I LIE AWAKE, NERVOUSLY CHECKING my watch and waiting for 11:11 to approach. Vi is asleep, draped completely across my chest. Her bare breasts soft and supple against me. I watch her back rise and fall with each breath, relishing in the feeling of her faint heartbeat pattering against me. I play mindlessly with her drying blonde hair that’s fanned out on the grey sheets.
Exhausted from our exertions on her bed, in her shower, and then on her bed again, she’s been out for nearly an hour. But her last noises weren’t those of sexual ecstasy. They were the sexiest fucking noise I’ve heard come from her lips yet. Her giggles over some daft joke I made about rude rabbits.
She fell asleep so easily, so trustingly. Nothing troubles Vi, I think as I’ve been lying here, watching her and trying to figure out how I can slip out of bed. I hate that I have to leave her. I hate that my body forces me to feel the tick of 11:11 like the timer on a really hot oven. Like if I don’t get up and deal with whatever is cooking inside, everything will go up in flames.
Aside from our first night together after the gala, I’ve managed to avoid being around her at 11:11. But there is no way I could connect with her the way I did tonight and manage to leave her flat. I ache for her closeness. For her comforting warm breath against my body. A possessiveness seizes over me at leaving her alone in this big bed. She shouldn’t be alone. Ever. She is mine to care for.
But with the time creeping closer and closer, I feel myself growing tenser and tenser. I attempt to slide out from beneath her, but she stirs. I freeze, hoping she’ll fall back asleep, but my prayers aren’t answered.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she croaks with a raspy, sleepy voice and looks up at me, rubbing her eyes.
“I just need to pop outside for a second,” I reply honestly. I can’t tell her I’m going to the loo because I have it in my head that what has to be done needs to be done outside.
“Pop out where?”
“Just to your patio. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” I jostle her a bit more roughly than I mean to but manage to break free. I grab the towel I used earlier and wrap it around my waist, padding quietly out of her room and hoping to fuck she doesn’t follow.
Bruce is up and trots out to greet me. “Go back to bed. Lie down,” I command. He doesn’t listen. He follows me to the door that goes out to the deck. “Go on, old boy.” I shoo him back from the door and close it behind me as I step outside into the cool night air.
London city lights twinkle all around and it’s chilly from the rain, but I hardly notice as I’m too focused on the task at hand. I cinch my towel and glance down at my watch just as it ticks over to 11:11 like a gunshot. I grip the edge of the railing and hang my head low while closing my eyes tightly.
Please take away my past. Change my past. Alter my past. Go back and make the accident never happen. Go back and make it so Marisa didn’t die. Go back and make it so I never tried to kill myself. Go back and take me instead of her.
“What are you doing?” Vi’s voice asks from behind me as I stand up straight, finishing what I came out here to do.
I shake my head, avoiding her eyes, but I know it’s useless. “It’s nothing, Vi. Please, let’s go back to bed.”
“It’s not nothing.” She strolls out dressed in a baggy nightshirt. Her blonde hair is loose and wild around her face, but she still has never looked more beautiful. “Tell me.”
I look at her and instantly fear everything exploding all around us if I don’t explain this properly. “It’s just a stupid superstition I’ve had for ages.”
“For how long?” Her brow furrows.
I swallow hard. “About four years.”
Her eyes blink knowingly. “Since Marisa died.”
I shrug sheepishly. “Told you it’s stupid.”
“What do you do?”
I sigh heavily. “I’d rather not talk about it, Vi. You’re going to think I’m crazier than I’ve already proven.”
“I want to know.” She leans against the railing beside me. Bruce follows on her heels, shooting me a wounded puppy-dog look over blowing him off a bit ago.
With a deep breath in, I place my forearms on the railing, choosing to watch London’s reaction to my story over Vi’s. “I just have a little ritual I do every time 11:11 hits. It’s developed into a bit of OCD I guess. 11:11 has always been important to me. I’ve always seen it in my life, represented in one way or another. License plates, mileage on a speedometer, final amount on grocery receipts. It always randomly appears to me.” I cut my eyes to hers. “The floors of people’s flats.”
Her eyes turn into saucers and her jaw goes slack.
“Before my attempt, Daphney said it was lucky and that I should make a wish whenever I see it. So that’s what I do because it’s better than the eerie sensation I get every time it appears to me. It has become even more important after Marisa’s death. Some people pray before bed. I do this.”
An unnerving look fleets across Vi’s face, but she shakes whatever thought she was having away. “So, what do you wish for?”
“Vi, really—”
“Tell me,” she insists.
I clench my jaw in frustration. Being open with Vi has never felt like an obligation until this very moment, but I don’t have it in me to tell her no. “First, I wish the accident never would have happened. Then I wish she never would have died. And since rehab, I began wishing I wouldn’t have slit my wrists. And…” I look down, suddenly shrouded in shame.
“And?”
“I wish I would have died instead of Marisa.” My voice is hard and cold. Cutting. It’s best she knows the darkness that still lives in me.
