Worth It (35 page)

I open my eyes slowly and squint at the light coming in through the windows, and I groan. I should have closed the blinds, knowing this room faced east.
Man, I only had a few beers
. We stayed up wicked late, playing poker. It can’t be earlier than seven or eight in the morning, and I think we all crashed around three or four. I groan again and shift my weight, trying to get comfortable and go back to sleep.

Need more sleep.

An arm comes around my waist, and I practically leap out of my skin. I launch into a seated position quickly, and I turn my body to see who the fuck is in bed with me. I stare down in disgusted horror when I see Danielle wearing a skimpy little nightie.

She smiles seductively up at me. “Morning, baby,” she purrs, looking at me with half-lidded eyes.

I’m stunned speechless for a second before I finally spit out, “What the fuck?”

She flinches before recovering. “Didn’t you enjoy last night?” she coos, reaching over to trail her fingers on my chest.

I swat her hand away, fighting the urge to shudder and roll my eyes at her tactics. “I had four beers over a six-hour period, Danielle. I’m not fucking stupid. I enjoyed playing poker with the guys last night, and nothing else happened. Cut the shit.”

She clenches her jaw slightly before running her tongue along her upper lip, attempting to be seductive. “You didn’t enjoy our lovemaking? I know I did.”

I think she’s officially landed in crazy psycho-bitch territory—if she wasn’t there already. “We didn’t fuck, and we’re not getting back together. I’m seeing someone else, so cut the fucking shit.”

She ignores me and sits up slowly, pushing out her nearly see-through covered chest. She lifts her hand to run her fingers along her cleavage. She gives me a look that she must think is sexy, but I shudder.

“Come on, baby, we had fun when we were together. She can’t possibly give you what I can.”

“Like what? An STD?”
God, I don’t know what I saw in her.

Sure, she’s gorgeous and good in the sack, but now, I’ve been with Anna, who rocks my world like I never knew possible. I know what I have with her—my sexy, sweet, beautiful Anna. Danielle might be fine for someone else—
a masochist maybe
—but I want nothing to do with this bitch in front of me.

She flattens her lips. “It’s not like I was going to do anything with your brother. I just wanted to make sure he was loyal to you, and see, he was. It was all a big misunderstanding.”

“What? Do you really believe that crap? Because I don’t actually.” I stop when I realize I’m arguing with her, and I know this will get me nowhere. I close my eyes. “Just get your clothes on and get out. Honestly—”

Her mouth is on mine, her tongue seeking entry, but I push her off and wipe her slobber off my mouth.

I glare at her. “You know what? It’s fine. You stay here. I have more clothes on anyway.” I stand up, fully clothed from last night, and walk to the door. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” I grit out as I open the door and walk out without looking back at her.

“Jed, wait,” she calls out, following behind me. “Wait!” she screeches.

I stop in the hall and turn to face her. I whisper heatedly, “Do you have no respect for anyone but yourself? You’re going to wake everyone up.”

“Please, Jed, please…”

I tune her out and start to walk away, but she latches on to my arm.

“Jed, we can be good together again. Please…I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”

Maggie’s door swings open, and she looks back and forth between me and Danielle. She must realize what is going on because she closes her eyes and shakes her head slightly. When, her eyes open again, she mouths,
sorry
.

“It’s not your fault, Mags. I was looking forward to your breakfast, but I’m gonna head out.”

Throughout the exchange, Danielle is still pulling on my arm and continues to beg. I don’t want to be a heartless asshole, but she has officially pushed me too far.

I shrug her off, lean in close to her face, and say in a low cold voice, “Danielle, we’re done. This needs to stop. I’m with someone else, and even if I wasn’t, I don’t want you. I’m sickened that I ever did. Cut the shit, and go try to sink your vile claws into someone else.”

I turn and leave, but not before I see her flinch like she’s been slapped. I fucking hope I finally got this bitch off my back, but part of me is worried that I’m only poking the snake.

I try to muster up some tears as they lower my aunt into the ground, but I can’t even pretend to give a flying fuck since all I want to do is have a fucking party. Part of me wants to pretend to cry though because the irony of crying over someone I hated sounds funny.

Instead of smiling, I sit in the hard fucking chair in the cold fucking wind with a fake frown on my face. It’s the only form of sympathy I can produce. After all, it would look bad if one of the few people who came to her funeral was grinning, which is what my face really wants to do right now. I fucking hated this woman. Not only did she leave me in foster care after my mom OD’d when I was nine, but she also forced me to leave the best fucking toy imaginable.

Savannah.

