He snaps around on his heel, his dark e
yes zeroing in on me. “Go to bed,” he growls and I almost flinch. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“No
,” I reply, pressing myself harder against the wall for support and to prevent myself from cowering away from his dark, aggressive stare. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I want to hate him right now. I want to slap him and call him names and leave
…but he told me he loved me. He has told me over and over that he’d never hurt me like that and although tonight leaves me feeling highly betrayed, I know there’s more to it. Miscommunication is a killer and I won’t let this relationship fall victim to it.
His chest rises and falls in quick pants and his lips are parted as his breath is quickly expelled from his lungs before he draws it back in again.
“You’re just going to watch me flip out and give yourself another reason to love me less?”
I feel my features pinch together. “Love you less? How can I love you less?” I step forward. “It doesn’t work that way. I love you to my fullest capabilities or I don’t love you a
t all. There is no in between.”
“And
do you love me now?”
I purse my lips.
Yes.
Yes, I love him now. Yes, I love him after the scene I witnessed at the strip club, but he’s in no position to ask me questions—not while I’ve yet to receive an explanation from him.
“When you’re ready to give me an explanation, I’ll be ready to give you the answer.”
I know I should be fuming. I know I should be the one throwing things and demanding answers, but sometimes a girl just needs to take a step back and be told what to do. A girl should have strong moments, where she’s fierce and in control and sometimes, a girl should have weak moments, where she’s vulnerable and wants to cry just to be told everything is going to be okay. This is a weak moment for me. Maybe I don’t want an explanation…maybe I’m scared of what he’s going to say. As quickly as he builds me up with his sweet lips, I know he can send me crashing at any second.
He doesn’t like my response. I can see panic settle in his eyes and as I’m about to crack—to tell him how much I love him—he storm
s from the room, slamming the door with a loud hit behind him. I sag against the wall and close my eyes.
How the hell am I going to deal with this?
I don’t even
want
to deal with this right now. I’m drunk—a weird on and off sober kind of drunk—but still, my brain is fuzzy. All I want is sleep and some cold fresh water…but first, I have to find my angry fighter.
***
I don’t know how long I walk around the hotel before I locate Seth in the gym. I’m so stupid. The gym should’ve been the first place I checked. I hear Seth’s fists before I see him. My heart beats harder every time his fists slam into the bag, pumping hot, nervous blood through my veins in record time.
I stroll past a
long line of treadmills and over to the bags in the far corner by the weights station. Sure enough, there he is. He has his naked back to me and he doesn’t hear my approach, which is fine by me. I slip onto a nearby bench and watch his shapely back as the muscles tighten and flex while he works his knuckles into the bag. I see his body ripple every time he makes contact and the sound of him expelling air soothes me. He relaxes with every hit, his body becoming increasingly tired. Every now and then, he’ll realize he’s slowing down and then he’ll pick up again, sometimes increasing his power and speed.
After one whole hour of watching him, I lie down on the bench. My spine aches from hunching and my eyes grow
heavier with every passing second. My eyes teeter between alert and sleepy, occasionally falling over the edge and allowing me to take a micro-nap. I wake myself up because I don’t want to fall asleep. I don’t want to deal with this tomorrow. I want it to be over
now
.
I’ll sit up, so I don’t fall asleep.
My toes twitch at the thought, but my body refuses to comply. I give myself a few minutes to gather energy, but after the sixth attempt of fighting sleep, I succumb to it, leaving this situation to linger until tomorrow.
Seth
My knuckles throb and the skin threatens to split as I thrust my bare hand into the bag one last time.
How could I have been so fucking stupid?
I’m supposed to protect her—to look after her—and yet I’ve ignored her calls for the last ten months and neglected to respond to any of her voicemails. Sweat coats my body and I bend down to retrieve my shirt from the floor. I run it over my face and the back of my neck.
Where the fuck is Kye? And why is he letting my little sister grind naked on poles?
The image of her naked body bombards my mind and I recoil from it.
How could I have let this happen?
My baby sister…dancing naked for money.
I grit my teeth and draw myself to full height. She’s not stepping another goddamn toe in a strip club, not if I have anything to do with it.
I turn around, ready to make my way back to the room, but I’m stopped dead in my tracks by a passed out Olivia. The sight of her tired body almost brings me to my knees.
She followed me down here? How long has she been lying on that hard bench?
I remember smashing all of the breakable things upstairs and I remember her leaning against the wall. She’d never admit it, but I could see the absolute fear in her eyes, like she was scared I was going to turn on her
like a wild dog. Sometimes I overreact and smash things…and the thought of her seeing me so mad kills me. I don’t want her to fear me, or to fear pissing me off. She should feel safe, always, and I’d never hurt her physically. She’s so small compared to me…it’s funny how someone so small can completely incapacitate me.