Her face falls. “Is that really an option you wish for?”
I nod.
“Still?” Her blue eyes are swimming with anxiety.
I nod again.
She swallows hard. “I see.” She turns around, mumbles something at Bruce, and walks back into her flat. Her posture hunched.
My heart fills with despair.
“Vi,” I plead, following her inside. When I touch her shoulder, she turns and flashes her wide, challenging eyes at me.
“What?” she snaps, grabbing her hair and balling it around her fist.
“You have to understand that I battle years’ worth of demons. Demons I still fight inside my mind. I can’t just blink all of that away.”
“Why don’t you wish it away?” she quips, her tone snotty as she chucks her hair behind her back.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I growl angrily, pacing the room. “I stepped outside to do this. I get that it’s strange and stupid, but it’s something I have to do. I’m not sure where you get off acting all self-righteous over it.”
“Hayden!” she exclaims, balling her fists beside her. “You tell me you’re not weak, but this sounds scary. And I just found out the guy I’m falling for wishes his life away. How is that supposed to make me feel?”
Her words hit me like a punch to my gut. Weakness is representative of all that I want to leave behind. Picturing Leslie’s face the moment she found me after carving into my wrists was the lowest I ever felt. To hurt someone like that…To put her through it all. I hated it. Is making these wishes at 11:11 considered weak?
“These wishes make me feel safe,” I croak, not knowing how else to explain myself.
“Safe, how?” she asks, her tone nearly a shrill.
I inhale slowly through my nose and tell her yet another thing I’ve never revealed to another person. “A few years ago, I was pissed out of my mind on both booze and pills. I was driving, like a fucking moron, and I looked down at my speedometer. The miles on my car switched over to 1111 just as the clock struck 11:11. It shook me to my core. The next thing I knew, I wrapped my car around a tree and spent several weeks in the hospital.”
“Hayden—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“That was the first time people started throwing the word suicide around with my name. That was when Mum started the charity. That’s when I became the fucking family charity case.” I suck in my cheeks and bite down, ignoring Vi’s reaction all together. “This is the one thing that brings me comfort with my recovery, Vi. So I do it.”
A painfully quiet and charged moment passes between us. Her blue eyes look like they are searching mine for something. Something I don’t have inside of me to give away.
As if defeated, her soft voice utters, “Okay.”
I blink at her, my eyes squinting in confusion. “Okay?” I ask for confirmation.
She nods woodenly. “Okay.” A sombre, yet helpless look crosses over her face, and whatever it was she thought just then forces me to eliminate all space between us. As I take her in my arms, she looks up at me with watery eyes. “I’m sorry, Hayden. This is hard for me, too. This is your journey and I can’t walk it for you, but I hope you know that you don’t always have to fight alone.”
My heart soars and sinks with that one profound statement she just spoke. The look in her eyes as she stares back at me is a look of surrender. As if she’s got no other choice but to give herself to me completely. As if her level of interest in whatever it is we have between us trumps all bad habits and it terrifies the shit out of her.
Her arms wrap around my waist and I clasp them firmly behind my back. The trembling in her body hurts my heart. “Please, Bunny,” I murmur into her hair. “Trust me to figure this one out. I promise, I just need time.” I kiss the top of her head and wish the vow I’m making to her be true with every fibre of my being.
The next morning, I walk back home, or to Theo’s flat I should say. As soon as I swing open the door, I’m greeted by a beaming Leslie.
“Welcome home!” she sings from her place at the dining room table with Jaci. They have several binders spread out all around them.
“I’ll be in touch,” Jaci says with a huff of annoyance, like my mere presence alone could spoil all their work. She stands and bustles past me, pausing to give me a nasty once-over. “Has he been fitted for a suit?”
Leslie nods. “Yep! We’ll get him cleaned up, don’t you worry.”
A painful smile splits across my face as I scratch my whiskered chin. Jaci makes her hasty exit. I lift my brows, giving Leslie an “are you serious” look. She shrugs her shoulders good naturedly while eyeing my clothes from last night.
“Where’s my favourite girl?” I ask, attempting to delay the conversation that I’ve felt coming the last couple of weeks.
“Sleeping upstairs with Theo.”
“Another rough night?” I guess, striding over to the kettle and pouring myself a cup of tea.
“You guessed it. But you wouldn’t know because you’ve been MIA the last two weeks.”
I flinch, touching my right cuff self-consciously. I pour some milk in my tea and walk over to join Leslie at the table. “Sorry about that.”
“No need to be sorry, Hayden. You’re a single, twenty-six-year-old man. And, hey, I have Jaci in my corner. That broad may be a crusty, British, upper-lip, tight-ass, but she’s my wish come true.” Leslie’s eyes narrow from behind her mug. “But no one cares about that. Let’s hear it, Hay Day. Did you get way laid?”
Frowning, I shoot a warning glare at her. “So not funny, Leslie.”
