Almost Innocent (10 page)

Apparently if you were dating the city’s favorite bad boy, it was. Which was one reason I’d escaped to the quiet of the backyard.

He could do whatever he wanted with the girls in there—it was a free country. I didn’t want to see it happening though. The worst part was that I didn’t care.

Well, that wasn’t true. It bugged the shit out of me.

I wasn’t jealous. I was embarrassed.

The people who saw him in there tonight, with a girl who wasn’t me hanging off him, would give me pitying looks whenever they saw me. The girls who he’d touch, the ones who didn’t care that he was only using them or that his girlfriend was downstairs, would smirk at me and talk about me in the halls at school.

They all acted as though I was some cold-hearted tease who wouldn’t put out. Others thought I was such a bad lay that he had to find his satisfaction elsewhere. Or that he was just too much man for me.

We’d been dating for almost a year, off and on. It had its ups and downs. We’d argue, he’d rage, I’d leave, then he’d think clearly and beg me to come back. I always did.

We hadn’t had sex yet. We’d done everything else, numerous times, but never actually done the deed. Every time he brought it up, every time we got to the point of no return, I backed away. Dustin was a controlling jerk who I liked to let think he had the upper hand, but he never pushed me to go all the way.

He’d nod, kiss me on the forehead, and leave. He never called me a tease, because he knew that I would take care of him if he needed me to. I just didn’t want to sleep with him yet.

It wasn’t about stringing him along or playing hard to get. I wasn’t a clueless little virgin. But Dustin was intense. He liked to do things I’d only ever heard about, things that teetered on the border of making me uncomfortable.

He liked it rough, enjoyed tying me down and leaving marks on my body so that others would know I was taken. And he liked it when I left my mark on him. I thought it was fucked up, so I wasn’t ready to take the next step yet. I knew one day an ultimatum would come, but I didn’t know which option I’d choose.

Every time he got drunk or high, which was all the fucking time, he got horny. Which meant I either had to spend a shit ton of time on my knees having my hair yanked, or act as if I didn’t care if he slept with other people. I chose option two.

My best friend, Ivy, hated Dusty. She couldn’t understand why I would waste my time on someone like him when so many other boys would be a better option. The answer was that I didn’t know why.

Dustin was gorgeous. His mother told me once that they were “black Irish,” which I’d had to look up because I thought it referenced their black souls. It actually just meant they had dark hair and darker skin than their redheaded fair-skinned countrymen.

Wherever he got his looks from, he turned heads. Dustin was tall with wide shoulders and a commanding presence. His facial features though made women notice him. I liked his eyes the best—almond-shaped deep chocolates that were so unique they could almost hypnotize you.

When he wasn’t being a dick, he was fun to be around. We laughed a lot when he was sober. And the best part was that being around Dustin allowed me to be around Declan. Even thinking of Dec now made me regret calling Ivy my best friend. She was my best girl friend. Dec was my best friend. I hated the days when I couldn’t talk to him.

When Dusty and I were on breaks, or when we were fighting, it meant no Declan. Bros before hoes or some pathetic bullshit. Declan was afraid of his brother—at least, I assumed he was because everyone else was—so I had no doubt that played a part in it. If Dustin couldn’t talk to me, then neither could Declan.

It was stupid as shit. I pretended it didn’t bother me, but it hurt. I didn’t have any siblings, and maybe if I did, I’d feel differently, but it made me sad either way. I wanted Dec around all the time.

If I was being completely honest, the reason I wouldn’t break up with Dustin for good was because I didn’t want to lose Declan.

“Why are you hiding out here?”

I tensed, not recognizing the voice that had startled me out of my heavy thoughts, and for a minute, I was afraid to turn around. But Dustin wouldn’t come out here looking for me. No, if he needed me, he’d tear apart the house then stand on the deck, bellowing my name. If that didn’t work, he’d send one of his pathetic followers after me.

Only one person would come find me. “Dec.”

Instead of plopping down in the swing next to me, as he had so many times, he moved in behind me. Grabbing the chain just above my hands, he leaned against my back. “Why are you hiding out here, Little G?”

I smiled at the way he said little. He always, always added an adorable Irish accent to it. It had been his nickname for me ever since his dad had driven me home months ago. He never used it when anyone else was around, making me love it even more. It was our secret. Tonight though, he was slurring his words more than a fake accent required.

