“Please. I promise everything will be okay. Just trust me,” she pleaded. “I see you, Cash McGraw. I see you.”
I see you, were three of the scariest words a person could say to me.
Only ’cuz I hadn’t heard, “I love you” yet.
Chapter 5
“You can trigger me. But they’ll never figure me out.”
-Eminem
<>Journey<>
The silence on his private jet was deafening. For the last ten hours on this fourteen-hour flight, Cash didn’t sleep, he didn’t talk, he didn’t move from where he was sitting, unless it was to use the restroom.
Lost in his own mind.
I tried to keep mine occupied with mindless movies, while trying to ignore the fact he was pounding down whiskey like it was water.
One glass.
Two glasses.
Four glasses.
Six.
He drank.
He drank a shitload.
Every time I peered over at him from across the aisle, he was chugging the amber liquid. One right after another with no end in sight. I’d never seen anyone handle their alcohol like him. Making his way to the bathroom didn’t faze him. He walked the line each time, never once stumbling. The amount of whiskey he drank since we’d stepped foot onto the plane would have knocked anyone on their ass.
Cash looked fucking sober which was the most chilling thought of them all.
I couldn’t help but notice the flight attendant never asked him what he wanted to drink. She never asked him a damn thing. From the moment he sat in the leather seat, furthest away from me, she instantly brought him a drink. As soon as it was empty, she’d simply hand him another.
They didn’t make eye contact. He never asked. It was like a silent agreement between the two of them.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,” he rasped, first to break the silence. Downing another swig. “Been drinkin’ a long time, darlin’. I’m a grown-ass man. I know my limits, and I’m far from it, yeah?”
“Cash, you’ve almost killed an entire bottle of straight-up whiskey. How much more can you handle before you throw up your liver?”
He scoffed out a chuckle. “I don’t need a mother hen.”
“Yeah? Well, how about a best friend?”
His gaze shifted to meet my concerned stare. “My heart is empty, Junie. I gotta fill it wit’ somethin’.”
I winced, not trying to hide it.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful. Do you have any idea how fuckin’ stunnin’ you are, baby?” He rubbed his fingers along his lips. “For the last three days I’ve thought ’bout your lips. They’re fuckin’ addictin’, that mouth of yours.”
“Is this the booze talking, Cash?”
“I don’t need liquor to tell ya how much I wanna make you mine.”
“We don’t need to get married for that to happen.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. You know you could ask me out on a date first. Normal people usually start there.”
“And what part of my life looks normal to you, darlin’?”
“Touché.”
He hadn’t spoken to me like this since he proposed three days ago. Life of Debauchery had scheduled back-to-back shows, and his time was spent in rehearsal with the band. I truly thought he was going to cancel on me and make up some excuse as to why he couldn’t come home with me.
He didn’t.
There we were, heading full speed into the consequences of his actions. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, hoping I was doing right by him. It wasn’t Harley, or Bailey, or our families I was worried about.
Jackson.
My brother was a Grade A asshole, and he never had any problems speaking his mind. The animosity between Cash and Jackson ran thicker than blood. Always had. They didn’t think I noticed as a child, but I did. They couldn’t stand each other, which only seemed to get worse as the years passed us by.
Harley used to be the cause of their issues. She was their big divide, having to choose between her best friend and my brother. Eventually, it worked itself out. Cash stepped aside, and Jackson claimed her as his.
Including Bailey.
It didn’t surprise me my brother raised her, loved her, and was completely devoted to being her father. He was an amazing dad to her and their son, Beau. Jackson was a lot like our father, stepping up to the plate no matter the cause. His first love and priority were his family.
Ride or die.
I still remembered the first time I brought a boy home when I was fifteen-years-old. Jackson used any means to warn guys off me, like he did with Harley. At the time, he hadn’t lived at home for years. However, it didn’t stop him from showing up on his high horse, solely to bully my date into submission.
“If something happens to my baby sister. If you so much as lay one goddamn finger on her pretty little head, I will shove my Glock so far down your throat—”
“Jackson! Oh my God! Mom!”
The whole school knew about their altercation before I even walked through the doors the following Monday morning. Embarrassing the hell out of me for years to come. He ruined my chances at having a boyfriend for the rest of my high school days. I went on a few dates here and there, kissed a couple of guys, but that was the end of it.
I didn’t date much.
No one wanted to mess with the NFL MVP’s little sister.
In Jackson’s eyes and mind, I’d forever be his baby sister with pigtails, riding my pink tricycle. It didn’t matter how much I changed or how old I was. Jackson would always see me as the baby he took care of in our father’s absence after the woman who gave birth to us passed.
I’d heard enough stories from everyone in the family about my dad going AWOL after our biological mother died. Camila saved him, saved all of us. My parents never tried to hide who I was, or where I came from. I always knew the truth. They’d show me photos and videos of her often.
I didn’t care.
She meant nothing to me. I felt no emotional attachment to her. If anything...
I fucking hated her.
Most of the time, Jackson acted like my second father. Turning into an angry beast at the drop of a dime like our daddy. His temper knew no bounds. It was a Pierce trait. I’d seen him fly off the handle more times than I cared to remember. Especially when it came to his family’s well-being.
He was overprotective.
Loyal.
Loving.
Annoyingly so.
It was becoming apparent that Cash knew more about me than I gave him credit for. Out of nowhere, he stood and walked in my direction. Before I could say a word, he grabbed my hand with a sinister look in his eyes. I didn’t question it. I followed close behind him as he led me toward the back of the plane with his whiskey in tow.
Seconds later, he opened the door to reveal a gorgeous private bedroom. A king-sized bed took up almost the entire suite in the middle of the open space. Although it was the gray plush comforter that caught my attention the most. I instantly wondered if it was as comfortable and inviting as it appeared.
“Wow...” I breathed out, taking in the luxurious décor and tan textured pattern on the walls. My fingers grazed along the wallpaper. “This is what dreams are made of.”
He nodded, grinning like a fool.