“What? I thought it was funny. I rhymed!” Her sea green eyes are brighter and happier than I’ve seen them in months. Maybe Jaci no K is a miracle worker after all. I smile to myself at how Vi can make even the happiest of people happier.
“This is awkward enough without you making it more awkward with lame sexual jokes.” I slice one hand through my hair and prop my head on it, my thoughts scattering all around me. It’s strange that I haven’t been confiding in Leslie about all matters concerning Vi. Since my attempt, there’s an unspoken openness between us that makes Leslie the one I go to the most when I’m feeling troubled. I talk to Theo some, but there’s an ease with Leslie. She was in the trenches with me. She’s my sister in combat. She saved my fucking life.
“What’s awkward about it?” Leslie asks. “I love Vilma. I think she’s perfect for you.” Leslie’s tone is bright and excited, obviously feeling everything I’m trying to avoid feeling.
I sigh heavily. “Do you really think this is a great idea? I mean, how could you? She’s a mate of yours and I’m…well, fucking crazy.”
“Hayden!” she snaps. “You’re not crazy and I will smack you if you call yourself that again.”
I roll my eyes. “I was in a loony bin for thirty days, Leslie. I’m a mess and Vi is…Vi.”
“You were in rehab, Hayden. Hell, Ke$ha went to rehab. It’s practically a trendy hot spot these days.” I eye her harshly and her light tone falters a bit. “Hayden, look. I know you. If I tell you you’re worth it, you’re worth it!”
“This is different, Leslie. Vi’s special. She deserves more.” I bite out the last word and swallow hard thinking about the impending doom I feel every time I consider that thought I know to be true.
“Deserves more than a Clarke brother? No such thing! You guys have super powers.”
I shake my head, putting a pin in this conversation for now. “I’m being stupid,” I scoff and offer her a cocky smirk that symbolises the complete opposite of what I feel on the inside.
“Hey!” Her eyes flash with excitement. “Why don’t you bring Vi over to Frank’s tomorrow night? It’s family flick night. Could be fun!”
My face recoils. “I don’t know, Leslie. I think it might be a little soon. Won’t Rey and Liam be there?” While it wasn’t horrid being around them a couple of weeks ago, avoiding them is a lot better for my own sanity.
“No, they haven’t come since the pub’s been up and running. And what do you mean, too soon? You guys have been hanging out together for a couple of weeks. It’s not like you’re asking her to marry you. Vi’s my friend! It’s just a casual evening with some friends.”
I nod silently, mulling it over for a moment. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
Leslie cheers at her win. She immediately starts texting Frank while I attempt to snuff out the painful ache of insecurity hurtling through me. Feeling everything I’ve allowed myself to feel for Vi isn’t just scary for me. It’s dangerous.
The next night, Vi meets us at Theo and Leslie’s flat so we can all ride over to Frank’s together. I feel a bit like a couple of pubescent teenagers stuffed into the backseat of Mum and Dad’s car on our way to a school dance, aside from Baby Marisa nestled snuggly between us in her infant seat.
“Everybody all buckled up?” Leslie crows from the passenger side as Theo slides in behind the wheel.
“You’re seriously wearing that?” I ask Leslie, my tone flat and clearly unimpressed.
“I wear it every time.”
Vi giggles. “You should have gotten me one, Leslie. I would have joined you.” My eyes swerve to her, and I can’t tell if she’s joking.
“I’ll place an order for future flick nights, Vilma!” Leslie fist bumps Vi moronically, then cries out, “Boom. Converted another!”
“Still won’t get me,” Theo grumbles as he buckles up.
“Hey, I got Frank, I got Finley, I got Julie. Hell, I even got Brody!” She turns and nods her head eagerly, clearly impressed by herself. “It’s only a matter of time before you Clarke brothers submit to my redheaded superpower wiles!”
Leslie is referring to her cheetah-print, onesie, footie pyjamas. She’s actually wearing them in the car with trainers on over them, clearly not the least bit embarrassed to be riding through the streets of London in the getup. Apparently they all wear onesies on family flick night. It’s part of their thing. I didn’t tell Vi about it because I was certain she wouldn’t want one. Clearly I was mistaken.
“Brody is whipped,” Theo grumbles. “You got enough leg room back there, Hayden?” My brother’s cocky chuckle gets right up my nose, but I let it pass. “How about you, Vi?”
“I’m good!” she chirps in response and I smirk at her happy demeanour.
When I pitched the idea of family flick night to her last night on the phone, she seemed shocked that I’d want to hang out with friends so soon. Then I told her I was prepared to meet her brothers any time, which I think really floored her. She keeps going on about how scary they are, but frankly, they are the least of my concerns.
Theo pulls out of the carport and drives us through the dark streets of London like one big happy family. I peek down at Marisa, who has hold of my finger and is attempting to yank it into her mouth repeatedly. Her eyes are wide and curious as she takes in the flashing lights.