I leaned back against him, giggling. “Are you drunk?”

“Me? No,” he scoffed. “I only had a few.” He wrapped one arm around me, holding the other out and picking up four fingers. “This many. Five. I only had five.”

I laughed again, standing and taking his hand to lead him over to the lawn chair. I pushed him down on it gently, so he was sitting, and I didn’t have to worry about him passing out and hitting his head on the patio.

Before I could move to sit next to him, he pulled me between his open legs and hugged me. “I love you.” One of his ears was pressed to my stomach, his arms a vise grip around my back.

I smiled as I ran my fingers through his hair. “As I love you, my friend.”

I was shoved back half a step as he stood clumsily, almost knocking us over. Dec had grown significantly over the last few months, but he was nowhere near his brother’s size. I could easily look him in the eyes without hurting my neck.

Right then, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him though. The air had grown heavier suddenly, thick with a tension I couldn’t explain. A thousand and five emotions swirled through me, most completely inappropriate. I wished I’d had a drink earlier so I could blame my feelings on the alcohol, but I was pathetically sober.

“Why are you with him? He doesn’t deserve you. He’s stupid. Actually stupid, Gabs. And he’s mean. A fucking prick.”

I stared at Declan’s neck, unable to argue with anything he was saying.

“He has you. You’re all alone out here, and he’s in there with them. Tell me, baby. Explain why you’re with him.” He spit out the last few words as if Dustin was something dirty.

“I don’t know.” If I couldn’t answer the question for myself, how in the hell was I going to answer it for him?

His fingers moved quickly, skimming up the back of my tank top, massaging the back of my neck for a moment, then he cupped my cheek, forcing my head back slightly. “God, Gabby.” The words were a whispered plea. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad it hurts.” He groaned, his thumb caressing my cheek, his dark eyes full of things I couldn’t begin to understand.

I didn’t think about it. My hand grabbed a section of his shirt, and I took a deep breath. “Then kiss me.”

He inhaled sharply as if my words were a surprise. I’d seen Dec drunk one other time—that was how rare it was—and I knew there was no way in hell he would remember this in the morning. It was safe. Declan was safe.

I thought it would be a quick peck on the mouth, or maybe a slobbery wet kiss like the ones his brother gave, shoving his tongue down my throat as if he was trying to find the tonsils I’d had removed when I was little.

I’d never been more wrong.

The hand on my cheek stayed there, but his other fisted the hair at the back of my skull, forcing me to tip my head back a little more. He leaned in, sliding his nose up the side of my throat, inhaling as if I had the most divine scent in the entire world. His lips went to the space right behind the bottom of my ear first, kissing, nibbling, and teasing across my jaw as goose bumps erupted over my entire body. His nose met mine in the sweetest Eskimo kiss, then his lips were on mine.

Nothing about the way he moved his lips against mine, swept his tongue over each of my lips before closing his teeth around the bottom one, was what I expected. I leaned into him, my nails pressing into his back, needing him closer. Needing more.

When he moved back, I almost cried. Then his teeth were on my neck, doing things that made me forget who we were and where we were. When he laid me back on the chaise lounge, I didn’t fight him. When he covered my body with his, my mind only focused on how important it was to get his shirt off, and I yanked it up and over his head.

Nothing about Declan made me think that my fingers would find baby soft and smooth skin covering a strong back full of toned muscle. He felt amazing, and I never wanted to stop touching him. As he pushed my tank up, giving him access to my stomach, I raked my nails down his back. I wanted him closer, damn it!

I lifted up, grinding my hips against his, and gasped at the hardness I felt. I needed him naked, and I needed it now. I let go of his back and attacked his belt, trying to get it off him as quickly as possible.

“Shit! Gabs, stop!”

My hands fell away as Declan’s entire body weight dropped onto me, his head between the breasts that were still heaving as I tried to catch my breath. I felt his heart beating as fast as mine, and he was gasping for air too. It couldn’t have just been me, right?

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” I tried to force the panic away, but my mind was racing. Why in the hell did he stop?

He shook his head as much as he could. “We can’t do this.” He sounded just as horrified as I felt.

Why in the hell not? I wanted to scream in frustration or demand answers.

“He’s my brother. As much as I hate him, he’s still my brother. And he’s your boyfriend.”