I approach Olivia’s sleeping form and the urge to wake her up and tell her how sorry I am eats at me. I wanted to clear
this up before she fell asleep. All I needed was a little more time. When I get like this…all anxious and crazy, I can’t talk. The mere thought of trying to explain or even listen to people try and explain things to me while I’m so wound up is infuriating. I need to be left with my thoughts and space to work through it alone. If I don’t, I end up saying and doing stupid shit I’ll regret when I’m calm. Seeing her all exhausted and alone makes me anxious and I contemplate waking her just so she can look at me with her green eyes—then I know the pressure in my chest will dissipate.
In the morning, I’ll tell her everything. As much as it kills me to even think about, I’ll tell Olivia that my sister is apparently a stripper at The Spearmint Rhino. She’ll understand.
I throw my t-shirt over my shoulder and bend down, scooping Olivia up into my arms. She barely bats an eyelid. There’s no way she’s waking up, she drank way too hard tonight—and how’s Jackson’s fucking form? He has never, ever, let anything slip about me before—
ever
. He’s used to people pressuring him for info on my personal life and he has never slipped up, not once, but the one time I
needed
him to keep his mouth shut, he speaks. What if he ruined everything for me and O? Olivia isn’t your usual girl. She’s confusing. She’s one big bag of emotions and tricks. Anything you say or do can provoke a different reaction every time. This time, she was cool with it—which was one hundred percent unexpected considering her reaction to the girl at the restaurant. If she decided to flip and leave, I don’t know what I would’ve done. But she shrugged it off like it was no big deal and I don’t know whether I should feel bad or relieved. I know Selena sees Olivia as weak because she bends to my every command, but that’s not weakness. Olivia is anything but weak. Sure, she stayed with her douche ex for a ridiculous amount of time after he cheated on her repeatedly, but
that
isn’t weakness, either. That is fucking strength. I couldn’t handle constantly looking at the face of someone who betrayed me. It’s not her fault. Olivia is a romantic. She sees love in everyone and ignites it in those who care to know her. She believes people can change even if they prove to her a million times that they won’t. I think that’s why she can be so flighty at times. She doesn’t know what to be mad at and what to let go. Blade has done a very good job at training her to deflect her emotions onto random things. Things that should upset her don’t and things that don’t really matter, she freaks out over. It’s like her emotions go into hyper drive and she doesn’t know how to express them. She so desperately tries to give everyone everything they need that she doesn’t realize when people are helping her and when people are attacking her.
I sigh and dip my lips toward Olivia’s damp head and
I kiss it. Hopefully, I’ll always be around to help. So much for a perfect time in Vegas to erase all of her doubts of marrying me. It’s barely day one and I’ve already made a huge mess of it. I pull her tighter into my chest and glance down at her face. I don’t want morning to come because I’m afraid to look her in the face when she wakes up. What if I’ve left it too long and the damage is already done?
***
My arms ache by the time I get Olivia back to the bedroom. The blue glowing numbers on the bedside table signifies it’s two a.m. but I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep knowing my little sister is still out and about in this fucked up city. I don’t know where Kye is, but when I see him, he’s a fucking dead man.
I lie her down on the right side of the bed. Normally, that’s my side of the bed, but since I’ve started sleeping with Olivia, I’ve opted for the left because she
also
likes the right side. I pull a light sheet over her and she shifts onto her side. If I ignore the slight furrow between her brows, she looks peaceful.
I turn from the bed and leave the room. I drop my t-shirt on the st
airs and sit down with a loud exhale. I know I should be trying to get some sleep now, considering I have a formal dinner tonight (technically) but I can’t sleep, not after tonight, and definitely not after seeing my sister naked, dancing on a pole. I have to go back and get her. No sister of mine will dance for money—and what pisses me off the most is that it’s all my fault. I ignored her calls and I refused to get back to her because I’m too damn stubborn for my own good. I’ve been so caught up in how my life was going that I didn’t care to know how Maddi’s was panning out.
I reach for my shirt and pull it over my head. It’s a little wrinkled and damp, but it’s going to have to do. I use the rail to pull myself to my feet and I stomp down the rest of the stairs. When I get to the door, I pull it open and instantly my stomach sinks into itself in both anger and relief. She’s clothed, at least, in a loose t-shirt and a pair of tight, black skinny jeans. My eyes zero in on a small trail of inked lady birds that appear to be strolling along her collar bone.
“Don’t look at them like that,” Maddi scoffs, pushing past me and into the room. “They’re cute.”
I fight the urge to mock her as I shut the door and turn around, leaning my back against it. I watch her as she stuffs her hands into the back pocket of her jeans and strolls around the main room, assessing all of the damage with an amused smirk on her lips.
“Still smashing things when you’re upset, I see.”
“Skip the bullshit,
Maddi,” I snap. “What the fuck?”