I glance up to find Vi watching me. She smirks. I smirk back. She licks her lips. I lick mine. As if we are being drawn together by some outside force, our heads lean into each other and our mouths connect in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves me wanting more, but also completely satisfies everything inside of me like I’ve never had better.
Marisa’s sudden cry interrupts our tender moment. I pull back from Vi, laughing. “Don’t be jealous, Marisa. You’re still my number one girl.”
“Number one is it?” Vi tsks in mock offence, her grin still permanently in place.
“She’s my number one girl,” Theo objects from the front seat. Leslie’s hand reaches over and strokes his. “Tied for number one,” he adds curtly and cuts a heated squint at her that forces me to look away.
We arrive at Frank’s and waltz through the large purple door framed in climbing ivy. I’ve never been to Frank’s, but it somehow suits him. It’s a large, imposing home, but when you walk in, there’s an energy unlike any other.
Frank bounds out of the living room on our left. “The bloody Clarkes are here! Hide the family jewels!”
Leslie’s eyes turn into saucers. “I believe it was my jewels that you always stole, Frank and Beans. Along with my Bedazzler.”
“Christ, gingers sure can hold a grudge.” He glares meanly at her, then looks at mine and Vi’s hands clasped together. He ropes his arm with Vi’s and pulls her away from me, leading her toward the dining room. His voice trails back into the foyer as he says, “Why, Vi. Hopped from Ethan to Hayden faster than you can say Frank’s your uncle! I have to say, I’m impressed, dear girl.”
My face falls and I move forward quickly, but Theo stops me in my tracks with a hard hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be a fool, Hayden. It was a joke.” He gives me an annoying matey pat on the shoulder. “You’re better than that.”
Am I? I swallow hard, my clenched jaw rocking side-to-side in frustration. Just thinking about Ethan and Vi makes my blood boil. But fuck, Theo’s right. I know what Frank’s like, so why is it bothering me so much?
Finley and Brody join us in the living room, both wearing their own footie pyjamas. They sit cosily next to each other on the couch as Brody holds Marisa somewhat awkwardly, and Finley looks so happy she might burst into tears. They’ve been married for about a year now, and Leslie has mentioned to me that children won’t be a part of their future. But watching them right now, I’m not sure they know it.
“I think we should do it now,” Finley says, looking up at Frank sneakily as he readies some snacks on the coffee table.
Frank’s eyes alight knowingly. “All right. Everyone remain calm. This is not a drill. We have a bit of a surprise for Marisa, so if you’ll all follow me.”
Finley passes Marisa back to Leslie, and I find myself so intrigued that I follow the group up the large staircase to the second floor. Frank stops in front of a closed bedroom door and turns back to us while dramatically coiffing his puffy red hair.
“This was my idea,” Frank starts.
“Bullshit! It was my idea!” Finley interjects, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The two of them are wearing footie pyjamas, looking like the biggest fools as they bicker over whose idea whatever it is we’re about to see was.
“Oi, all right, Fin-Bin. It was your idea, but you need to thank fuck I was around for the design process or you would have had it decked out in K-State University drivel.”
“Frank!” Finley cuts.
“Why don’t you guys just open the door,” Brody asks calmly.
Seriously, Brody is a big, brawny, man-type of bloke and seeing him in his onesie is disturbing. Finley must have some serious pull over him to get him to wear one of those.
Finley smirks and opens the door. Following her lead, we all walk in to one of the most beautiful nurseries I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many. Honestly, I feel a bit poorly because I’m in the bedroom that would normally be Marisa’s perfect little nursery at Theo and Leslie’s flat if it wasn’t for me. But Leslie says she wants to keep Marisa close for a while anyway, so having her crib upstairs next to them works best for everyone.
I take note of the expensive-looking crib covered in a funky, loud, floral-print of fuchsias, pinks, reds, and oranges. Next to it is a safari baby bouncer, a fire-engine-red changing table, nappies, wipes, the works. The walls are a soft cyan colour with white crown moulding everywhere, allowing the decorations to make the statement. A modern, grey, upholstered rocker is nestled perfectly in the corner. It’s a trendy baby’s dream come true nursery. A day bed even rests along the window making it not just a nursery, but a place for mum and dad to stay when they visit as well.
Leslie hands Marisa off to Theo and does a complete survey of the room, remaining completely silent. I think we’re all waiting to hear her reaction as she runs her hands along the crib. Finally, she covers her mouth as she turns to look at Theo. Her eyes are drenched with tears and, without pause, Theo rushes over to her and hugs her with his free arm—an unknowing Baby Marisa smashed happily between them.
I look away and rub my face annoyingly as my own damn eyes start to prick. Vi catches sight of me and I frown, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
I nod. “Yeah. That’s just…I know that means a lot to Leslie. Her family isn’t the best.” I don’t offer any more details on the matter because it’s not my story to tell.
“You’re really close to her, aren’t you?” Vi’s eyes squint curiously as if she’s trying to piece together why I’m reacting so strongly.
