Eloise. Named after the first person to ever put a bow in my hands when I was three.
“Thanks dad,” I whisper and manage to lift the corners of my mouth into a smile.
I put one foot in front of the other and push myself toward a journey I never, in a million years, thought I would ever take.
I put one foot in front of the other, and trade the life I knew for a life that, thus far, has only brought sadness and pain and danger.
Just as we’re about to pass each other, I stop, throwing my hands around my father’s neck and squeezing him tightly. He doesn’t hold back, embracing me the way that only a father could. He’s angry, yes. But love trumps anger every single time.
From here, I can see mom pouting in the kitchen. There’s so much she wants to say, but she can’t find the words. I walk towards her, but she turns away. Her rejection stings more than Maverick’s annoyance.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I whisper by the curtains before turning and heading for the door.
23
The car ride back to Maverick’s flat is a quiet one for me. Maverick is carrying on about something that has to do with me, I’m sure, but I don’t care enough to tune in. My mind is not here right now. Neither is my heart. To lose both in one day is nothing short of torture.
I continue looking out the window, thinking nothing and hearing even less. When Maverick pulls into his driveway, I’m genuinely surprised and disappointed that we’ve already arrived.
“Are you getting out?” he asks, and I look over at the open door.
In a daze, I force myself out of the vehicle and quietly walk behind him.The events of the day tumble over each other in my mind, almost ripping the air from my lungs.
I’ve moved out of my parents’ house.
I’ve lied to my parents.
I’m marrying a maniac.
What in the ever living hell am I thinking?
I follow Maverick to a guest room that wasn’t shown to me on the first tour. Further exaggerating just how unfair this wretched thing called life is. Here Maverick is, alone and cruel with his lonesomeness, but has the kind of house that could and should house a family. As for me, I’ve scavenged for space my entire life, squeezing into a room that could barely fit my thoughts, but still out of our range of affordability. Maybe that has something to do with the reason my family and I are so close and why Maverick hasn’t even a single picture of his in this massive place. You give people too much space and they’ll take it. That’s what Maverick obviously did. He accepted the space his parents put between him and them and reveled in the loneliness.
Maverick is rattling off instructions, but I’m ignoring him. I need a break from the incessant chatter. Too much has happened tonight and I feel like I’m losing myself.
This all seems so unreal.
So cruel.
Like nothing I deserve.
I walk over to the perfectly made bed and drop the bag with my belongings on the floor beside it. Gently, I peel Eloise off my back and place her carefully on the nearby sofa.
There is a freaking sofa in the bedroom. There’s hardly an entire sofa in my living room at home. Unfair. So unfair.
Walking back over to the bed, I allow myself to sink into the soft inviting embrace of the memory foam mattress. Tears start flowing down my face instantly. My heart feels raw and achy as I replay the events of this unbearably long day. Everything that could have gone wrong seems to have done so in extravagant fashion. I loathe self-pity, but I am kissing the edge of that precipice as fresh tears spring to my eyes.
‘Enough of this, Bethany Hendrickson’ I scold myself, dragging my body off the bed and heading for the bathroom to take a very long, hot shower in an attempt to wash my woes away.
24
The plain white judgment of my bedroom ceiling as I open my eyes, makes me acutely aware of just how royally I fucked up last night. Everything about last night had been one impulsive decision after another and now, Beth is living in my flat.
Fucking Bethany Hendrickson. Jesus.
There’s a text on my phone from Collin inviting me and my fiancé to visit his office today. I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom to arm myself for the long-ass weekend that lay ahead of me.
The hot water bites into my skin and I relish the pain as it dissipates into a bearable numbness. My thoughts have been haunted by that dingy flat all night, like something from a horror film. Such poverty should qualify as an extreme sport. Seriously, they deserve an award for being able to survive there for as long as they have.
I doubt they’ve ever had a surplus of anything, maybe just about enough. Yet, somehow, despite the unquestionable lack, it’s obvious that they aren’t short on love. I could see it in the way they handled the disappointment. No harsh words, no violence. A part of me still can’t believe there is such a thing as parenting without manipulation. But I saw it last night and god do I wish I could somehow relate.
As I shampoo my hair, I remember my finger on Beth’s cheek and the way she hid from me as though she had a secret hidden behind her eyes that she didn’t want to reveal. Especially not to me.
My own body had betrayed me, though she was too busy hiding from me to notice. It makes no sense. I despise girls like her. So plain. So poor. So innocent. Perfectly untainted. Not broken and battered like the rest of us.
Still, there was something about her that riled me up and intrigued me, and the more she pissed me off, the more intrigued I became. It’s self-torture of a brand new kind.
‘Get it together, Williams,’ I scold myself, letting the water take the foam of the shampoo from my hair, ushering it down my body.
I watch the water dance down the drain, thinking that the mundaneness of it will help to wash Beth away from my mind. Instead, I’m flooded with memories of the first time she came here. Of her first time in my shower. The show I’d forced her to put on.
Her naked figure appears before me and I groan at the sudden tug in my balls.
“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” I stare down at my slowly growing cock.
“This is Beth we’re talking about,” I try to reason with it, but the memory of the supple bounce of her breasts sitting high up on her chest, the dip and curve of her surprisingly toned stomach, the muscles in her legs and the neat trim of an even more neatly tucked vagina keep appearing before me.
I suppose I understand why that Tyler guy was so quick to defend her. He’s probably seen the goods too. They’re nice goods. Really fucking nice goods. I bet she tastes like heaven too. So much so that I wouldn’t mind burying my face in her pussy or her ass and licking until my tongue catches a cramp. Shit. Fuck. That’s not what I’m supposed to be thinking.
“For the love of God, shut up,” I groan to myself, fully erect and straining for release.
My hands firmly grip my shaft and I squeeze, my toes curling at the sensation.
I close my eyes and slowly stroke my full length up and down, rotating my hand just a little here and a little there. Out of nowhere, I picture Beth, on her knees kneeling before me, eagerly waiting to taste me as she trails her fingertips along my skin and I shiver from her gentle touch.
When she takes me into her mouth, my head falls back and my face is greeted by a direct spray of water. The strokes are faster, more urgent as she pulls me deeper into her throat and I can feel horses galloping inside my chest as I approach my climax.