I got into some deep fucking shit back in Lowell—where the cunt sent me after she heard me ass-fucking Savannah.
Ah, Christ.
Just thinking about that sweet young body has my cock stirring. Honestly, my fucking aunt deserved to die for forcing me to give up that ass. She said some bullshit about calling the cops for some shit about underage fucking.
Fuck that.
I wasn’t going to go to prison. My Savannah had finally started to fight a little that night, too.
Shit, that was hot.
My dick is rock solid right now. I’m gonna have to go rub one out after this dog and pony show.
I wonder if she’s still around. I know she’d want my cock again
. Dirty little whore.

Thank Christ I’m the only living relative my aunt had or else I might not have been left her house, and I would have been stuck back in Lowell with a few angry motherfuckers breathing down my neck. It’s not my fault I fucked some asshole’s sixteen-year-old daughter. She was asking for it, flaunting her shit everywhere. I was lovin’ the fight she was putting up, too, pretending she didn’t want it, but then she bit my hand hard enough to draw blood.
That fucking cunt dared to bite me. I don’t fucking think so
. I fucked up her face, but the dumb bitch deserved it.

It turned out that her father was high up on the drug hierarchy, and he didn’t like me teaching his daughter a lesson.
Fuck him
. He should have taught his daughter not to be a disrespectful slut. I’m sure stealing a few grand worth of coke and selling it to make some money didn’t help, but I needed the fucking money. The guy didn’t need to be such a fucking asshole though, telling everyone I was a dead man. I needed to get out. What better place to go than the small little town of Groton? After all, this was the same place where life was so great before. I had no responsibilities, except for the occasional shift at the convenience store where I could score drugs and fuck girls in the back room. Then, I’d go fuck Savannah every which way I wanted. I loved the power I had over her, the way I controlled her. It was fucking amazing.

After I meet with the stupid fucking lawyer to get the deed to the house, I drive to my new home in my shit beater, a white Subaru Outback. I haven’t had it long, but it’ll do for now. Maybe I’ll sell some of my aunt’s stupid shit that she kept around after my uncle died and get some money for a better car. I’ll probably have to get a job, too. Nothing too much because that’ll take time out of fucking and getting high, but something small, so I can afford utilities and shit since the house is already paid off.

As I drive by Savannah’s old house, I slow the car down a little to see if I can catch a glimpse of her.
God, it’s been, what? Five years? A little more?
I wonder if she even lives here anymore
. I’m twenty-five now, so that makes her, what? Twenty-two, I think.
She might be a little old for me now, but shit, it would be nice to be inside that hot body again. I’ve thought of her, here and there. She’s the only skank who let me own her like that. She let me beat her and fuck her however I wanted to, and she kept coming back for more. God, I loved that. I miss it, and with my aunt out of the way, I might be able to have it again. I don’t know if she lives around here anymore, but I’ll keep my eye out—just in case.

The next week flies by.

While Jed was playing poker, I went up to Shannon’s and had a jam night. Aaron was there but no Jared, which I was a little grateful for. I don’t think he wants me, but I knew it would make Jed more comfortable. I told him Jared wouldn’t be there when he stopped by my work before heading off to his friend’s house. By the look of relief that flittered across his face before he tried to hide it, I knew that he was happy about it.

On Saturday, we spent all night together after I got out of work, and on Sunday, we went to his parents’ house again for their weekly family gathering. The rest of the week was business as usual—school, work, study, Jed, repeat. For the most part, it has been the same as the previous weeks, except I’ve been staying over a couple of nights, and we seem to be growing even closer. I haven’t had a nightmare in over a week, and I’m sure it’s because, aside from the teacher test, I’ve been mostly stress-free and happy.

Every day that goes by, I’m so thankful that I opened up to Jed. He didn’t judge me or act like I was disgusting. He’s sweet, caring, and protective, and I’m starting to realize that if he doesn’t think I’m disgusting, then maybe I’m not. Another part of me is a little worried that I’m doing it again—latching on and defining myself by what he thinks. I don’t want to do that. I want to be okay when I stand on my own two feet, but the other part doesn’t really care because it feels so damn good to have a man, especially this man, truly care about me.

Shannon said that it’s normal to trust and lean on someone I care about, so I’m just going to roll with it. I haven’t opened up about
him
and the experiences that damaged me the most yet, but I will eventually. I think I trust Jed enough to tell him, but I’m just not sure that I’m ready to talk about it or even acknowledge that it happened. It was hard enough, trying to shove that fucker in a box and bury it, so I’m a little scared to open it back up. Although, it did feel good to get the rape off my chest, and part of me thinks that maybe I’d get a similar relief if I opened up about
him.
I’m just terrified that the risks outweigh the gains in this particular instance, and I will not go back to that horrible place. I’m a little nervous that Jed will see the faint scars on my wrists, and then that box would be opened before I’m ready.