Mar sighs and traces my forearms, picking at the dress-shirt. “Take this off,” she breathes.
I undo my tie, start to unbutton, eyes locked on hers until I realize Troy’s not moving. I cut a look his way and he rips off his Henley in one swift shot.
“Good thing I’m a virgin,” Mar says.
Troy and I freeze.
She laughs, and we relax as he teases her, “Liar.”
“Couldn’t keep a straight face,” she smirks and touches her nipples, flicking them.
I’m so hard it hurts.
I want her enough that I’ll even let him touch her if that’s what she needs to get off. She glances from Troy to me and holds here.
But the years pass backward to a time when I knew this was fucked up.
I stop unbuttoning. “I can’t.”
Her lips part. “Jack!” She sits up with a start.
Grabbing my tie from the ground where I didn’t even know I’d tossed it, I head for the door. But first, I grab Troy. “She’s off limits.”
He blinks at me, shirtless and pants tented just like mine. His jaw ticks. I can’t blame his hesitation. His voice is a snarl of war against rebellion, “Fine. Okay.”
Marion screams, “What?!”
He whips his Henley off the floor and puts it on as I turn to her and try my best to explain. The blood isn’t in my brain and all I’ve got is a grunted, “Your dad, Marion—”
She cuts me off, “—My dad is out there sleeping with every woman in their twenties—why can’t you?!”
“Because I care about you, kid. I care, that’s why.”
She slumps, helpless and pissed off. “Get back here, Jack.” She points at her pussy. “Come touch me!”
“No.” Flipping around I lock eyes with Troy. “Defy my wishes and our deal is done.”
“I don’t care about the damn deal, Jack,” he says through gritted teeth and sincerity. “I won’t touch her out of respect to you. We’re friends.”
This hits me deep, and I pause, nod, and march off to my Tesla.
Will I regret this?
Of course I will.
Chapter Eleven
Troy
What am I going to do with the stone pole between my legs and the naked ballerina glaring at me from the couch?
I pick up the dress he forgot to give her so she can cover up. Poor guy. It took everything he had to make that choice. I have no clue what that must have felt like. I’m not in his shoes.
To a degree, though, I get it. I want her so bad I’m still licking my lips for the taste hers left behind. I saw his fingers touch her seam, and by the look in his eyes, she was drenched.
My cock is pounding.
Is she going to try to make him pay by seeing if she can fuck me right here and now, just to spite him for running out like that? Mar’s thinking about it. I can see it in her conniving eyes.
She sighs and drops her head on the back of the couch in defeat. “Fine. I’m not going to beg you, Troy. Get over yourself.”
My jaw ticks, because ego has nothing to do with this. Or does it? Who knows? Who can think? My blood left my brain when she dropped her dress.
Handing it to her, I grunt, “Here.”
She snatches it so fast it’s audible. “Why didn’t you convince him?”
“I would never do that.”
“Weak?”
“You have any friends, Marion? Real friends?” Her eyelashes flutter as I sit on the red ottoman. “Like that guy who came to visit…Logan?”
Pulling the dress over her head, she mutters an irritated, “He’s not my friend.”
“You told me you’ve been training together since you were kids. Isn’t he in that picture?” I point to the one where Marion is around nine or ten. I can’t tell. I’m bad with ages. Rising up, I snatch the pink frame and hold it out. “He’s in this, right? That’s a long time to know somebody.”
“We’re not friends! We are acquaintances. He’s Samantha Cocker’s best friend. Not my friend.”
I set the memory down and lean against the wall by it. “You’re a stubborn woman, you know that?”
Her huge eyes flicker and she glances away from me. “Thank you for not saying ‘girl.’”
Glancing over to the cute kids dressed in western-wear, I can’t tell which is Samantha. “You know a Cocker? I’ve met a few at my old bar. Good people.”
Marion groans dramatically. “I am so sick of hearing how good they are! So what?! So what if they are nice?! They’ve never been hurt! They don’t have infidelity in their lives! Their parents are all fucking perfect!”
My eyebrows go up and I walk over to sit across from her, picking up the ottoman and sitting on it even thought it’s too short for my long legs. I can see Marion’s face better this way. And I’m starting to see other things more clearly, too. “You think you’re the only one who’s been hurt?”
She frowns, lips tightening. “They—”
“—How do you know, Marion? You think they’d publicize it if they had problems? Everyone knows who they are in this city. There’s so damn many of them, and some are even famous! You think they’re giving out their secrets? That family is so tight that I bet you if they had problems, they’d handle them quietly amongst themselves. You think there’s no infidelity anywhere there? I have a hard time believing that. And even if they don’t, they’ve had other issues. We all have them. In pretty much every family alive, there are addiction issues, infertility, psycho lovers, lost jobs, and nobody can escape death. Hell, we all lose people.” Reaching out for her leg, I clasp her bare knee. “You lost your Dad, in a way, right?”
Mar’s staring at me with the most fragile look I’ve ever seen. She wants to trust me with what she’s really feeling, but she’s too scared to try. “My Dad’s around. I haven’t lost him.”
“Your mom.”
“She’s…around.”
My eyes narrow. “It’s your mom. You lost her, is that it?”
Marion’s tongue goes sharp again. “I said she’s around. You’re not my shrink!”
I stand up, rub my legs to make my pants smooth out, and walk away on a frustrated, “I wasn’t trying to be your shrink. I was trying to be your friend.”
As I head down our hallway she calls my name, and her voice cracks. “Troy!”
I spin around, make good time back into our living room. “Yeah?”
Quietly, she confesses, “I did lose her. I lost my mom a long time ago. The person I thought she was vanished on me! How do you trust someone when you can’t trust your own mom?”
I know the basics of the story. David leaked most of it over poker nights. Jack explained the rest when I moved in and we were the only ones left after games ended.
I sit on the couch and pull her to me. She lays on her side, head in my lap as she stares out at nothing. No tears come this time. She just stares off like someone in shock. I stroke her hair and whisper, “It’s okay, Mar, I’m here.”
Her voice is so quiet I wouldn’t hear it if I wasn’t listening really closely. It’s just a breath, a near silent admittance of a fact she might never have faced before today. “Don’t know how to have friends.”