BAD HABIT

CHARLEIGH ROSE
Copyright © 2017 by Charleigh Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any
form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in
critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.
Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs
Editor: Paige Maroney Smith

Green : unknown words

Yellow : made me laugh / happy moments
Blue : sad moments
Pink : phrases
Red : spicy moments
 DEDICATION

For Sara Burch, lover of jerks, collector of alphas.

I hope Asher does you proud.

And for Leigh Shen, & Ella Fox.

This book wouldn’t exist without you two.

Second chances are not given to make things right, but are given to prove
that we could be better even after we fall.
-Unknown
 CONTENTS

Soundtrack
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Confession/Story Time
Acknowledgments
Misbehaved by Charleigh Rose
Scandalous by L.J. Shen
 SOUNDTRACK

“Hoodie”—Hey Violet
“Unholy”—Hey Violet
“Eyes Closed”—Halsey
“Back to You”—Louis Tomlinson ft. Bebe Rexha
“Glycerine”—Bush
“RIP”—Olivia O’Brien
“Once Upon a Dream”—Lana Del Rey
“Ghost”—Halsey
“Haunting”—Halsey
“Do Re Mi”—Blackbear
“New American Classic”—Taking Back Sunday
“The Funeral”—Band of Horses
“The Boy Who Block His Own Shot”—Brand New
“Jesus Christ”—Brand New
“Walk the Line”—Halsey
 PROLOGUE

THREE YEARS AGO…

T he first time I laid eyes on Asher Kelley, drunk and bleeding, I

decided two things. The first being that he was the most beautiful
boy I’d ever seen in my entire life. I was sure of it. And the second
thing? He was the kind of boy that I should never, under any circumstances,
get involved with. But, even my pre-pubescent self knew on some level that
I’d gladly reach inside my own chest and offer him my beating heart if he’d
only ask. go girl
What I didn’t know then was that would be the first of many nights just
like that one. Turned out, Asher’s dad was a little bit of a drunk, and a lot of
an asshole. If it wasn’t his dad, it was some poor soul who decided to cross
Asher. He was always looking for trouble, it seemed. Or maybe trouble just
knew where to find him.
My brother, Dashiell, was always quick to kick me out of his room on the
nights Asher snuck in. It became routine to them. Just another Thursday
night. But seeing him tumble through my brother’s window never ceased to
break my heart and make it beat faster all at once.
Over the past three years, Asher has pretty much become a permanent
fixture in our lives. My parents are either oblivious or don’t care enough to
question why he’s always here, or why he occasionally dons a black eye or a
split lip. Part of me hates them for it. They’ve made their feelings on Asher
clear. They don’t like him hanging around, think he’s a bad influence. But
Dash is stubborn, and loyal to a fault. So, they tolerate Asher at best.
 I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor of Dash’s room playing Guitar Hero
on his Xbox when I hear the telltale tapping on the window that signals
Asher’s arrival, and I’m immediately uneasy. Dash was supposed to meet
Asher and their other friend, Adrian, at a party earlier. Alarm bells go off, and
I drop the guitar, scurrying over to the window on my knees. I help him slide
it open, and he hefts himself over the sill.
“Asher? What happened? Where’s Dash?” I reach for the lamp on Dash’s
bedside table, and when it illuminates his swollen, bloody face and T-shirt, I
gasp, my hand flying to my heart.
“Asher!” I run to his side and help him to the bed. He stumbles over the
laces of his untied combat boots, almost taking us both down.
“Oh my God, say something!” I panic, warring between getting my dad
or calling the police.
“Calm down.” He chuckles darkly. “You’re going to wake up your pops.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” I snap, before turning on my
heels. Someone needs to do something for once. And being a pretty powerful
attorney, my dad is someone who can actually help. I feel a hot hand grip my
wrist, and despite the circumstances, my already racing heart quickens at his
touch. same bestie

“Come on,” he says in a hushed, gravelly tone. “It’s just a little cut. You
should see what he looks like,” he tacks on with a hint of a smirk tugging at
his full lips.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask, trying to jerk my arm
out of his grasp, to no avail. “Because it doesn’t. Not even a little.” Tears
start to fill my eyes, and his own soften at the sight.
“I’m okay, Briar,” he promises, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Just
hang out with me for a while until Dash gets back.” Indecision swirls in my
gut, and I bite my lip, contemplating my next move.
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll be right back.” I tiptoe out into the kitchen, my bare
feet sticking to the hardwood floor. I grab a washcloth and run it under the
sink before snagging a bandage out of the cabinet. I’m no nurse, but it’s
better than nothing. When I come back to the room, Asher is sitting on the
bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands fixed on either side of his
neck. I drop to my knees in front of his spread ones and gently brush his dark
hair off his forehead. His eyes snap up to mine—one green with yellow
flecks, and the other a honey brown with flecks of green. He swallows, his
OH MY FUCKING GOD
throat bobbing with the motion. I avert my eyes and bring the damp
 washcloth up to dab at the dried blood crusted near his eyebrow. He clenches
his jaw, but says nothing as I do my best to clean him up.
“Where’s my brother?” I question, if only to distract myself from his
close proximity. Up until recently, I’m fairly certain Asher has only ever seen
me as an annoying little sister. Lately, things have been…different. Like all
the air is sucked out of the room when we’re in it. And I can’t help but
wonder how no one else feels it when it’s suffocating me.
We’ve had a few almost moments. I thought he might even kiss me once.
I was walking out of the bathroom in my towel, and there he was, waiting on
the opposite wall with his arms crossed. His eyes raked down my damp body,
my long, blonde hair dripping water onto my pink toes, leaving a puddle at
my feet. His nostrils flared. I squeezed my towel tighter, and he moved
toward me. He extended his arm, and I could feel the heat of his skin at my
hip, even through my towel. I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes. Then…
nothing. I opened my eyes to see that aloof smirk back in place, his face mere
inches from mine. His hand gripped the doorknob I was standing in front of.
“I need to take a piss,” he said, moving past me. I swallowed my
son of a bitch!!!!!!!