Shame spread over me like cold water from a bucket.

After pushing himself off me, he yanked me to my feet. Risking one more touch, he leaned in for a last kiss. That one was just a peck. “Forgive me?”

I couldn’t look at him. Five seconds ago, I’d been squirming under him, ready to beg him to fuck me. I wouldn’t sleep with his brother, my boyfriend, after months of dating him, but I’d give it up to Declan at a party. Sober. What in the hell was I thinking?

“What are you thinking about?”

My face flamed—at the memory or at the question, I wasn’t sure, and I was grateful that Dec had no idea what I was thinking. “Dustin’s first college party,” I mumbled, knowing he wouldn’t understand.

I touched his chest, unsure of what I was doing or why, but I needed to hold on to that connection from my past. Dec’s heart was thundering away, just as fast as mine. I met his eyes. They’d turned dangerously dark, his face hard, and I knew he was remembering something. Not that night. He’d been way too drunk, and he’d never brought it up. Not once in all these years. But something was wrong.

“Dec?” I heard the desperation in my voice, and I was terrified that whatever he was thinking about would put a wall back up between us.

“That was a shit night that I’d like to forget,” he snarled, surprising me. “It was the night everything changed.”

I
didn’t need prompting
from her to remember that night because it was burned into my memory. I couldn’t forget it if I wanted to. Believe me, I’d tried. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make those memories disappear.

All through freshman year, I’d held on to the knowledge that Dustin would be gone in the fall. I only had to deal with his shit for one more year. Once he was gone, Gabby and I would finally have our chance.

Shit, I practically was counting down the days. Hell, who was I kidding? More than once, I’d actually pulled out a calendar and calculated how much time was left until my freedom arrived.

Then, fucking Dusty being the douche canoe he was, he barely held the grades he needed to graduate. By some fucking miracle, and probably lots of bribes from my dad, his teachers didn’t fail him. He was able to graduate with the rest of his class.

He couldn’t get into any decent college though. My parents had always been clear about one thing—we did not come from a family of uneducated losers. We were to go to college and get our degrees, or they’d cut us off.

To me, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to inherit the business, Dustin was, so I had big plans to make millions of my own. I didn’t need their money, and I sure as hell didn’t want it.

Dustin was the polar opposite though. He relished in his “oldest son of the oldest son” bullshit luck and was giddy about the idea that he would run the empire one day. Power-hungry dick. He never made a back-up plan because he knew he didn’t need one. But if he got cut off, he wouldn’t be able to survive.

For all I knew, my brother may have been brilliant. Maybe his grades were simply a reflection of his carelessness and laziness instead of his inability to understand the subject material. He’d been told all his life that he was the “next in charge,” so maybe he figured he didn’t need to live up to the rest of his potential. God knew I’d looked at him more than once and wondered if he’d been dropped on his head as an infant, or ingested lead paint as a toddler. Something, anything really, to explain the absence of my big brother’s brain.

My father had an Ivy League education and had been chosen to be a Rhodes scholar. He was told he would be a great leader one day. Unfortunately, life got in the way, and my dad had to leave school before he wanted. Spend five minutes with him though, and you understood what it was like to be in the presence of a genius.

My mother may not have gone to Harvard or Yale, but she was just as brilliant in her own right. Everyone who claimed my father would make the perfect politician had obviously not met his wife. Cunning, ruthlessness, and intelligence wrapped in a beautiful package that hid her viciousness and made people gravitate toward her. She often downplayed it, but unless she was with my father, she was usually the smartest person in the room.

When you got Fi talking about science or archeology, she became another person—she transformed before your eyes into a walking encyclopedia. I swear that woman could recite every article about ancient ruins that
National Geographic
ever published. Verbatim.

And me? Well, I’d been called a prodigy since kindergarten when I was enrolled in the gifted and talented program at school—after I passed tests designed for sixth graders. My father started teaching me Latin before I could talk—probably with the hopes that I’d grow up to be a lawyer. But by ten, I was taking a calculus class designed for high schoolers and having in-depth conversations with my father about the economy because the Keynesian theory made sense to me and I didn’t understand why others disagreed.

In a family with brains like ours, Dustin had to have more than average intelligence. Yet he barely pulled in Cs. My parents fought the school, telling them their child was bored, that he needed to be challenged. Nothing worked. Dustin hated being trapped in those four walls every day. So he coped the only way he knew how—my brother became a popular jock.

