Chapter Twenty-Three

Hurt

Grayson

Fucking unreal, unbelievable, and unfathomable the kind of shit I came from. And now...now I’m getting on my bike, turning my back on the girl who gave me bacon and a blowjob because she fucking wanted to. The girl who fucking thinks I’m something other than a wanderer, or a fucking motherfucking fuck up. The girl who—God, help me—I can’t fucking stand leaving, but for them, for all of them, I have to do just that.

I throw on my helmet and start the engine, look in the rearview, and see her fucking perfect face, perfect hair, perfect fucking for me, and I see those eyes, the ones that are hurt, but she’s standing strong, stronger now than when I first saw her. I know damn well she’s going to feel it when I leave, just like I’m feeling it now.

Hurt.

I hit the accelerator and my back tire slides left and comes down hard on my leg. I manage to get it back together and take off, spitting stones behind me.

I pass Mags and Brand on the scooter with poles. I pass the cabins and see Phoenix on one of the porches, hanging blankets. I pass Mags’ place where I shared coffee with Mandee. I pass Phoenix’s old place where I shared fucking everything with her.

Pulling out onto the road, I hang left and drive past the driveway leading down to Garrett and Juliana’s place. I fight not to pull in, drive down, pull my fucking father out of there, and take him to the lake, like he did me, when I finally confronted him about his shit.

I caught him, pants around his ankles, fucking that girl. It was after Gage told me what fucking was. I was so fucking young, so little, and he saw me.

After he finished, he sent her off, and then...then I got pushed around, hit, told that I was in trouble, and he told me that my mom would never stop crying if she ever found out.

I kept his secret.

When we came back to the States, I confronted him. I was smaller then, but big enough that I thought I could tell him, if he didn’t stop, I would tell her, and them.

He not only told me, but showed me how little he fucking cared about us. He pulled me out of bed that night and dragged me down to the lake. He told me that he was doing what he had to for all of us. That I needed to learn that was what men do. That if I ever became a man, I would understand. Then...then he told me I was easily replaceable, just like my mother. That she would die if she knew, and that would be my fault.

He held me under the water and brought me up. Each time, I begged him to stop. Each time, I begged he did it again. Ad each time, it was longer and longer.

He stopped when I was too exhausted to fight and too exhausted to beg.

“Just like that.” He let go of me. “Keep your mouth shut, and everyone will be fine.”

Add to his shit, Mom’s tears, Garrett’s outbursts, and the fact I saw Gage throw a fucking rock that killed a man, I was weak.

Was.

But I became stronger. It started with building that fucking treehouse, forcing myself to face my fear of the night caused by Garrett’s nightmares and Dad’s fucking near drowning me. I wasn’t sleeping anymore unless Mags was telling me stories. Still, that sleep was with one eye open. So, I walked the woods, to the fort, and I faced those fears. I stayed as long as I could before trekking home before anyone—well, anyone but Mags—knew I was gone.

Now...now I get what my brothers went through. I couldn’t be happier that they are happy, and I can’t bring myself to say a fucking word, because if I do, everything changes.

The fucker let it slip that Mom knew. Now I have no fucking clue what to do about that, either.

Gage is trying his best to forgive her. Not sure he ever will now. Mags is fucking clueless about it, or she would sure as shit have called her out on it. I don’t know if Juliana knows, but if she does, well, that’s going to fuck everything up between her and Garrett, and crush the trust being built between all of them, so Brand fucking loses.

I fucked him the only way I knew how.

Every time he comes around, my account gets drained. Last time was a year ago. He played the same old song, told me he needed cash, and that, if I couldn’t help him out, he would have to call in the bonds on Falcon Construction, and then we would all be financially devastated. He told me they would know I knew, and I would lose them, too.

I knew when he came back it wasn’t for Garrett’s wedding, so I drained that fucking account. Apparently, he found out and now he thinks he holds all the cards.

He told Gage I have a fucking gambling problem. Only gamble I have ever taken was on a hand I knew was a loser—him.

Now Gage is looking at me like I’m nothing but a problem, and I don’t like it one bit.

I need to get the fuck away, because I have no fucking clue what to do next.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!