embarrassment, rolled my eyes at myself for thinking he might actually kiss

me, and scurried back to my room, leaving him chuckling behind me. so he likes playing games
huh?
“He’s at the party,” he says, bringing me back from the past. I feel my
cheeks heat from the lingering mortification of that day.
“I never made it there,” he clarifies. “I just thought I’d chill here for a
while.” He doesn’t elaborate, but I know what he means. Until he cools off.
Until the alcohol catches up with his piece of shit dad, and he finally passes
out.
Rising on my knees, I blow on the gash above his eyebrow to dry it off a
little before applying the Band-Aid. His eyes squeeze shut, and one hand
comes up to grip the back of my bare thigh. I freeze, feeling that tightening
low in my stomach that only seems to happen when Asher is near.
“It doesn’t look that bad now,” I say quietly, reaching forward to pluck
the Band-Aid off the bed next to him. I feel his thumb rub small circles on the
back of my thigh, and I try not to gasp. Crazily, I wonder what that hand
would feel like between my legs. I shake that thought from my head and
smooth the bandage over his cut with my thumbs.
“Head wounds tend to look a lot worse than they really are,” Asher says,
clearing his throat and pulling away. I back up, still dazed, as he stands and
reaches behind his neck to pull his blood-speckled white tee off his back
before balling it up and tossing it to the floor. I think he’s going to take one
of Dash’s shirts, but he doesn’t. He plops back down on the bed, exhaling
roughly, running a hand through his hair. I gulp watching the way his
forearms flex with the motion, and when he lies back on the bed, displaying
the muscles on his stomach, I have to look away.
He’s always been magnificent to me, with his onyx hair that hangs in his
dark, mismatched eyes. His full lips and slightly pointed nose. The dimples
that I didn’t even know existed for an entire year into knowing him, because
the boy never really smiles. Smirks, yes. Taunting, mocking, sarcastic grins.
But a full-blown Asher Kelley smile is rarer than a blue moon. Now that his
shoulders are broader, his chest and arms bigger, and his jaw more chiseled…
he’s a man. And he’s perfection. Suddenly, I’m all too aware of my small
breasts that visibly harden beneath my tank top and my tiny baby pink sleep
shorts. I’m looking every bit of fourteen, feeling so inferior kneeling in front
of this young god.
Asher scrubs a hand down his face, and I notice that his knuckles are
bloody, too, but the sight is nothing new.
“Do you want ice?” I ask as I stand up, gesturing toward his hands.
“What, this?” he asks, examining his knuckles. “I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to go?” I fidget with the hem of my shorts. His eyes
follow the movement, then move up my body until his eyes lock on mine. oh boy .
“No.” His tone is firm, but he doesn’t elaborate. My stomach flips with
nerves, and I nod, biting on the corner of my lip.
“Do you…want to watch a movie?”
A shrug. “Sure.”
“What do you want to watch?”
“You pick.”
I look around for Dash’s remote before finding it underneath a sock and
start flipping through the channels. I stand in front of the TV awkwardly, not
knowing if I should take my spot on the floor or join him. Asher pats the bed
next to him, seeming to sense my hesitation.
“I won’t bite, Bry.” he could do it to me if he wants tho. hahahha
I sit next to him and settle on one of my favorite movies. No matter how
many times I’ve seen it, I always have to watch it when it’s on.
“Really? Tombstone?” Asher cracks a real smile at that.
“Hell yes. It’s my favorite.”
“I’ll be your huckleberry,” he says, quoting the movie.
 “Shut up.” I give a weak smile, still feeling helpless in this situation, but I
toss a pillow at him in an effort to appear unfazed. he is in hurt bry
“Shit!” he growls, bringing his hands up to his face. no way hhahahahah
“Oh my God! I’m an idiot! I’m so sorry!” I say, crawling over to his side
of the bed, feeling terrible for already forgetting.
“Are you okay?” I ask, prying his hands away, but when I do, he’s
laughing. AWWWWWWWWWWW
W
“Jerk,” I huff, turning away, but he grasps my wrists and flips me onto
my back. His body hovers over mine.
“I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “But you were looking at
me like my dog just died. I had to do something to lighten the mood.”
He still has my hands pinned above my head, and he’s close enough that I
can smell his spearmint gum and the faint trace of cigarettes.
“I worry about you,” I admit, not making any effort to escape. His eyes
clench shut, like it physically pains him to hear those words.
“Don’t,” he says. “The last thing an angel like you should be doing is
worrying about a fuck-up like me.” SEND HELP.
“You’re not a fuck-up. And I’m no angel.”
Asher drops his forehead, rolling it against my own.
“You are,” he insists, his lips trailing from my cheek down to my ear,
leaving goose bumps in their wake. “And this is the last fucking thing I
should be doing with you.”
“What are you doing with me?” I whisper. OK IM DONE
“Touching you,” he says, rubbing my wrists with his thumbs. A small
noise slips from my mouth, and he lowers his body onto mine. Instinctively,
my legs part to make room for him. He groans once he fits his hips between
them.
“I need to leave,” he says, his voice thick and strained.
I lick my lips, mustering up all the courage I can when I ask, “Can I kiss
you?”
He makes a pained noise, but he doesn’t deny me. He presses his lips to
FUCK the skin just beneath my ear, then he trails his lips back across my cheek,
YESSSS
SSSS down to my chin, and finally, his mouth is on mine. I’ve kissed a few boys,
even though Dashiell, Asher, and Adrian, have done their best to run them
off, but this is so much more than just a kiss. At least, for me it is.
Asher licks the seam of my lips before tugging the bottom one into his
mouth. He sweeps his tongue inside, and tentatively, mine flicks out to tangle
 with his. I don’t know what I’m doing, but he must like it, because his hips
flex, grinding into me. I feel him harden beneath his jeans, and I spread my
legs further, wanting more, more, more. I pull my hands out of his grasp and
bring one to the back of his neck, kissing him harder. The friction between
my legs is something I’ve never experienced, and I don’t think anything
could stop me from chasing this feeling. I feel it building, much more intense
than anything I’ve ever done alone in the privacy of my bedroom. I wrap my
legs around his back and rock into him, uncaring of seeming too eager.
shut up asshole“Fuck. Stop,” he rasps. I don’t.
“Briar, that’s enough,” he says, pinning my hands to the bed once again,
this time using his demanding tone that brooks no argument. But I don’t
listen. I tilt my hips up again, and he groans. Before I know what’s
happening, I’m flipped over onto my stomach, my arms trapped at my sides
by his knees as he straddles me.
“You’re fucking fourteen, Briar. I’m not even in high school anymore, for
fuck’s sake.”
“I don’t care,” I say stubbornly. “I’m old enough to know what I want.”
My hair is in my face, muffling my words. He brings a finger to my cheek
and sweeps the strands behind my ear.
“You have no idea what you want,” he counters. “What you’re asking
for.”
His condescending tone makes me feel childish and inferior, and if it
wasn’t for the fact that I could feel his want for me digging into my backside,
I’d probably feel hurt, embarrassed, and rejected. In a brazen move, I arch my
backside and move against him.
“So, show me,” I say, looking over my shoulder at him. His eyes are
fixed on my pajama shorts that have ridden up, exposing my cheeks.
“No,” he says harshly. I drop my face into the mattress. God, my
brother’s mattress. I’d tell him to take me to my room if I thought for one
second he wouldn’t come to his senses and put a stop to this—whatever this
is.
He shoves off me, horrified, and sits as far away from me as Dash’s
queen bed will allow. “Fuck!” he yells, tugging at his hair. Seeing him like
this is enough to make me feel guilty, but not enough to regret anything.
“Why, Asher?” I ask, tears brimming my eyes. “What is so wrong with
me?” you are fucking fourteen little
lady.
When he doesn’t respond, I turn to leave, but Asher lunges for me,
snatching my wrist and pulling me back toward him until I’m straddling his
lap.
“Briar,” he says, his eyes searching mine, begging me to understand.
“Say what you mean and mean what you say, Ash. I’m not a mind
reader.” at least you are conscious of
fourteen,” he stresses, as if that’s reason enough. And I suppose
“You’rethat
it is. But this thing feels bigger than our ages. He’s not some predator. He’s
just…Asher.
“Not to mention, my best friend’s little sister. Do you know what I’d do if
someone even looked at my little sister sideways?”
“You don’t have a sister,” I point out. “And it’s different,” I insist. I’m
not like other girls my age, and I want this. My friend Sophie still plays with
Barbies—when no one is looking, of course—and loves One Direction. I like
this. This feeling with Asher, right here, right now. what do you mean by that? YOU HAVE LOUIS ON
YOUR PLAYLIST LITTLE BITCH
“It’s not. It makes me sick,” he starts, his warm hands smoothing up my
back. “It’s not right.”
I push his shoulders, causing him to fall backward, and boldly, I lean
down and press my lips to his. At first, he doesn’t react. He simply lies back,
allowing me to explore, to kiss and nibble and suck with his hands clenched
at his sides. But when he feels my tongue against his lips, seeking entrance,
his hands fly to my waist, and he kisses me back. This time it isn’t timid or
polite. This kiss feels like war. A battle between right and wrong. Moral and
corrupt. Honorable and deplorable.
Asher slides his right hand into my hair and positions us so that we’re
both lying on our sides as he continues his assault on my mouth, on my soul.
He shifts his body until his leg is wedged between mine, and I can’t help but
chase that glorious friction once again. A moan slips free, and I feel him
stiffen like he’s about to deny me again. I bring my hands to his cheeks to
keep his lips on mine and rock into his thigh.
“Please, Ash. Touch me,” I beg.
“No.”
“Then let me touch you.” I reach for the bulge in his jeans, and he smacks
my hand away. HAHHAHAAHA she can't even control herself.
“Fuck no. It can’t go any further than this.”
I could cry tears of disappointment right now.
“Look at me,” he orders, hooking a finger under my chin. “Keep your
hands to yourself. If you go for my cock again, I’m gone. Understand?”
 I nod eagerly in agreement.
“Goddammit, give me words, Briar.”
“I promise. Just make me feel…that.” I feel my face burn with
embarrassment, and the corner of his mouth twitches, like maybe he’d be
amused if he weren’t on the verge of jumping over a line that should never be
crossed.
Asher plants each of my hands on his shoulders and gives me a searing
gaze, silently ordering me to keep them there. I swallow and give a sharp
nod, and he places his own hands flat on the mattress by his head, purposely
not touching. I press my lips to his, and he reluctantly kisses me back. I start
rocking into his leg, powerless to this feeling. Once I find my rhythm, he
clasps his hands behind his neck, watching my body move. Seeing him lying
back like a king while I grind into his thigh is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen
in my life.
“Oh my God.” My voice is just above a whisper.
I press myself into him even harder. The new angle has my eyes snapping
shut and my head flying back. My movements are becoming sloppy and
jerky, and I know I’m close to something epic. Life-changing even. I hear
Asher shifting again, but I don’t dare open my eyes. I can feel my wetness
leak through my shorts, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if
that’s normal. But Asher doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t
mind. i mean, she is fourteen she doesn't even know how to cook an egg properly.
I’m climbing higher, higher, higher, when I feel something hot and
slightly damp wrap around my nipple. My eyes shoot open to see Asher
drawing the tiny bud into his mouth through my tank top. And just like that, I
come apart. He holds me in place through my orgasm as he continues to suck
until I’m shuddering and shaking in his arms.
I’m practically panting as he uses his palm to brush the sweaty hair off
my face and leans in to kiss the damp skin of my neck.
THANK “Thank you,” I say dumbly. Because what else can I say after that?
YOU?????!!!!!!!!!!!!
!! “I’m going to hell.” you just bought your VIP ticket, honey
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” I say honestly, laying my head on his
shoulder, feeling so content that I could fall asleep and stay here forever.
“You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. I did. You don’t understand it now.
But you will look back at this some day and see it for what it is.”
“And what is that, exactly?” I ask, feeling my temper rising.
“A man who just took advantage of a fucking child,” he spits, looking up
 at the vaulted ceiling.
“That’s bullshit. Don’t do that.”
“Do what, Bry? It’s the truth.”
“Don’t act as if I didn’t practically throw myself at you. That I’m too
young to make my own decisions. You didn’t take advantage of me. You
didn’t take anything. You gave.”
“The only thing I gave you is false hope. You know this can’t ever leave
he is rightly right.
this room. If Dash knew…”
“Why would I tell my brother about hooking up with anyone? I know this
doesn’t make you my boyfriend. I’m not that naïve. But maybe when I’m
eighteen…”
you think?? “This shouldn’t have happened,” Asher says, grabbing me by my hips and