In a family like ours, where most of us would rather read about the Roman Olympics than sit on a couch and watch the current ones, Dustin was the odd man out.

His hatred of education aside, Dustin knew the only way to take over the company was to get his degree, and he enrolled in a local community college because it was the only school that would accept him. However, that meant that he stayed home. The break from him I so desperately needed never came.

And my hatred for the brother I’d once idolized began to spread.

Gabby’s face was scrunched in confusion, and she was staring into my eyes as if she would see something that would clarify everything for her. I didn’t know what to tell her. I couldn’t begin to describe what that night had been like for me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I stood in the dark corner of the living room, fuming, glaring at my brother as he shoved his hands down the jeans of the nameless whore grinding against him. His goddamn girlfriend was there, somewhere, and could walk in at any minute.

Dustin didn’t fucking care. He’d probably laugh and invite her to join them. Dirtbag.

He acted as though he was hot shit, the big man on campus still. He wasn’t. Yeah, half the people who had invaded my house went to school with him, but they were there for free booze and a good time. They didn’t give a shit who he was. These people weren’t his friends. They didn’t idolize him.

They were using community college as a stepping stone. Next year, they’d be off at real schools and he’d be here, hosting his bullshit parties. Every year, the crowd would get younger and younger until he was the old creepy dude too stupid to know that everyone was just using him.

The girl letting him finger her in the middle of a crowded room was only doing it because he’d promised to get her high afterward. She was, even if she didn’t know it, a prostitute. Selling herself for payment.

My stomach churned in disgust.

Gabby deserved better than this shit. I would give her more. I could give her everything she wanted and needed. She should be mine.

The thought wasn’t a new one, but it hit me before I realized I was thinking about her. Why in the hell wasn’t she my girlfriend? What in the fuck could she possibly have in common with the brainless moron who had now pushed the woman in front of him to her knees?

Fuck him. If he had gone away to school, I would have made my move. He was home, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t. I’d go find her, tell her how I felt, then she could get out of this hellhole with me.

I just needed a shot or two for liquid courage. Screw shots. I knew where my dad hid his best whiskey. Ignoring everyone and everything, I strode to his study.

And drank the whole fucking bottle.

Someone slapped me across the face, hard. I shoved at whoever it was, still half drunk and desperate to get them away from me.

“Wake up, you little shit,” my brother snapped before I was bitch-slapped again, this time harder.

I forced my eyes open, not sure what in the hell was happening. “Wha—”

“Do not speak,” Dustin ordered, his voice unlike anything I’d ever heard from him. “Get your ass up, but you do not say one fucking word to me.”

I forced myself to sit up, pushing away the hands gripping my shirt, realizing I wasn’t in my dad’s office but instead in the solarium. Pain sliced through my brain. When had I come in here?

“What the fuck is your problem?” I asked, my voice breaking pathetically and making me feel even worse, as I scrambled to remember my night.

He laughed, but it was off. Something was wrong. “My problem?” he asked, almost too calm. “Well, little brother”—his eyes widened excitedly, and an eerie smile formed on his lips—“my problem is that I was supposed to be a single man right now.”

I stopped squirming and watched him, not understanding his words. Single. That meant he was breaking up with Gabs. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Gabby is a kid and a fucking prude. I’m tired of wasting my time with her. Especially when so many others want to take her place.”

My mouth was dry, but I couldn’t tell if it was from all the alcohol I’d forced into myself earlier, or if it was because I knew that whatever he was going to say, I wouldn’t like it.

“Then a little birdie”—my eyes followed his as he glanced over his shoulder, and I realized we weren’t alone. Both Mark and Jason, Dustin’s best friend, were lingering across the room—“told me what happened outside.”

What? I moved my gaze back to my brother, but my brain was so foggy, I couldn’t figure out what in the hell he was talking about. “What in the hell are you talking about?” I ran my tongue across my lips, desperate for a glass of water.

Dustin laughed. “You’re such a fucking loser.” He sighed, crossed his arms, and looked down at me as if I was nothing more that a piece of dog shit on his shoe. “You went after my girl.”

My stomach knotted in dread, and I had to force myself not to puke on him. No, I didn’t. I’d planned on it, but I hadn’t actually done it. I swallowed, my throat grinding against itself as if it were made of sandpaper.

