Page 11 of Craving Consequences
Maybe that’s why it doesn’t twist me up in knots watching him with her the way I had been when Bron would touch her. I’m not fueled by an all-consuming rage to rip off his arms and beat him with them because they fit the same way she fits with me.
Or maybe I’m just full of shit. A coward terrified she’d never pick just one and scared shitless that she might not pick me.
Whatever the reason, I accept it willingly and without reservation.
I direct my thoughts away from the creature destroying me without even trying and think back on the kid at the bar. The mouthy piece of shit putting his hands onmyEverly.
I’m not proud of losing my cool.
Years of aggressive training to handle all manner of situations went out the window the second I watched the asshole slide his hand up Everly’s skirt. All rational thought, all my calm went up in smoke watching Everly fight him off. Watching her wedge her forearms against his chest and push only to have him pin her harder.
I would have killed him. I know that fact to my soul. If Lachlan hadn’t stopped me, if he hadn’t reminded me through the haze of crimson that Everly needed me, I would have broken every tooth in his skull before curb-stomping him into the next world. Kid or not.
Don’t touch what’s mine.
Even if she has a boyfriend. A waste of space. An entitled brat with a God complex and a narcissist to the core.
Fucking hate the little fuck.
From the very beginning. I know you’re not supposed to hate kids, but after two tours and a lifetime commitment to my country, I have seen the evil in men’s eyes. The lurking monsters waiting to snatch up the innocent and devour them. I have seen that cruel, sadistic demon in Bron’s vacant gaze. In the hollow void where his soul should be. The absence of warmth.
Yet, Everly chose him. She settled for the punishment handed to her by life after her parents died and I never understood it. She could have anyone. Hell, I’ve seen nearly every man and boy in Jefferson give her a second peek when she walks by. Never mind that she has the face of an angel and a body made for sin, but it’s deeper than that. She’s genuine. She truly cares about people.
Yet somehow, by some miracle of the devil, Bron got her. Hurt her because that’s all he’s good for. Maybe I’m just a bitter, jealous man in love with air I can never consume, but I would worship the ground she walks on. I would dedicate the rest of my life to her happiness. I would kill for her without question or reasoning. There is not a crime I wouldn’t commit if she asked.
Did that make me a sad, pathetic loss? Maybe. But I would fall to my knees and thank God every day for every breath she takes.
“Where are we going?” I ask, needing some kind of distraction from the spiral of my own thoughts.
“My place.” The statement is sharp. Clipped.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
The wheel squeaks under his fingers. “We’re not fucking her, Van. Jesus, she’s Everly. We can’t fuck Everly.”
I don’t understand his logic because hell yes we can absolutely fuck Everly. We can fuck her until she’s a sobbing mess of raw nerves too spent and exhausted to stop us when we do it all over again. But I don’t fight him on it when he looks about ready to strangle a kitten.
“Okay.”
He shoots me a murderous glower like I’m not taking him seriously enough — which I am not; if he thinks we can ever go back, he’s delusional.
“We can’t!”
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
“Stop saying that, goddamn it!”
I laugh because what the fuck else am I supposed to do when he’s acting like either of us have a choice in the matter?
“No fucking Everly,” I recite.
“Why?” our torment murmurs in the painful silence. Her face tips to mine, so fucking close I could kiss her without moving. And I do. I fucking do because she’s right there and I’m not passing up a single opportunity. “Why won’t you fuck me? Was I not good? I can try harder.”
My heart shatters in my chest at the hurt in her eyes.
“God, baby, you were fucking perfect.”
She licks her lips, and I’m ensnared in the simple motion. “Then why? Why does no one want me?”