lifting me off him. He stands and reaches for one of Dash’s T-shirts lying on
top of his dresser. “It’s wrong,” he says once again.
“Yes, Asher, tell me again how wrong I am for you. I don’t think you’ve
gotten your point across.” I roll my eyes, sarcasm dripping from every word.
He pulls the plain black shirt over his head, and I watch his muscles flex
with the movement. I gulp. Asher’s growl has my eyes snapping back up to
his.
“Stop looking at me like that, Briar,” he warns, his voice lethal and low.
“Like what?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Like you want what I can’t give you.”
“The only thing I want is for you to stay.”
“I have to tell you something,” he says, changing the subject.
“What is it?” And why does it feel like he’s about to end our nonexistent
relationship?
“I got a scholarship,” he says, his mouth twitching at the corner in an
almost-smile. “A full ride.”
“Are you serious?” I squeal, my frustration from a minute ago all but
gone. I’m more excited for him than I’ve been about anything in my entire
life. I knew he was applying, but he told me it was impossible for swimmers
to get a full ride. “That’s amazing, Ash!”
I throw my arms around his neck, but there’s nothing sexual about it this
time. Just genuine pride and happiness for him. Ash is one of the best people
I know, and he deserves an opportunity to live a life as good as he is. I pull
back, scanning his face. He’s not easily excitable, but I expected more
enthusiasm than this.
 “What is it? What else aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s in Georgia.”
For the second time tonight, I feel like that time I fell on the playground
in the fourth grade and got the wind knocked out of me. “What?”
“I leave in four months.”
I nod, caught between two warring emotions. I’m elated for him, but I’m
sad for me. He untangles our limbs and sits on the edge of the bed, resting his
elbows on his knees, avoiding eye contact.
“Does Dash know?”
“Yes.” He looks over at me, and his eyes soften at his admission.
He never even bothered to tell me.
“I’m happy for you,” I say, my voice contradicting the words coming out
of my mouth. “This is your chance.”
He nods, and we sit in strained silence, unsure of where to go from here.
I try to hold back the tears. To be a good friend and be happy for him, but
my chin starts to wobble, and one, single tear runs down my cheek. Asher is
in front of me in an instant, gripping my face with both hands, forcing me to
look into his eyes.
“Don’t waste one fucking tear on me.”
I sniff and look away.
“Dash is losing his best friend. And so will I.”
“I’m not leaving tomorrow, or next week. We have time.”
“Promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you won’t leave without saying goodbye. Promise me I
won’t be blindsided.”
“I promise,” he swears.
I nod, feeling slightly pacified. I want nothing more than for Asher to get
the hell out of there, but selfishly, right now I can only think about losing
him.
“When you leave…”
Asher watches me, waiting. “Yeah?”
“It won’t be forever, right?”
“I can’t promise you that.” shit.
“You really need to work on this whole ‘comforting someone’ thing.
You’re really bad at it,” I say, pulling back to look up at him. Ash is at least
six feet tall, and I have to strain my neck to make eye contact when we’re this
 close.
“I’ve never had to do it before.”
“Why does it feel like we’re saying hello and goodbye all at the same
time?” After years of tugging at his sleeve and following him like a lost
puppy, I’ve finally gotten Asher’s attention in the way I’ve always wanted.
But I’m not naïve enough to think that this could end well.
“Because once I leave, you’re going to forget this night ever happened.”
I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the movement.
“But you’re still here now, so…” I rise onto my tiptoes, circling my arms
around his neck. Asher grips my waist and lifts. My legs automatically wrap
around him.
“For once in my goddamn life, I’m trying to be the good guy, and you’re
not making it easy.” oh please, you don't want to be the good guy
“I like you better when you’re bad.”
Something not unlike a growl is all I hear in response before his lips are
on mine once again. Ash walks us over to the wall next to the window, still
holding me by my ass. When my back hits the wall, his hands are free to
roam. He smooths them up the outsides of my thighs and then either side of
my waist. I hold on to his shoulders to keep from melting into a puddle at his
feet as I feel it building again, and my hips shift in search of the friction I
need, when I hear it.
Giggling. Feminine, annoying giggling.
“Shut the fuck up! You’re going to wake my parents,” says a familiar,
albeit irritated voice. hhhahhahh this can't be
“Fuck,” Ash whispers,
real. dropping me like a sack of potatoes, right before
NO PUEDE SER Whitley, Asher’s ex, appears in the window. She lands in a pile at my feet,

and she smells like alcohol and cheap perfume. When she notices me, her
face morphs into one of total and utter disdain.
Dash climbs through after her—his preferred method of entry when he
has a girl with him—and looks between us. It’s not exactly suspicion I detect
on his face, but confusion. I feel the need to straighten my shirt or tame my
hair, but I’m frozen, afraid of doing anything that will display my guilt.
“What’s going on?” he asks, concern coating his tone. they almost fucked, nothing serious.
“A little help here!” Whitley slurs in her high-pitched, dolphin sonar
voice. Dash rolls his eyes, reaching down to help her to her feet.
“She was looking for you. Wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Dash
explains. “Figured you’d be here when we didn’t see your truck at yours.”
 “I was just, uh, helping Asher with something,” I say. Dash reads the
meaning of my words, and his head jerks toward Ash, assessing.
“You okay, man?” he asks, keeping it vague since Whitley is here.
“I’m good,” is all he says, and the two share a look that even I can’t
decode.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Whit?” His tone is harsh, but hearing
him call her by her nickname reminds me of the fact that they were close
once. what makes you say that? they were just A COUPLE.
“We need to talk,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“The fuck we do,” Asher snaps. “Go home.”
“I can’t!” she protests, and I fight the urge to cover my ears. She’s always
so loud. “I didn’t drive.”
“Jesus Christ,” Asher says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Go wait for
me in my truck. I’ll take you home.” Whitley wastes no time, probably
knowing that he’d rescind the offer if she pushed her luck.
“Which is it this time? You pick a fight with some random asshole, or is
RUDE.
your dad drunk again?” Dash asks once we hear the car door slam shut.
“The latter.”
“Does he look like you?” He gestures to his bloody appearance.
A devious smirk lifts the corner of his lips. “Worse.”
“Good,” Dash says solemnly. He hates this just as much as I do. It’s the
most helpless feeling in the world, standing by and watching something so
awful happen to someone you care deeply for, and not being able to do a
damn thing about it. As much as I hate the thought of him leaving, I feel so
much relief in knowing that there’s now an end in sight. “Call me tomorrow.
I gotta take a piss.”
The moment my brother is out the door, Asher’s guilt-ridden eyes dart
over to mine. “This was a mistake.”
“Bullshit,” I argue, moving toward him.
“Don’t,” he says, backing away, and I die inside, just a little.
And before I can pick my stupid, naïve heart up off the floor and form a
response, he’s gone.
 CHAPTER 1