She tucks one side of her long black hair behind her ear, all while her brown eyes glare at me. “Now you want to talk? Do I have to
show up unannounced just so you’ll talk to me?”
I shake my head.
“Ten months. For ten months I’ve been calling you for help, but you ignored me.”
I push off of the door. “I’ve been busy—look where you’re standing. It took me a lot of time, money
, and effort to get here.”
Maddi
flinches, her eyes narrow into accusing slits. “I couldn’t give two shits if I’m standing in the Queen’s palace right now. The material items you have mean nothing to me.” She strolls toward the kitchen. “You couldn’t even spare one second for your sister? Family…have you ever heard of the fucking word?”
She leans against the white, square
kitchen island and plucks a grape off its bunch before popping it into her mouth.
“I know that word better than you. You left me to
deal with Mom when you knew she and I have a difficult relationship.”
Maddi
smiles.
She fucking smiles at me.
“And how’s that going for you?”
“How’s that going? She’s in a rehab facility in California. That’s how it’s going.”
Her posture stiffens. “And you didn’t t
hink to call and tell me that?”
“You wanted nothing to do with her after she hit
you. Why would I call you? So you can tell me you don’t care?”
“Of course
I fucking care! She’s still my mother.”
I shrug my shoulders and she rolls her eyes at my attitude. Why does she always make me feel like a child? God know
s we argue like children. Anyway, going over this is pointless—it won’t change anything. It won’t get Mom out of rehab or magically fix Maddi’s stripping problem.
“Where the hell is
Kye?” I ask her. “I want to see him.”
And just like that, I see the color drain from her face. Even her bright red lipstick lessens in its hue.
“I don’t know where he is.”
She’s lying. I can tell by the way she averts he
r gaze and her eyelids flutter.
“Don’t play with me,
Maddison. I’ll go out and search every shitty bar in this city until I find him.”
She doesn’t move and I let a few second
s pass. When I know she isn’t going to tell me, I move for the door. I’m not fucking around. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it. Period. As my fingers curl around the cool metal of the door handle, she breaks.
“Stop!”
Slowly—almost triumphantly—I turn around. She starts to pick nervously at her red nail polish. “Kye doesn’t know that I strip for cash.”
“What?” My voice comes out in a loud boom, making
Maddi jump and undoubtedly waking Olivia. “He doesn’t know? Who takes you to and from work? Who protects you?”
“I do it all myself, I’m not a child anymore. I’m
twenty-one.”
Hearing her say
it the way she does sounds anything but grown up. I don’t see her as twenty-one. I see her as the little girl I grew up with. In my mind, she doesn’t drink or have sex—or get tattoos. She’s supposed to be the good child…
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Have I become the good child?
“
Why?” I breathe, running my hands over my face. “Out of everything you could do, why stripping?”
She shrugs. “It’s expensive in Vegas. The
touristy prices are ridiculous and well, I’ve got the body for it.”
I scowl at her.
“It’s only temporary,” she adds. “until Kye and his band gets picked up.”
“Yeah
…there’s no way I’m relying on that talentless asshole to help you out of this situation.” I spin on the heel of my foot and march up the stairs, ignoring my sister calling after me. I can fix this…all I have to do is find my goddamn checkbook.
I dig around in my suitcase, locating
it underneath a few pairs of socks. When I turn around, my gaze skims over the bed and I see Olivia’s tired face blinking at me. I can’t help but smile. I like seeing her dazed, it’s cute. She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.
“If you give me ten minutes, I’ll be right back with the answer to any question you want to ask me.”
I tear from the room before she responds. I want to come through on my promise of ten minutes. Olivia has waited enough on my account tonight and she still has no idea who Maddi is to me. The last she saw, I was on the stage at the Spearmint Rhino trying to pull a girl off of it and then I refused to talk to her…man, am I shaping up to be dickbag of the year or what?
Downstairs,
Maddi is still pigging out on grapes and I ignore the way she peels them from their skin.
Old habits never die.
I detach the pen from my checkbook and lay the book flat against the table top. I’ll give her thirty thousand dollars. That should keep her out of the clubs for a few weeks and when she runs out, I’ll give her more and more and more until she realizes Kye and his lame dream isn’t going anywhere and drops his loser ass.
“What are you doing?”
Maddi asks me curiously as I sign away tens of thousands of dollars.
“What does it look like? I’m giving you money.”
“That’s not why I came here.”
I ignore the offended tone in her voice.
“Maybe not, but since you did, you’re not leaving here until you take the money and promise me you’ll stop stripping.”
“And if I don’t take your money?”
Maddi.
I shake my head, she’s always misunderstanding my demands for questions—like Olivia.
“
Take the money, stop stripping, and I won’t tell Kye about your temporary lapse in judgment.”