Feeling strangely, like I need to minimise what Leslie means to me, I huff, “It’s nothing. Let’s go downstairs.” I take Vi’s hand in mine and lead her toward the flight of stairs. I freeze in my tracks when I see Reyna standing below.
“Hey,” she says, looking up at me in surprise and pausing her climb up the steps. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” Her eyes cut down to my hand in Vi’s and, for some reason, I quickly let her go.
I swallow awkwardly. “Leslie invited me.”
Reyna looks at Vi, her eyes narrowing. “Vilma, right?”
“Yeah. It’s Vi, I told you before. Hi, Reyna. Nice to see you again.” Vi tucks her long blonde strands behind her ears, her eyes squinting with speculation.
Reyna’s grey eyes chill, which puzzles me.
Suddenly, we’re all distracted by a huge commotion behind us.
“FUCKING CUNT-FACED SPUNK BUBBLE!” a woman’s voice screams from the bedroom down the hall from the new nursery.
Frank, Leslie, Theo, Finley, and Brody dash out into the hallway just as a box of men’s clothing is launched out of the open bedroom door. Next comes a mobile. It strikes the hallway wall and crumbles to several pieces with a cringe-worthy crack.
A besotted Julie storms out of the room dressed in a lime green onesie. Her almond-shaped eyes are wide, her black hair is tangled, and her stance is braced with a menacing gait that makes me fight the urge to cover my balls.
“Men are fucking PIGS! The lot of them!” she screams.
My eyes flash to Baby Marisa, who begins fussing in Theo’s arms.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. But they are. Men are fucking spunk bubble twats. I will tell all of you this right now. You’re all in love and you all think love can conquer the universe. It fucking doesn’t. The only men you can trust are the arseholes who have no feelings. They just have ARSEHOLES!”
She turns and storms into the bathroom at the end of the hall, slamming the door loudly in her wake.
“Well, there goes our tender family moment,” Frank huffs as he sashays down the hall to console whatever is eating at Julie.
Finley turns and sees Reyna and rushes to welcome her surprise visit. I overhear Rey tell Finley that Liam is running the pub tonight and that she needed a night of relaxation. Leslie joins in the greeting but watches me nervously. I try to give her a look that tells her I’m okay because I know she tries to hide her friendship with Rey from me. But I’m not an idiot. Theo and Liam are best mates. I know Leslie has naturally grown closer to Reyna as a result. It’s not just that, though. Having Rey around with Vi here makes me uneasy. Last time I properly spoke to Rey, I told her that lust and recovery don’t mix. Now I’m standing here feeling like a hypocritical prat. Although, a quiet, annoying voice in my head knows it’s more than just lust with Vi. But admitting that thought is more terrifying than tempting my recovery.
We make our way to the living room and begin watching a film. It’s charged and awkward and I feel horrid because I’m not touching Vi like I normally do. My body yearns to throw a claiming arm around her, but Rey’s presence and the thoughts rattling off in my head make me feel disjointed.
Eventually, I remove myself to pop out to the kitchen for a drink. Maybe if I can give myself a silent pep talk, I can stop acting like such a wanker. Just as I close the fridge door, Rey’s face appears from behind it.
“So, you and Vi?” she asks, leaning her back against the fridge and crossing her inked arms over her chest.
I crack the top on the can of soda in my hand. My jaw clenches in annoyance because this feels wrong on so many levels. I shrug my shoulders, dismissively opting to remain silent.
She frowns. “What? You’re not going to tell me anything?” Her tone is defensive.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” I turn and lean back on the counter to face her, taking a cool drink.
“I just think it’s odd that you told me only a couple of weeks ago that you’re putting yourself first and focusing all your efforts on you. Then I see you holding hands and cosying up to some blonde you barely know.” She gestures flippantly toward the living room where I left Vi with everyone else.
My temper flares. “She’s not just some fucking blonde, Rey. She’s got a damn name and you bloody well know it. Stop acting as if she’s some random bird I picked up at a pub. And you’re one to talk!”
“What do you mean?”
“You were a fucking mess, too, and you got engaged!” I accuse, not because I’m jealous, but because I’m defensive. “What did your therapist say about that?”
She recoils. “Liam and I had history.”
“Don’t remind me.” I cringe thinking about the fact that Liam and my sister nearly got engaged when they were together at Oxford. It makes me ill to think about Rey with him, truthfully. I’m all for unconventional love stories, but fuck me. Don’t act all self-righteous when you’re the pot calling the kettle black. “Regardless, none of it is your concern.”
“Oh, excuse me for being a friend!” she snaps.
“You and I aren’t friends anymore, Rey.” I set my can down and cross my arms, mirroring her subliminal shield of armour.
“Not by my choice!” she shouts. “I miss you, Hayden!”
“Oh, please,” I laugh with shock. “You wouldn’t even be talking to me if Liam was here and you know it. If he were here, he’d be sulking in the corner, watching us like a hawk.”
“Knock it off. Liam isn’t like that. He understands what you and I are.”