BRIAR

“A re you sure this is a good idea, Briar? Maybe you should just
come with us.” Mom tries for the tenth time today as she
checks her lipstick in the hall mirror. I roll my eyes.
how convenient
“I’ll be fine, Mom. You guys are moving to California, not Egypt.” Dad
decided to merge with some new hotshot firm in Southern California. Vale
and Associates is now The Law Offices of Vale and Pierce. I talked them into
letting me stay here with Dash. Not without monthly visits and weekly
FaceTime sessions, of course. Dash is a year away from getting his
bachelor’s degree from The University of Arizona instead of Harvard next
year, much to our father’s dismay. He agreed to come home and stay with me
for the summer instead of staying in Tucson, contingent on my parents not
being there.
“I’m serious. You call me the second you change your mind. Do you hear
me?”
“Yes, Mother.” My relationship with my parents is a weird one. We love
each other, but we’ve never been particularly close. My brother’s relationship
with them is another story. It’s much more strained than mine. It’s alwaysthat's why
been Dash and me against the world. He’s always my best friend, brother,you want to
fuck his best
and protector all rolled into one. After he left for college, we inevitablyfriend, right?
drifted apart, but whenever he visited, it was as if no time had passed.
Mom moves on to lecture Dash about the weight of his responsibilities,
and I walk outside to say goodbye to my dad. He doesn’t do emotions, so I
 maryam's CLAIMING
run up to the driver’s side of his brand-new Range Rover and pop a quick
kiss on his cheek.
“Good luck out there, Dad. Drive safely.”
He grunts, but his eyes are soft. “Ditto.”
After Mom is settled in the car, Dash comes up to stand next to me on the
sidewalk, resting his elbow on top of my head. We stay and watch until their
taillights fade into the distance, and then we make our way back inside.
“Did that really happen?” I laugh. My parents are control freaks. They’re
distant and uninterested, but control freaks nonetheless. My mom is probably
more nervous about what might happen to her house without her here, rather
than her kids. JSJAJJKJAJAJAJAJJAJSJXJJS
D
“You’re definitely the favorite. There’s no fucking way they would have
let me stay behind when I was seventeen.”
“That’s because they know you’d have had the cops called in two point
five seconds and would live off nothing but beer and pizza.” Twenty-one-
year-old Dashiell can get a little rowdy, but seventeen-year-old Dash? Let’s
just say that being young and having an unlimited supply of money was not a
good combination for someone like him.
“Touché. So, what are you doing tonight?”
I shrug. “Nat wants to hang out with some friends. Some end-of-the-year
party.” Natalia Rossi is one of the best people I know. She’s hilarious,
outspoken, ridiculously beautiful, and fiercely loyal. I met her in dance class
on the first day of sophomore year when she was horrified to learn that she’d
been given the elective. She annoyed the dance instructor until she let her
withdraw, claiming there must have been some mistake. She ended up
switching electives, but when I saw that I had her in my next class, I decided
we needed to be friends, and the rest is history.
“All right, I’m heading out, too. Lock up when you leave. Don’t call me
unless you’re dying.”
Rumors of my brother’s sexual proclivities are widely known, but I’ve
managed to stay ignorant to the details. But it’s his first weekend back from
college, so it’s not hard to figure out what he’ll be up to tonight.
“Noted.”
I run upstairs to hop into the shower. I throw my hair into a messy bun on
the top of my head to keep it dry, then run a razor over my legs and quickly
wash up. When I walk back into my bedroom, I’m not even a little surprised
to see Nat. She’s making herself at home, sitting cross-legged on my floor,
using my makeup in front of the full-length mirror that hangs off the back of
one of my closet doors.
“Get dressed, bitch. We’re going to The Tracks,” she says, waggling her
brows before applying another coat of mascara. My heart jumps in my chest,
both scared and excited. The old trotting track was abandoned in the 1960s
and hasn’t been touched since. It’s said to be haunted, so, naturally, that’s
where you can find the cool kids on any given Friday night. A frisson of both
fear and excitement sweeps through me at the thought of being there. I’ve
never ventured inside, but Asher brought me there once.
“Can you take me somewhere?” I asked on the verge of tears. Everyone
was fighting. Dashiell was fighting with my parents, and my parents were
fighting with each other. I was so sick of the yelling. Asher had been here
when the argument about Dash’s choice of college started, once again, and
we were both hiding upstairs, avoiding them like the plague.
“You know I can’t do that,” he said, looking up at me from his spot at my
brother’s desk as he looked up music videos online. “Your parents already
hate me.”
“I don’t care,” I stressed. “I just need to get out of here. Anywhere.
Where do you go when you need to get away?”
His eyes lock onto mine. “Here.” he is cute tho
“That’s helpful,” I said, fighting an eye roll.
“There is one other place,” he admitted. “But I don’t know if it’s your
kind of place.”
“Anywhere but here is my kind of place,” I said, grabbing my phone and
making my way over to climb out of the window. I wasn’t normally
rebellious, but I knew my parents wouldn’t notice I was gone. They’d argue
with Dash until they were blue in the face, then they’d have a cocktail and
stay in their room for the rest of the night, like every other time they had this
fight.
“Wait,” Ash said, pulling me back inside, and at first, I thought he was
going to stop me. Instead, he surprised me by saying, “Let me go first.” yep, he is super
cute
He jumped down and held his arms out to help me down after him. It
wasn’t a far jump, being a single-story house, but I landed on a rock and
rolled my ankle. He caught me under the arms before I went down, and we
both stood there awkwardly for a minute or ten, our chests touching, neither
one wanting to pull away. Ash swiped a thumb underneath my eye to wipe
away a stray tear, and my eyes fluttered shut, loving the feeling of his skin on
 mine.
Finally, Ash cleared his throat and backed away. I smothered my smile
and followed him to the old, beat-up GMC Sierra that he spent his entire
summer last year working to buy. It was older than me. Red with a thick,
white stripe. The interior was this ridiculous red velvet, and it smelled like
cigarettes, but I loved it. And so did he.
We sat in silence as he drove. I didn’t know where we were going, but I
was just happy to be anywhere with him. When we pulled up to our
destination, I was just as clueless. It was this massive building in the middle
of nowhere. It was pitch-black, and I couldn’t make out any distinguishing
characteristics that gave away what it was. Asher drove right up to the fence
and cut the engine.
“Where are we?” I asked, leaning on the dash and scanning the
foreboding building in front of us.
“The Tracks,” he explained. “Horse racing. It’s been closed down for
years.”
“Are we going in?” I asked, gripping the metal door handle. It screeched
as I pulled, but Asher grabbed my left hand that sat on the bench seat,
stopping me.
“No. It’s not safe inside.”
“But you go inside?”
“That’s different. We can sit on the hood if you want.”
I bit my lip and nodded. What started as an escape now sort of felt like a
no way first date. I mean, I’d never been on a date before, but it felt a whole lot like
what I’d imagined it would, even down to the boy I’d imagined it being with.
Asher effortlessly hopped onto the hood while I climbed up, using the
bumper. I sat next to him, hugging my knees while he opted to lie back
against the windshield with one arm behind his head.
“You can’t see the stars in the city,” he said quietly. I lay back next to
him and gazed up into the star-filled sky.
“You’re right,” I said, lying stock-still next to him. The hood of the truck
was hot on my exposed thighs. Our hands were just centimeters from each
other, not quite touching.
My phone buzzed with a text, and I checked it on the off chance it was
Dash or my mom wondering where I was. It ended up being a text from a girl
from school, so I ignored it, setting the phone on my stomach.
Ash reached over, and I held my breath as his fingers brushed against the
 thin material of my tank top to grab my phone. My entire body prickled with
goose bumps, and I hoped he couldn’t see my nipples harden beneath my
shirt.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.
he likes music,
“We need music,” he answered simply. After a few clicks, it started. A
green flag haunting song about love and dysfunction and heartbreak. A song about the
right love at the wrong time. I decided right then and there, it was my new
favorite.
“What is this song called?”
“‘Glycerine’ by Bush. It’s the one song I’ll never get sick of.”
“I love it,” I whispered. It was raw, beautiful.
After asking him to play it for me again, we lay in comfortable silence
once more. Halfway through the third time, I felt his pinky finger graze mine.
My pulse sped up, and I tried not to move while I wondered if it was on
purpose. As casually as I could, I turned my palm skyward, waiting to see
what he’d do. I couldn’t breathe as Asher laced his much-larger fingers with
mine.
I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I was too afraid to move in fear of
ruining this moment. His thumb rubbed against mine, and I squeezed a little
bit tighter.
“What does your name mean?” he asked out of nowhere. Ash wasn’t one
for small talk, so the question took me by surprise.
“It’s a type of bush,” I said anticlimactically, and he rubbed at his mouth
with his other hand to hide his smile. “But my name is from Sleeping
Beauty,” I explained. “Princess Aurora’s real name is Briar Rose.”
“Your parents don’t strike me as Disney fans,” he deadpanned, and I
laughed because it was true.
“I guess my mom was once upon a time.”
“But you do look like a princess,” he teased. se muere **
“Tell me about your mom?” I asked after a beat of silence. He inhaled
deeply, returning his gaze to the stars. “Her name was Isabel. She came from
a wealthy family, but she met my dad and got pregnant with me shortly after.
She was beautiful. And she gave good hugs. She beat me at every video game
we ever played.”
I laughed, never having expected that.
“She died saving me,” he explained, wiping the lingering smile clear off
my face. “I had been working on a ramp for my bike all day. I decided to try
it out in front of my house. We never had a lot of traffic, so I didn’t think
anything of it.”
I held my breath, knowing where the story was going.
“My mom pulled into the driveway with a trunk full of groceries. She
waved and smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. I was frustrated because I
couldn’t land this trick. I tried over and over, with my headphones blasting in
my ears. Each time, I got sloppier and hit the jump harder. On the last try, I
don’t know what happened, but it sent me flying. I landed right in the middle
of the street. I didn’t hear it coming, but I saw the car, a big, white Dodge
Durango. I couldn’t move quickly enough. I hurt my leg so I couldn’t stand
up. I saw the car try to swerve, and then I saw my mom rushing toward me. I
remember her dark hair blowing behind her as she ran. For some reason,
that’s what stood out the most. She was able to push me out of the way in
time, but the car hit her instead.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, brushing a tear away. Because what else
could you say to something like that? That’s a kid’s worst nightmare.
“My dad blamed me. I blamed me. And that’s when everything changed.”
“You were just a kid, Ash. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, and I knew he didn’t believe it.
“I think I would have liked her,” I said, referring to his mom. “She
sounds like the opposite of mine.”
“She would’ve loved you.”
One green eye and one brown with flecks of gold met my blues, and
something passed between us that I didn’t understand, but I felt it
nonetheless. I licked my lips, and his gaze followed the movement. I thought,
once again, that he might just kiss me. My phone buzzed violently against the
metal hood, making me jump. Asher blew out a breath and ran a hand
through his hair.
“We need to go,” he said, jumping down and climbing back in the
driver’s side.
“Yeah,” I said and cleared the lust from my voice. “I should get back.”
And the moment was gone.

