Lifting her hand, I kissed where the scar was hidden. I said, “She called me my father's name. By then, I was never Jacob to her.”
Wet hurt flooded Marina's eyes. She did me the courtesy of not allowing her tears to spill. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “That must have been hard.”
The wind was cool on my neck. “If she'd been more clear headed, she might have begged me to stay. In a way, her dementia was a favor.” The memory was a pit in my stomach. Rejection made leaving easy, but it had helped form the shell around my heart.
A shell Marina had chiseled through.
Reminding myself that my past was not my present, I hugged her to me and kissed her forehead. Together, we huddled in the shade of the tree and listened to our heartbeats.
My phone buzzed, and without looking, I knew it was Kite. “Come on,” I said, leading her down the slope. “He'll be wondering where we both are. Let's not make him worry.”
Laughing clear as a silver bell, she tugged me down the sidewalk. “Hurry up, then! I want to see what my new room looks like! You've kept me out of your apartment for too long, were you building me a damn castle?” she teased.
We'd moved her belongings from storage, dividing them between Kite's place and my own. He couldn't hog her any longer; Marina's spare room in my place was finished, and I'd gone to great lengths to prepare it to her liking.
The surprise closet full of expensive clothes that I'd prepared would either impress her, or make her furious.
Both of those reactions would delight me.
Following that smiling girl down the street, my heart enveloped my entire chest. It could have burst, surely no man was meant to feel so happy. This was as close to perfection as I would ever reach.
Kite and I had struggled our whole lives. We'd fought, we'd killed, and we'd suffered.
Nothing had brought us true joy.
But now, that had changed. We had changed.
In this brutal world, with Marina at our side?
We'd finally found our paradise.
––––––––
THE END
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A Bonus Chapter: The Bad Boy Arrangement
- Chapter One -
Abell
––––––––
It had been three days and five hours since my last fuck.
Well, give or take.
I could be wrong about the hour.
Either way, I was antsy as hell. Going this long was like keeping water from a man in the desert. I could survive for awhile, sure, but I knew myself. If I didn't find a nice pair of thighs to dive between, I'd be useless to the world.
So, really, it was for everyone's benefit that I got laid.
I had a few places I liked to roam when I was scouting for a playmate. Bars are stereotypical, but they work—especially if you like the college crowd. Clubs? They were too sweaty for my mood.
Tonight, I'd gone a little out of the way.
The rock concert was in a park that had been strung up with Christmas lights along the fringes. An invigorating chill infused the night air. All in all, it wasn't a bad scene. I just wish the damn speakers weren't numbing my ears, I thought with a chuckle.
The band had been playing for twenty minutes, but I couldn't have repeated any of their lyrics. My attention was devoted to scouring the rolling bodies for my next prize.
There were women everywhere, thank fucking goodness. Skinny types in painted on jeans, curvy girls with their tits fluffing out... you name it, they were here in droves.
I was in Heaven.
As I swayed casually to the music, I moved with grace through the packed bodies. The smell of spilled beer weighed the air down, making me glad the venue was outdoors. The space—like every event in this city—was too small to hold everyone comfortably.
Speaking of too small. To my left, a woman in a skirt that barely hid her ass was grinding at the air. Her hair was slicked back in a high tail, makeup clinging around her eyes like she was auditioning for a movie about Egypt.
She was trying way too hard.
I love the Try-Hards.
They were the kind of girl you knew was looking to get some cock. Their actions said, 'I'm right here, just insert tab A into slot B and let's go!' My type, entirely; women who knew what they wanted never failed to get my pants tight.
Grinning, I slid beside her, my hips rocking with the tempo. Wordlessly, not even meeting my eyes, Skirt-Girl humped the air until she was inches away from me. Her hips twisted, towering heels barely moving off the grass—maybe so she wouldn't fall and break an ankle.
In seconds we were swaying together, her round ass touching my zipper. That long length of hair brushed her neck, tempting me to reach out and grab it.
I hoped she liked having her hair pulled, because once I got her alone, I planned to yank it back so I could nibble her pale neck. Just thinking about that has me getting stiff. Carefully, I adjusted myself in my pants, never missing a beat.