“You and I were a fucking mess, Rey. Were. Don’t build us up to be more than we were.”
Her eyes narrow with barely contained fury. “We were best friends, Hayden,” she says in slow, warning tones.
“You made me weak, Rey!” I roar, feeling like, for the first time, I’ve finally pegged exactly what Reyna Miracle was to me all those years. “You made me fragile. And you bring me right back to the sod all mess I was all those years ago, and I don’t fucking want it.” Her jaw drops in shock, only infuriating me more. “We were never best friends. You said it yourself on that park bench. We know nothing about each other, so you can’t possibly throw that card at me now.”
Her grey eyes well with tears. I flinch. “Fuck, Rey. I’m sorry. I’m not blaming you for everything, especially not for what I did to myself. It was my own fault. I just need you to understand that you cannot have a say in my life anymore. And you cannot use our past against me.”
She swipes hastily at her eyes, and I have to fight every urge in my body that wants to go to her and comfort her. Rub that spot on her neck that I know soothes her almost instantly. It’s a reflex with Rey. Comforting her. She craves my comfort like a crutch, and I let her use me that way for so many years. Maybe we both have addictions to fight?
She sets her jaw angrily and turns, storming out of the kitchen. When I watch her leave, I find Vi and Leslie standing in the entryway staring at the scene that just transpired. Both their jaws are dropped.
Fuck.
Anger pulses through me from the fact that Rey can go off on me and then act all wounded when I get real with her. I stride over and motion for Leslie to follow me. I can’t even bring myself to look at Vi right now.
“Hayden, what the fuck?” Leslie says, following me out the front door and into the gated patio area on the face of the house. It’s completely shrouded in ivy, similar to how my heart is shrouded in shame.
“Fuck, Leslie. I don’t know what to bloody do!” I exclaim with a forced whisper so no one can hear me. “My mind is spinning and I’m a fucking mess. A lot of what Rey said was true. I was going to focus on myself, yet here I am, acting like a normal fucking bloke with a new girlfriend!”
“You are a normal bloke, Hayden!” Leslie cries. “Don’t let Rey’s insecurities tell you otherwise. She has her own demons to fight.”
“I swore I’d never let anyone become number one over me again. I gave Rey so much power over my moods and my heart. Now I’m doing the same damn thing with Vi!” I shove my hands forcibly through my hair. All of this is too much too soon. How did I let Vi get so close so fast?
“Stop. Right now. Stop everything.” Leslie sticks out her hands like she’s trying to calm a wild beast. “You’re letting Rey get in your head. You don’t need her there. She’s a trigger for you. Don’t let her make you crumble. Don’t give her that power.”
I nod, seriously absorbing everything Leslie is saying but feeling a pit of despair in the bottom of my stomach like I could be screwing everything up for myself again.
“Hayden. You deserve to be happy,” Leslie adds. “It’s been a year.”
“Right!” I whisper scream, my voice bordering on a manly shriek. “It’s been a year. You’ve seen me through it. I’m a completely different person than I was fresh out of rehab. Aren’t I?” I grip my leather cuffs and ache for the pressure thundering through every part of my body to dampen. I want this to be true. I need it to be.
“You are different, Hayden. Calm down,” she says soothingly.
“Fuck. I just wanted a normal night out.” I crouch over a chair and drop my head down to my chest. “I’m so tired of feeling broken.”
“You’re not broken. You’re changing. Change is hard. But from the looks of it, you’re making all the right changes! That’s what matters.”
I nod silently to myself. I am doing this properly. I can’t let Rey rattle my confidence. Vi and I are taking things slow. We’re not rushing into anything. We’re not saying “I love you.” We’re just together. Meeting friends. That sort of thing. Nothing major…
…even though there’s a heaviness in my heart that’s screaming at me to stop ignoring it.
A sensation that I’ve never felt before…Even with Rey.
The car ride back to Theo and Leslie’s is quiet and charged with tension and unspoken words. Vi has hardly looked at me or touched me since Rey’s hasty departure. I know she’s probably angry about how I treated her all evening, but surely she can see why I acted as I did. She’s got to understand that all of this is still difficult for me.
She offers polite goodbyes and I begin walking her back to her flat.
“You don’t have to walk me home, Hayden,” she croaks under the dark streetlight.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snap with exasperation as we walk at a quickening pace down the sidewalk.
“I’m not being ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable of walking my own arse back to my own flat. I don’t need you.”
My hand wraps around her elbow, bringing her to a halt so swiftly that she stumbles into my chest. “What are you doing?”
She refuses to look up at me even though we’re pressed tightly together. “I’m just reading the writing on the wall.”
“Stop,” I demand and force her chin up so she looks at me. The hurt, and confusion, and pain swimming in her glossy eyes crushes me. My anger melts to heartache. “Vi, stop,” I beg.
She shakes her head. “No. You hurt me tonight. I was on cloud nine with you until Rey showed up. You wouldn’t even hold my hand! Are you still in love with her?”