“S ooo, are you in? Bry?” Nat asks, snapping me back to the present.
That night was just weeks before the night he told me about his
scholarship. The night he left for good.
 “Who’s all going?” I interrupt her primping when I open one of the
French doors to my closet that she’s sitting in front of and slip inside.
Dropping my towel, I snag my H&M black cropped top off the hanger, a pair
of frayed jean shorts, and my plain black combat boots. I quickly dress as I
listen to Nat’s never-ending list of attendees. well, she knows how to
dress
“Jay for sure. I think Steven and his girlfriend with bad eyebrows…
What’s her name? Melissa? Anyway, Thomas, Trey, Lexi… Oh, and Jackson
will be there, too.”
“Seriously?” I ask, cutting my eyes to hers. Jackson Price is arguably the
hottest guy in school. The only guy to pique my interest even moderately,
other than Asher Kelley. And the only guy I’ve ever slept with. I’ve hooked
up with plenty of guys, but as soon as it moved from anything more than
heavy petting, it was like a record screeched, and it wasn’t fun anymore. I
had a change of heart, mid-hookup, every single time. PERO TIENE?
NO SON CATORCE QUE TU

Jackson happened a couple of months ago, and Nat dragged me to a party

at his house. Part of me was still holding on to my childish delusions of being
with Ash someday, when Whitley came bouncing in, blowing that to pieces.
She was standing there all tall and dark and edgy, the complete opposite
of everything I am, bragging about sleeping with Asher over the weekend. Of
course, she wasn’t telling me. She was talking to a girl named Marjorie—
loudly, for my benefit, no doubt—with no shortage of crude gestures and the
hickies to back it up. she is fourteen for god's sake!!!!
I remember exactly how I felt in that moment. The way the beer turned
sour in my stomach. The way my chest ached and the way my face heated
with anger, embarrassment, and jealousy. I remember how I let Jackson,
whom I barely knew, lead me upstairs and take my virginity. I remember how
I wanted to give it to him, if only to spite Asher. I remember his practiced
movements and the pain he caused, even as he tried to be gentle. I remember
how even though I hated myself for it, I could almost pretend it was Asher if
I kept my eyes squeezed tight. But mostly, I remember how I felt the next
morning. Empty and completely alone, even with Jackson’s arm curled
around me, and every bit the child that Asher always accused me of being.
I’m that girl, the one who got drunk at a party and gave it up to the first
boy who came along. And I’ve avoided him ever since. What would Asher
think of me now? Even thinking his name is enough to cause physical pain,
but I bury it. It’s been three years. Three years since he walked out of my
house and never came back. Three years since I’ve so much as heard his
SOOOOOOOOO she is seventeen now??
voice. Three years since I’ve been pining for a boy who was never even
mine. This is bordering on pathetic.
“He wants you, Bry. I don’t know how he could make it any clearer.” Nat
fluffs her dark hair and stands, giving herself a once-over in the mirror. “I’d
fuck me,” she says with a nod of approval. I roll my eyes, but a laugh slips
out.
“Why, though?” I muse aloud. There is no shortage of high school girls
who want to hook up with Jackson Price. Or college girls, for that matter. He
set his sights on me, seemingly out of nowhere last year. He’s gorgeous,
funny, charismatic, but…a bit of a whore. el burro hablando de oreja.
“Besides that whole innocent, blonde, blow-up doll look you’ve got going
on?” She circles a finger in my direction and grins when I flip her off. With
my freakishly big eyes and pouty mouth, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that
comparison. She knows I hate it. “Give him a chance. You don’t have to
marry the dude. Just…have fun. With his penis.” JAJAJJAJAJA
“You’re an idiot.” I laugh. She has a point, though. I need to put Asher
out of my mind for good.
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling off the I-10 in my little black Jetta.
We’re only about twenty miles from my house, but it’s like a different world
out here. No streetlights, no noise, no gas stations on every corner. Just a
long, eerie, dirt road that leads to the old trotting park. BOBO
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m driving.” I shrug.
“You’re nervous,” she accuses.
“You wish.”
I pull up next to a few other cars and trucks I don’t recognize and kill the
engine. Without so much as a word, Nat hands me the chapstick she just used
at the same time I hand her some gum from my purse after popping a piece
into my mouth. I rub my lips together and hand her the tube when a loud
banging on my window causes me to jolt.
“Jesus!” Nat yells—while I make some noise that comes out as more of a
squeak than anything—and cackling from outside my car follows. I open the
car door to see Brett and Jackson standing there with shit-eating grins
plastered to their faces, beers in hand.
“For you, Briar, my lady,” Jackson says, offering me a can with a
dramatic bow. I’m still catching my breath and trying to calm my frantic
heart, but I take the beer anyway as I glare at him.
 JAJAJAJJA LOVE HER

“You guys are dicks,” Nat mumbles, accepting her own beer from Brett.
“Who do all these cars belong to?” I stuff my phone into my back pocket
and leave my keys in the ignition in case we need to make a quick getaway.
Local cops are starting to catch onto the growing fascination with this place,
and I heard they’ve been patrolling the area more than they usually do.
“A couple belong to our group, but I’m not sure about the rest. Guess we
had the same idea.”
“No better way to celebrate the end of school than to hang out in an old,
emocion!!!
decrepit building. Yay,” I say, weakly pumping a fist into the air, sarcasm
dripping from every word. I’m surprised Jackson deigned this place an
acceptable hangout. I wouldn’t think he’d be caught dead here.
Nat saunters over to me and hooks an arm though mine as we start to
walk toward The Tracks. “Don’t be a pussy.”
As we get closer, I notice a huge gate surrounding the perimeter of the
building. I reach the entrance and tug on the padlock.
“Guess they’re cracking down.”
“That’s always locked. This way, amateur,” Jackson says, peeling back a
break in the chain link fence. “Everyone else is already inside. We just came
out to get you guys.”
Nat giggles, totally getting off on this creepy shit, skips over to where
he’s crouched, and slips through the hole. I hand my beer to Brett and follow
her, but my belt loop gets stuck on a rogue piece of metal protruding from the
fence. A warm hand lands on the small of my back, and my head snaps
around.
“You’re stuck,” Jackson smirks and gives an innocent shrug. I’m on my
knees, halfway through the fence with my ass on display, but Jackson holds
my gaze as he reaches to free my belt loop with his fingertip. I wonder if he’s
thinking of that night. Does he regret it? Does he know I do? Not that it was
his fault. I was on a mission to self-destruct that night, and I was lucky I
ended up with someone halfway decent.
“Thanks.” I’m not really sure what to say, or how to feel. I have a
tendency to overanalyze things, so it’s probably best that I don’t try to
decipher anything just yet. I stand up and brush the dirt off my knees and
tighten the mess on my head. Brett passes me my beer and shoves his way
through while Jackson opts to scale the fence like a fucking ninja. He lands in
front of my feet, looking smug as hell, and I arch a brow in return.
“Am I supposed to be impressed or something?”
 lmao