“You actually think she’d want you?” He scoffed, obviously disgusted at the idea. “She won’t fuck me, but you think she’s gonna spread her legs for a fat geek like you?”

Jason snorted as if it was the best insult he’d ever heard.

“Never gonna happen. So after I heard about what happened, it made me reevaluate. Things became crystal clear.” His hands spread across the space in front of his face. “I had to look at her with new eyes. Gabby is fucking hot—I can understand why you’d want her.”

“She doesn’t nag. She lets me do whatever the fuck I want with whoever the fuck I want. She’s the motherfucking bomb. I realized how fucking wrong I was. I don’t want to dump her.” He ticked off each attribute with the flick of a finger.

Then he turned toward our audience and nodded. Jason rushed across the room and grabbed me before I could put up a fight, hauling me off the chair I’d been on and holding my arms behind my back. The first punch, right in my gut, was a surprise, and if Jason wasn’t holding me, I would have doubled over in pain.

I’d had physical fights with Dustin before. We’d beat the shit out of each other on numerous occasions. But it had been just the two of us. This was not one of those times.

The blow to my cheek made my head flop to the side as I saw stars. Literally saw stars. I thought that was just in the movies, but it was real. And combined with the raging headache I already had, I knew I would be hurting tomorrow.

My brother took a fistful of my hair, forcing my head back, so I had to look at him. Suddenly the obnoxiousness of girls pulling each other’s hair made sense—that shit fucking hurt. I glared at him, hoping he could feel how much I hated him.

Dustin only smirked, as if asking me what I was going to do about how he was treating me, and leaned close, his nose almost touching mine. “Nah, I’m going to keep her. You want my girlfriend, but I’m going to fuck her raw. Hard and long, so you’ll hear her screaming my name for hours.”

The image infuriated me, and I struggled against him.

He only laughed before landing another blow to my stomach. “You’re a weak, pathetic little piece of shit, but she does love you, doesn’t she? Not the way you want her to, of course. No girl wastes a second of their time on you, do they?” He laughed, an evil sound echoing around the room. “But for some reason, my girl does love you. Know that I’m going to be so goddamn amazing that she can’t help but love me too. I’m going to own every piece of her, claim every hole whether she wants me to or not.”

Punch after punch thundered into my body, over and over. None of them hurt as much as the idea of him hurting her. When Dusty was done, Jason dropped my arms and I fell to the floor, a pile of exhausted, bloodied, and beaten flesh.

Dustin wasn’t over yet. His point hadn’t been driven home, but I thought he’d leave. Instead, he dropped to his haunches next to me and pinched my chin as he yanked my head off the floor. “You fucking touch her again, you fucking come on to her again, and the beating you took will look like nothing compared to the one I’ll give her. Got it?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before he strode out of the room, going God knew where. I hoped it wasn’t to her. I didn’t doubt a word he said, and I was scared for her. Tears burned my eyes, caused not by the pain but from the thought of him hurting her. Because of me.

Something inside me snapped

I couldn’t stop caring about her just because her psychotic boyfriend told me I had to. I loved her, and that wouldn’t change. But I would leave her alone—for now. For her.

I could stop caring about him though. In that moment, he wasn’t my big brother anymore. He was a possessive boyfriend who viewed his girlfriend as nothing more than property, and he’d become unhinged and dangerous.

One day, I vowed, I would protect her from monsters like him. I forced myself off the floor, shuffled down the hall, up the stairs, and into my room, clutching my side. I tried not to take deep breaths and winced with each step. The pain made things clear.

Dustin may have shared my blood, but he’d declared war. I was just as much a Callaghan as he was. We didn’t take kindly to threats. We held grudges. And we always protected our own.

“Declan?” Gabby’s worry-filled voice broke through my flashback. “You’re scaring me.”

I blinked at her, half surprised that she was in front of me. Fucking Dusty—he’d been gone for twelve years, but his ghost was always there, just waiting for the chance to storm in and fuck shit up. I’d been serious the day before when I told her it was worse when she was around.

That didn’t mean I wanted her gone though. Jesus, I’d gotten to spend maybe four hours with her, and I was already addicted again. She was the piece of me that had been missing for years, even though I’d never wanted to admit that to myself.