“No, don’t be daft,” I scoff, looking away to hide my irritation but refusing to let Vi go.
“Well, who am I to be jealous of then? Am I jealous of Rey, or am I jealous of Leslie? I can’t keep up! I’m sure Julie would be in line for a quick shag if the mood struck you!”
I swirl her around and press her up against the nearest flat surface, both my hands braced on the stone wall on either side of her head, caging her in so she remains in front of me. “This is complete shit and you know it, Vi. You know me. You know me better than anyone!”
“I thought I did, but that was before you chose to run off and confide in Leslie instead of me! That shit hurt, Hayden. How on earth do you think that makes me feel? Are you in love with your brother’s fiancée?” she snaps meanly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I growl, clenching my fists in anger.
“Then why can’t you talk to me?” Her voice rises to a pitch that jolts me.
“I can’t tell you these things,” I grind out through clenched teeth, slamming my eyes shut in utter fear.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to scare you away!” I bark and finally look at her. Her jaw actually closes and her defiance morphs into a simpler, moody scowl. “Everything is different with you, Vi. The stakes are higher.”
Her jaw shifts as she absorbs my outburst, but I can tell it’s not enough. Her eyes narrow in willful determination. “I need to understand your relationship with Leslie more, Hayden. It hurts me to see you confide in her over me!” she exclaims.
“She stopped the blood!” I roar, billowing over top of my last shred of self-control. “The blood wasn’t just coming from my wrists, Vi. It was coming from my heart and my soul. I hurt everywhere, but Leslie was the one to put pressure on the wound and make it stop. She made it all stop.” Shocked at what I’ve just revealed, my hand grips Vi’s hip as a painful emotion bubbles up from somewhere deep and dark inside of me. “Leslie held my head in her lap and my life in her hands. That is something a person can never forget.”
Tears slide down Vi’s face, and my own screws up in pain over what I keep doing to her. God, I keep making her cry over and fucking over again. But I need her to understand. I need her to keep looking at me. I take my hands and cup her cheeks, wiping away the tears as if the act alone can wipe away her pain.
“I will always have a certain attachment to Leslie. She helped me understand reality. She saw into my soul that night so long ago. A place that I didn’t think anyone else could see…until you.” I look down to try and stifle the fear ripping through my body.
Vi inhales a shaky breath and her head nods in my hands, forcing me to look up in shock at her approval. “I’m sorry, Hayden,” she croaks, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t understand something like that, but I’ll try. That’s all I can do. I just wish…I wish I could have been there for you.”
I exhale with relief and lift her chin with a gentle nudge of my knuckle. “You have no idea how much I wish the same thing. I’m the one who should be sorry. As much as I’ve shared with you, I struggle to share things that I still don’t fully understand myself.”
She nods woodenly.
“The thing is,” I start, dropping a needful kiss on her forehead before pressing my own against hers “I thought I already knew the reason why I was grateful that I hadn’t erased my life forever that night until you. You, Vi…You make me want to fight even harder to be the man I want to be.”
Her taut, emotional expression softens into a look of lust and desire. She grabs my neck and pulls me down to her lips. The relief. The absolute, ecstasy-encompassing relief I feel with her mouth on mine and the understanding that one simple act proves to my heart right now is life-changing.
“Take me home,” she whimpers against my lips, sliding her hands down to grip my biceps in her small grasp. “Take me home and show me how strong you are.”
I release a husky laugh against her lips. It’s a laugh that makes everything inside of me lunge for her. Even with all this drama—all this fucked-up confusion—she still doesn’t see me as broken. She’s just a woman who wants me to fuck her senseless.
We’re still us…Whatever we are.
“Are you asking what I think you’re asking, Bunny?” I grin wickedly down at her, thinking about everything I could do to her.
She giggles. God, she fucking giggles.
“Show me rude rabbit, pretty please.” Her eyebrows waggle at me suggestively.
I’m instantly hard.
The way this woman can look at me—a frail, weak, broken, and emotional fucking mess of a man—and still want me to take her home and have my way with her…Christ, if she’s not it for me, no one is.
I stand behind Vi as she perches on the edge of her large, baroque-style bed. Her blonde hair cascades down her fresh, alabaster skin that is glowing in the dim evening light that pours in from the windows of her flat. Her posture is straight and perfect. Poised and ready for what I’m about to do to her. Vi takes direction really well, I think, smirking to myself as I crawl up behind her on the bed. She’s sitting completely naked except for her cobalt blue thong that I told her to leave on. I kneel behind her. My front to her back. I nudge my erection into her back, shrouded only in a pair of black boxer briefs. She shudders out a quick, shaky breath, and it makes me smile. I reach around and stroke my fingertips from her breasts, up the front of her neck, and finally to her chin. I pull her mouth up to meet mine, her head thrown back as I tower over her.
She gasps as I drop a soft kiss on her lips. The anticipation is killing her already. Fuck. This is going to be fun.