“Only if you don’t want to wound my precious ego,” Jackson says,

clapping a hand to his heart dramatically. He really is gorgeous—in that all-
American, golden boy way—with his light brown hair, high cheekbones, and
strong jaw. He’s tall and broad and clearly doesn’t take himself too seriously.
Maybe I misjudged him.
As we all approach the massive, formidable building, nerves and
excitement tangle in my stomach, and the baby hairs stand up on the back of
my neck. The hot August air is suffocating, and a bead of sweat rolls down
the small of my back. I head for the rusty, decayed turnstile, but stop short
when I notice the razor wire coiled in the old entrance. Jackson hooks an arm
around my shoulders and jerks his head to the right with that Ken-doll smile.
He leads us to a different gate, this one with vertical bars. At first, I’m
confused as to why we’re going this way, but then I notice that one of the
bars has been pried apart, leaving enough room to squeeze through. Razor
wire and double fences…makes you wonder what happened here and why
they’re so determined to keep people out. I THINK SO.
Before I can ask how we’re getting inside the building, Brett darts toward
a ditch with steep walls. He skids down the sides like he’s surfing on
concrete, and Nat—never one to give a shit about consequences—downs her
beer, then slides down on her butt after him.
“Nuh-uh.” I shake my head when Jackson looks to me expectantly.
“Mhm.” He grins.
“Nope. No fucking way. I’m wearing shorts!”
“I guess I’ll just have to carry you then.”
“You wouldn’t.” I call his bluff, backing away slowly.
Nat yells something along the lines of, “Just do it, you stupid jock!”
before slipping through the gap and disappearing into the abandoned
building.
Jackson charges for me and I screech, losing my grip on my beer when he
drops a shoulder and scoops me up over it. One arm bands around the back of
my thighs, and he chuckles when I grip his waist for dear life. I know what’s
coming next. Jackson effortlessly skids down the side of the ditch, his white
Nikes crunching over the loose dirt and gravel.
“Don’t mess up your pretty shoes, golden boy.”
“Brave words from a girl who’s at my mercy.”
Instead of putting me down, he carries me inside the narrow opening. I’m
hanging upside down, and that, coupled with the fact that it’s dark as hell,
makes it hard to see much except beer cans littering the concrete floor and an
endless amount of graffiti splashed on every surface. I hear muffled voices
and laughter, so I know we’re getting closer.
“You can put me down now,” I say, using my hands against his lower
back as leverage to swing myself upwards. But Jackson’s grip on my thighs
only tightens.
THE FUCK
“Why would I do that when I have such a nice view?” He smacks my ass,
and a laugh tumbles from my lips. I don’t even know if I like Jackson, but it
feels…liberating. Like I’m finally starting to break free of the curse Asher
unknowingly cast upon me the day he left. Or maybe it was the day he landed
at my feet on my brother’s bedroom floor. But my freedom is short-lived,
because mid-laugh, I hear an all-too familiar voice.
“What the fuck.”
Dash. He’s here? Jackson finally sets me on my feet, and I right myself
just in time to see my brother storming toward us, looking positively
murderous. NO WAY THIS IS HAPPENING!!
“What are you doing here?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear, aiming
for casual.
“You wanna tell me why you just had your hands all over my baby
sister’s ass?” Dash asks, ignoring my question, shooting daggers at Jackson
over my head.
“Whoa, dude. You have a sister?” Jackson throws his hands up in
surrender. “I swear I didn’t know.”
I scrunch my nose at that. Everyone knows Dash, and I mean everyone. In
fact, I’m known as “Dash’s little sister” to most people. But why would he
lie?
“You didn’t know, or you didn’t realize I’d be here?” IM DONE. LMAOO
Jackson’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer. I feel like I’m in the
twilight zone. Dash is protective, in the way that every big brother is, but
this? This reaction is completely foreign to me.
“Dash, I told you I was going out with friends. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you didn’t mention him.”
“We’re just hanging out,” Jackson tries, but Dash cuts his eyes to his, and
Jackson wisely shuts up.
“You. Keep your hands to yourself. And you,” Dash says, turning his
attention to me, “be smart.”
Dash turns and heads back to his group of friends on the other side of the
dark, dank basement. The air seems to shift, and I hold my breath, somehow
aware that something big is about to happen. My eyes follow Dash in slow
motion, and my heart sinks like a ton of bricks when I lock eyes with him.
Asher fucking Kelley. LO SABIA EL DIABLO Y SU MADRE JAJAJJAJJAJA ETA TIPA NO PEGA UNA
Asher stands there, unmoving. Adrian and their friends are laughing and
talking all around him, but he’s zeroed in on me. I hear Jackson whisper-
yelling at Brett for not warning him that my brother would be here, but it’s all
that I can do to focus on the important stuff, like standing upright and
breathing. I can barely make out his face in the dark, with only glow sticks
haphazardly tossed around for light, but I know it’s him. I can feel it. I can
feel him. And more than that, I can feel the rage floating off him in waves.
But what does he have to be angry about? He’s the one who left me. Lovesick
and lonesome. If anyone’s allowed to be upset here, it’s me. nobody "left you" asshole
I force myself to turn my back on him, already feeling the loss. I don’t
want him to know he can still get to me. I don’t even know if he remembers
that night. Asher pretty much stayed drunk back then, and I can’t help but
wonder if that’s changed.
Nat’s face is suddenly in my line of vision, and I do my best to blink
away thoughts of Asher.
“I think I just came,” she breathes, fanning herself. “When did your
brother get all hot and…growly?”
“Apparently, it’s a new development,” I say bitterly. Jackson and Brett
finish their little lover’s quarrel and come stand next to us.
“I’m sorry,” I start. “I have no idea why he’s even here.”
“It’s all good,” Jackson says, running a hand through his perfect teen-
heartthrob hair, flashing a cocky grin.
“I don’t know what his deal is,” I admit distractedly, because my brain is
still stuck on Asher. Why is he here? Where did he go? What happened? Why
is he looking at me like that? I lost my first love and my best friend that
night. I never thought I’d see him again, and now he’s here, hanging out with
my brother like nothing ever happened. His dad served time soon after he
left, but he got out after less than a year, and he’s been rotting in that god-
forsaken house ever since.
“Earth to Briar?” Nat pulls me from my chaotic thoughts once again.
“Okay, I sent the boys to get us drinks. Spill.” I take a quick glance around
and confirm that Jackson and Brett are, in fact, nowhere to be seen.
“What do you mean?” I usually tell Nat everything. And I mean
everything. But I can’t have this conversation. Not here, and not now.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just try to play dumb. I know something
is bothering you, and I have a feeling it’s not the fact that your brother just
cockblocked you.”
“He’s here,” I say, widening my eyes for emphasis.
“Who?” Nat immediately scans the building, her eyebrows pinched
together in confusion.
“Him.”
“Asher?!” she whisper-yells, and I send a pointy elbow into her side.
“Ow! He’s not fucking Voldemort. You can say his name.”
“Say it a little louder. Please,” I deadpan. Jackson and Brett are walking
toward us now, a six pack of beer in tow. “Okay, they’re back. Don’t say
anything. And don’t make this weird. Please.” Nat makes the “cross my
heart” gesture before turning her attention to the guys. Super reassuring.
“Try holding on to this one this time, butterfingers,” Jackson quips, and I
accept the beer, downing the entire thing in one gulp.
Jackson whistles and a few people cheer, while Nat gives me the “Oh,
honey…” look. I glance up to see Dash making his way over, concern
tugging at his expression. Asher’s face becomes visible as he steps out of the
shadows, but he does nothing but glare as he walks toward me. This is
literally the last thing I need in my life right now. Asher, Dash, and I in the
same room for the first time in three years. Dash still has no idea what
happened that night, and even though I’m dying to confront Asher, it has to
stay that way. For everyone’s sake.
I look to Nat, wordlessly pleading with my eyes for her to do something,
anything to break the tension. She gives me an almost imperceptible nod,
letting me know she understands.
God, I love her. me too
“Soooo,” she singsongs, climbing onto an old upside-down paint bucket
with a devious look in her eyes. “Who wants to go exploring?”
Phones and flashlights are whipped out, and Adrian and Dash take the
lead, Natalia hot on their heels. Asher hangs back, not making a move, as
everyone else follows suit. Our eyes connect, and I wait for him to reveal
some hint of the boy I grew up with, but there’s nothing. Nothing except
contempt, and maybe even disgust. I rub my arms, suddenly feeling cold and
insecure under his icy glare, even in the stifling heat. oh goddammit
I turn my back on him and catch up to our group, digging my phone out
 si soy
of my back pocket to use for light, but my battery is at five percent. Shit. I
tuck my phone back into my jeans. I’ll have to make sure to stick close to
everyone without my own light.
This place is seriously creepy. Graffiti covers every surface, and
everything is in shambles. We pass what must have been the bathroom, full
of crushed porcelain and crumbling concrete before entering another big,
open room.
“Look,” I say, snagging Nat’s phone from her hand and shining it above
us to illuminate what’s left of the signage. “Pot pie, Salisbury steak, burgers,
and coleslaw… We must be in the old kitchen.” We were standing where the
food lines were, and each one had a different sign. It’s fascinating to me that
this place is in ruins, but some things, like the menus and even some old light
fixtures, have been well-preserved.
“Guys, over here,” Dash says, sounding far away. I follow his voice and
find him standing on the old grandstand that overlooks the dirt area where the
track once was. As I get closer, I hear crunching with every step and look
down to find—
“Is that…?” I ask, lifting a foot.AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
“Bird shit.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I jerk my head at the sound of Asher’s voice. It’s deeper than I remember,
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
and it cuts right through me. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact
that I’ve been missing that voice for three years, and the first words he says
JAJAJAJAJ
TOY MALA to me are bird shit. I shake my head and trek through the piles of mummified
poop and stand in the open air, trying to make out the stables through the
glassless windows, to no avail.
“I wonder what happened to the windows,” I muse aloud. They run the
entire length of the grandstand, and every single frame is empty.
“They blew them up in that Charlie Sheen movie,” my brother offers. “I
saw it on YouTube.”
“Yeah, and killed thousands of pigeons in the process. Pissed PETA off
real good,” Asher adds. I feel my eyebrows pull together as I try to decipher
his tone. He isn’t amused, nor does he seem particularly saddened by the fact.
Just…cold ambivalence.
“That’s disgusting,” Nat says, tiptoeing toward us—like that’s somehow
going to help her avoid the droppings—with her nose scrunched up like she
just smelled something foul.
“That’s sad,” I argue. finally we agree on something
 que gracioso
“Why, because you weren’t there to give them a funeral?” Asher says
snidely.
When I was eleven, I found a dead pigeon on our lawn. The bright,
crimson blood coming out of its eye a stark contrast to the light gray feathers.
We were coming home from Dash and Asher’s swim meet, and I cried and
begged my mom to let me give it a proper burial. She screamed about it being
full of diseases, ordered me to stay away, and called my dad to dispose of it.
By the time my dad got home, he said the bird was gone. Later that night,
when Asher snuck into my brother’s window, he whispered into my ear not AWWWW
to worry. He’d buried it near a bush in our yard. Sure enough, the next day I
saw the little mound of dirt and expressed my gratitude, but still thought
something was missing. It was so plain. So sad. Everyone deserves to be
buried by something pretty, I’d told him. Even a stupid pigeon. He laughed,
the way he always did when he thought I was being a bleeding heart, and
plucked a big, purple succulent, also known as a desert rose. The colors were
beautiful. The middle was made up of a vibrant purple and faded into a
lighter shade. Succulents weren’t your typical funeral flower, but I couldn’t
have loved them more. “Is that better?” he said as he squatted down to place
the flower atop the dirt, ever so carefully. Almost tenderly.
I remember thinking how surprising it was to see this gorgeous, rough-
around-the-edges bad boy doing anything with such care, much less tending
to a flying rat. Correction: a dead flying rat. That was one of the first things
that drew me to him. I knew it was just a bird, but I cried all night thinking
about it, unable to get the image of its bloody eye out of my head. And
Asher… He knew it bothered me. He’d listened. And he’d fixed it. Clearly,
that Asher is not here today.
Dashiell’s eyes dart between the two of us, no doubt wondering what
could’ve possibly caused tension between us already. I look down, afraid my
guilty eyes will give us away. Asher scoffs and walks off. Dash shoots a look
to Nat, and she holds her hands up in mock confusion before following suit.
“He’s been through some shit, Bry.”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “Okay.”
“He’ll come around.” directo donde duele
“If you say so. When did he get back?” I can’t help myself from asking.
“Couple of weeks ago?” he guesses, running a hand over the top of his
sandy blond hair.
“Oh.”
 I don’t know why that feels like a punch straight to my gut, but it does.
He’s been here for weeks—plural—and he hasn’t come to see me. Not once.
“Why are you guys here, anyway?” I ask. I know they didn’t come to
hang out with a bunch of high school kids.
“I really don’t know. Asher asked me to meet him here, and then your
friends showed up.”
He had plans with Ash, and he kept them from me.
“I would’ve told you sooner…” he trails off, looking uncomfortable, and
I know more is coming.
“But?”
“But, he asked me not to tell you.” WHAT? duele, arde
Okay. Ouch. That hurts more than it should. I feel tears starting to well
up, and I hate that I’m still affected. I’ve shed enough tears for Asher Kelley
over the years. I vow to myself, right here and right now, that these are the
last ones. yeah, i don't think so dash
“Look, I know you guys were close, too. He was like a brother to you.”
I cringe at his word choice. I’ve felt a lot of things toward Asher, but
sibling love was never one of them.
“I just don’t get why he wouldn’t want me to know.” The night he left
was perfect…until it wasn’t. It was as if a switch went off, and I have no idea
what tripped it.
“I don’t think he wanted anyone to know, really.” Dash shrugs. “He
hasn’t told me much, but I know the past three years weren’t exactly fun.” mierda
My chest aches at the thought of anything bad touching Asher. He’s had
too much of it in his life. Throughout the years, whenever he got a raw deal—
whether it was a misunderstanding or plain old shitty luck—he never
complained. Not once. He simply accepted every negative thing life threw at
him. More than accepted it, he expected it. Like he thought he deserved it.
And it broke my heart.
“Come on. Let’s get back.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to hide the hurt, and we head back to our
friends. Nat curls her fingers around my hand and gives it a squeeze without
saying a word, and we all explore some more. When we come up to a
decrepit escalator, I have to stop and stare. It’s the creepiest, most fascinating
thing I’ve ever seen. No one realizes I’ve stopped, so they keep moving, but
there’s something about this escalator that has me rooted to this spot.
I pull out my phone. Four percent battery. If I’m lucky, I can get a picture
or two before it dies. I back up, taking in the missing stairs and gutted
handrails with metal protruding like curled ribbons. I lean over the ledge, just
a little, to get a better angle, and snap a photo. I survey the picture, and it’s
too dark to make out. I lean a little further, hoping for enough battery life to
use the flash one more time, and snap another.
“Don’t fall.”
I jerk at the cold, taunting words rumbled near my ear and pitch forward.
Instead of falling to my death, I’m yanked back by a fist closed around the
back of my shirt. I stumble before righting myself, and I attempt to calm my
erratic heart. My chest heaves, and Asher’s eyes follow the movement for a
fraction of a second before the apathetic mask falls back into place. Those
green and brown eyes appear even darker, and the shadows cling to his
features, making him look like some sort of otherworldly creature.
For long moments, we stare. Him with his hands in his pockets, me with
one hand on my chest, still catching my breath, but both of us unspeaking. I
open my mouth to say something, anything, like maybe why the hell did you
just almost kill me? Or why did you leave us? But the words are stuck in my
throat. Realizing that I’m not going to be the one to break the silence, Asher
gives me a derisive laugh before shaking his head and prowling off. I really
hate the sight of his back walking away from me.

“O kay, so tell me about that night again. Don’t leave anything out,”
Nat says from the driver’s seat of my car. After my encounter with
Asher, I practically dragged her out of the building, leaving Jackson and
Brett’s drunken protests behind us. I was feeling a little lightheaded myself—
from chugging that beer, or being near Asher again, I still don’t know—so I
asked Nat to drive.
“I’ve told you this a million times.” I sigh, reclining my seat all the way
back. I stick my hand out of the backseat window, feeling the hot, summer
wind whip against it. “I threw myself at him. He was into it for a minute.
Then, Dash and Whitley showed up before anything else could happen.” Not
that it would’ve happened anyway, much to my fourteen-year-old self’s
dismay. “He basically told me we made a mistake, gave Whitley a ride home,
and I never saw him or heard from him again. Until now. He didn’t even end
up taking the scholarship. I checked.” WAIT WHAT
“Hmm,” Nat says thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against the leather
steering wheel. “I mean, obviously, he was running away from whatever he
was feeling for you. But to disappear for three years? That’s a little extreme,
even for him.”
I snort at that. There’s no way I had anything to do with his vanishing act.
I’d have to mean something to him for that to happen, and the past three
years have proven otherwise.
“There’s no point attempting to figure Asher out. You’ll only hurt your
brain trying.” I would know. Asher’s always played his cards close to his
chest, never letting anyone in on the thoughts and feelings within.
We pull into the long driveway leading up to our ranch-style house, then
Nat throws the car into park.
“All right, I’m out. I have to help my mom set up for an event tomorrow,
so I promised I’d be home early.”
“Boo. Call me after.”
After Nat takes off in her little red sports car, I make my way toward the
house, then tiredly stab the code into the keypad at our front door. Too lazy to
go to my room on the other side of the house, I steal Dash’s charger from the
kitchen counter and plant myself onto the couch in the media room. It’s fluffy
and huge and could sleep ten people at least. This is my preferred room in the
house. I throw in my favorite movie—the one I love to hate and hate to love
since it reminds me of that night. Tombstone. ay por dios
I can’t focus on the screen. The events of tonight and the ones of three
years ago play in my head on repeat, searching for something, anything, that
will fill in the missing pieces. I keep coming back to the same two questions.
What made him leave? And what brought him back? the answer for both of them is "YOU"
Before long, I drift to sleep with images of Asher’s hardened expression
in my mind.
“Don’t fall…”
Someone should’ve warned me not to fall years ago. YEAH RIGHT HHAHAHAJJA
 CHAPTER 2