“See these lips?” I whisper huskily against her mouth, dragging my thumb across them and watching hungrily as they plop back into place. “They’re mine. Every centimetre down to the little divot right here should only crave my lips. My taste. And my power. This lower lip is for my teeth to sink into whenever I feel like it. Understand?”
I nip at her bottom lip and she lets out a husky laugh, our breaths intermingling in a heady sexy exhale of happiness. “Yes,” she submissively agrees.
I kiss her firmly, cementing my point before dragging the white scarf I found in her closet across her lap. I move it up her body and over her face, draping it across her eyes as her face remains angled toward the chandelier above us.
“I’m going to lay you back, Bunny. But it’s your job to hold this scarf across your eyes. We’re not tying it. This is your one job. Think you can manage?”
She lets out a throaty giggle. “I’ll do my best, sir.”
I shake my head, grinning at her sass and mumble about her being a naughty bunny. I slide off the bed and push her back onto the mattress so her feet still remain on the floor. She holds the white scarf to her eyes by gripping each side with her fists. She squirms nervously.
I stand back and admire the scene before me. Perfect, pert breasts with the pinkest nipples I’ve ever seen. Creamy, smooth skin that dips in all the right places, and sexy sculpted legs that I can’t wait to have wrapped around my face in two seconds.
The bed dips as I lean over her and take a nipple in my mouth. Her hand releases the scarf and cups the back of my head. “No, no, Bunny. Hold that scarf.”
She groans out in frustration, and I smile as her legs wrap around my upper body. I nip my teeth from her shoulder to her nipple. She’s greedily thrusting herself up toward me, her arse rising off the bed, giving me just enough room to…
Smack.
Her lips part with a mighty groan as my palm connects with her arse, proving she was made for a rude rabbit like me. Growing impatient myself, I continue my nibble down her body until I reach her centre. She continues to squirm and writhe on the bed as I blow cool air all around her. I take my hand and push aside the strip of blue fabric that covers her. I exhale my hot breath right on her slickened nub. She moans out my name loudly. A deep throaty sound. I snap the thin strips of her thong on her hips before sliding them down her legs and tossing them on the floor.
I drop down onto my knees and grab her by her hips, yanking her to the edge of the bed so her thighs rest on my shoulders and her arse is suspended in the air for my greedy hands to fondle. Fuck, her arse, I think with a throaty growl. It’s the most magnificent arse I’ve ever seen. I inhale deeply before pressing my mouth happily to her vertical lips.
A frenzy takes over as I taste her. Never in my life has a woman’s scent called to me like such a siren before. Her scent was fucking made for me. Like a starving man, I devour her with all the passion I feel for this sexy, beautiful, understanding, and surprising woman.
Any time her hands stray from the blindfold, I give her pert bottom a punishing slap. I’m beginning to think she likes it based on the frequency of her disobedience. In a shorter amount of time than I anticipated, her body hardens like a bullet as she hits her climax at an alarming velocity. She screams out my name and, just as quickly, her legs sag with relief.
After a moment, she props herself up on her elbows, and I chuckle proudly as she tosses the scarf at my face. My cock strains against my briefs as I take in her messy blonde hair that makes her look properly fucked. The pink of her cheeks glows rosy and healthy. Her lazy smile, the perfect expression a man wants to see after he’s just properly serviced his most prized possession.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” I ask, my smirk turning into a lustful gaze as I fantasise about how good it’s going to feel when I push myself inside of her.
She smiles broadly. “If fighting with you gets me that, remind me to do it more often.”
“We’re just getting started.” I tenderly kiss the inside of her thigh and surprise her with a playful nip.
Her giggles set the mood for our rousing round two in her shower that ended happily for both of us this time. It was the kind of fuck that would put even the sexiest pornos to shame. But it was better because it was Vi. There are no rules with her. Sexy and silly moments ebb and flow seamlessly, never once pulling us from the glorious moment.
Now I lay, once again, entangled in crushed velvet with a stunning Vi draped across my chest. I alternate twining the blonde strands of her hair between my fingers and trailing my fingertips up her bare spine while she plays with the cuff on my wrist—a custom I’ve noticed she enjoys doing. It took a great deal of effort on my part to allow her to do so at first, but now I can rest into it.
“How do you see me so differently, Vi?” I ask, quietly staring up at the chandelier above her bed. At times, I still can’t wrap my brain around how normal she makes me feel. How normal she looks at me despite my past.
“What do you mean?” Her voice is soft and sleepy as she continues picking at the seam of my cuff without looking up at me.
I squint my eyes and elaborate. “I look in the mirror and I see a broken, suicidal screw-up with a laundry list of vices all working against him,” I quietly admit. “What do you see?”
Her hand stills on my cuff and she turns to look up at me, propping her arms and head on my chest. Her blue eyes lock on mine for a long, painfully quiet moment. I stroke my fingers down her cheek as I wait on bated breath for her answer.
Finally, she tilts her head and replies with a sigh, “I just see My Hayden.”