ASHER

“A re you sure, man?” I ask for the third time since Dash insisted
I stay with him as we walk into his house. Being here again is
the last thing I thought would happen tonight. Ever since I
got back into town, I’ve managed to avoid this place like the fucking plague.
This house and the people in it were the only good part about my life growing
up. But after the younger Vale sibling betrayed me in the worst way, I lost
that, too. QUE Y QUE TE HIZO BRY??????
I stopped by my old house exactly once. I was greeted by my father in an
alcohol-induced slumber in his old, tattered recliner. A cigarette dangled from
his fingertips, dangerously close to burning the house down. I walked out
before he even knew I was there.
“I told you, my parents are living in SoCal now. It’s just Briar and me,
and you know she won’t mind.”
I wouldn’t be so sure about that. me neither
I’m a bastard for what I did that night—for what I thought about doing
every night for months before then. I know this. But I also don’t plan to come
clean any time soon. Briar fucked me over real good. Maybe that’s what I
deserved for hooking up with my best friend’s little sister, but either way, I’ll
never make that mistake again. And as far as I’m concerned, Briar Vale is
nothing more than a bad memory. you didn't think like that when she was riding you pal
I shouldn’t fucking stay here. I should keep paying eighty-eight bucks at
the roach-infested motel down the street. I should go kick my pops’ old dying
ass out of the house and stay there. I should do anything but stay in this house
again. Yet, here I am, sharing space with my old best friend and his little
backstabbing sister. Because I’m a goddamn masochist.
After digging myself out of the mess Briar got me into, I made a life for
myself. I met some good people—a guy named Dare who took me under his
wing. I worked on roofs with him during the summer and did snow removal
in the winter. Eventually, he finally took the plunge and opened up the tattoo
shop he’d been talking about for years, so I unofficially took over the roofing
business. I’d put Cactus Heights—and everyone in it—behind me in
exchange for four seasons and hard work.
I swore I’d never come back. There was nothing left for me here, with a
deceased mother and a father who only saw me as the reason she died. Then,
I got the call that my dad was in the hospital. Liver failure. I didn’t know
what I expected to feel. Maybe nothing at all. Surprisingly, I felt a twinge
of…something. Something I still haven’t identified. Guilt? Fuck that. I’m not
the one who drank to the point of trying to provoke my kid into a fistfight and
blacking out—in that order—night after night. Obligation? Probably.
I’m stuck in my own thoughts as I follow Dash down the lit pathway
leading up to the house, when something colorful catches my eye. The sight
of those damn succulents—the one with the fleshy purple and bluish leaves—
has a bitter laugh slipping out of my mouth. If I’d only known how alike
Briar and those pointy-tipped succulents were back then. Both deceptively
beautiful and innocent, but full of hidden, dangerous needles when given a
closer look.
Once we’re inside the house, the smell hits me like a ton of bricks—like
cinnamon and fresh laundry—and I pinch the bridge of my nose to fight off
the onslaught of buried memories that rush to the surface. Memories of a
young Briar tending to my wounds with her usually plump lips flattened into
a hard line and her eyebrows creased with concern. Memories of stealing her
first kiss in Dash’s room and hating myself for it afterward. Memories of
having dinner with the whole family and staring at a piece of corn on the cob
like it was from another planet. My family had corn out of a can. I didn’t
know what to do with that shit. Briar noticed my hesitation, reached over and
grabbed the corn, breaking off the leaves and silky strands. She disposed of
them before handing my plate back with a soft smile. She didn’t make a big
production out of it, and I doubt anyone else even noticed. But that was Briar
for you. A tiny little girl with a heart too goddamn big for her body. But then
 she grew up to be just like the rest of the entitled assholes of Cactus Heights,
Arizona.
“You can take the media room. I’d offer you my parents’ bed, but, that’s
fucking gross,” Dash says, shuddering. “And the guest rooms are more of an
office and an exercise room, so they don’t have any furniture.”
“That’s cool with me. Anything’s better than the bed at the motel.” I
didn’t come from a life of luxury. I don’t need the finer things in life, but that
shit was grimy as hell and I had at least six springs jabbing into me at any
given time during the night. I’d gladly take their cushy couch. If it was the
same one from when I was around, it’s more comfortable than anything I’ve
ever owned.
We toss a few back in the kitchen, catching up, but not really going into
detail of the past couple of years. It’s the elephant in the room, but I’m not
ready for that talk. He’s not ready. Not for the reality of what happened and
where I went. Not for finding out that his precious baby sister was the reason
for it all.
I didn’t say a word when I left, not to Briar and not to Dash. At first, I
wasn’t sure if he was in on it, too. Once I was able to think rationally, I
realized that Dash probably had nothing to do with it. He would’ve tried to
fight me if he knew about Briar and me.
Briar was like this little naïve angel. Always trying to help everyone and
fix everything. She felt everyone’s pain as if it were her own. I couldn’t fault
her for that, even if I didn’t understand it. In fact, I envied her ability to feel
so much, when I could barely feel at all. Not unless she was around, anyway.
Briar loved with her whole heart. And somehow, she thought someone like
me was worthy of being on the receiving end of that love. I don’t mean
tu no hiciste romantic love. She was just a kid. But in the way you love your family, or a
nada para stray dog, more accurately in my case. DONT THINK SO
impedirlo
tampoco But for what she did that night? All because she had a bruised ego? That,
I could fault her for. And I’ll continue to do so.
It all happened because of a kiss...
“I can see your wheels spinning, Kelley. I don’t know what the fuck
happened, and I’m not gonna lie and say that I wasn’t pissed that you left
without saying shit. You crushed my sister,” Dash starts, and my eyes snap to
his. What the fuck?
he wasn't “You were like another brother to her,” he continues, and I exhale in
relief as I realize he still doesn’t know anything. “When I was too busy
fucking off and getting laid, you were here, hanging out with her. She didn’t
handle it well when you left. She cried for weeks, man. Weeks.”
I can feel my anger rising with every word. She is the victim in all of this?
Give me a fucking break. If anything, it was her guilt keeping her awake. Not
my absence. I squeeze the bottle of IPA so tightly that my knuckles turn
white. But I don’t say a word.
“Anyway, my point is, I know some shit went down. But you’re my
brother. You’re always welcome here. And once you’re ready to talk about
where you went, I’m here.”
I give a short nod, acknowledging him, and down the rest of my beer.
“Appreciate it.” And I do. But I don’t have anything else to say right now.
“All right, I said my piece.” Dash tosses his empty bottle into the trash,
and it clanks against the others. “I’m going to pass out. You remember where
everything is?”
I tell him that I do—I practically lived here before—and he doesn’t waste
any time going to his room. I sit for another minute, collecting my thoughts,
trying to figure out exactly how I got here. I press the heel of my palms into
my eyes, suddenly exhausted.
I head toward the opposite side of the house and grab a throw blanket out
of the closet on the way. I pass Briar’s door and pause. She’s in there, right
now. Oblivious to my presence. I have the urge to take a peek. Just one, little NOOOO
peek. But I shake my head and continue to my temporary living quarters.
Once I get closer, I see the TV flickering, casting a light show on the walls.
The door is open, and right before I throw my blanket onto the couch, I see it.
A tiny blonde form curled up into a ball on her side.
Briar.
She’s still in her clothes from earlier. Her shorts have ridden up even
further, exposing her long, tanned legs. Her cheek is all smushed from resting
on her palm, making her look even younger, and her pouty lips are parted
slightly. She still looks like a goddamn angel—even in sleep—but she’s the
devil in disguise.
I didn’t expect to see her at The Tracks tonight. I used to go there when I
needed to be alone or to drink myself into oblivion. That’s what I planned to
do tonight. In a moment of temporary insanity, I called Dash to meet me. He
knew I was back and had been asking to hang out, but I kept blowing him off.
I figured The Tracks were neutral ground. I just didn’t know it had turned
into the chill spot for the whole damn high school.
 When that douchebag walked in with Briar slung over his shoulder and
his hand gripping her ass, I saw red. I don’t want her, but that doesn’t mean I
want anyone else to have her, either. I’ve never been very good at sharing.
Chalk it up to being an only child. SIRRRRR
I watched her for a few minutes before she noticed me. She was laughing
and talking with her friends. There was a sadness in her eyes that never used
to be there, and I wondered if that had anything to do with me.
Three years doesn’t seem like a long time, but it made a world of
difference for Briar. She has tits now, for one. Nice, perky handfuls and an
hourglass figure to match. She’s always been beautiful, but grown-up Briar is
straight-up lethal. gracias por la info, appreciate it
For some reason that I don’t even pretend to understand, I take a seat on
the opposite end of the L-shaped couch. I have a perfect view of her from
where I sit. I glance at the TV, and I almost laugh when I see what she was
watching. Tombstone. How this movie is anyone’s favorite, let alone a
teenage girl’s, I’ll never know.
I reach for the remote on the coffee table and start the DVD over again. I
don’t really watch the movie. I mostly watch her. She sleeps so peacefully.
Her chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm, softly snoring, and I realize
that I hate her in this moment. Why should she get to sleep so soundly after
what she did? I’ve had three years of sleepless nights.
I’m still sitting here stewing in my resentment when she starts to stir. She
hitches a leg up, exposing the bottom of her ass cheek, and stretches her arms
out with a yawn. I don’t make a move, blending into the darkness. She sits up
and blindly feels around for her phone. She glances at it and sets it back
down onto the table. She stands, her fingers going to her shorts, unbuttoning
them and letting them drop to the floor. The light from her phone illuminates
her, and I can make out the curve of her ass in a dark-colored thong. She tugs
her long, blonde hair out of her hair tie and it spills down to the middle of her
back in waves.
I want to wrap that golden hair around my fist and smash my lips into
hers. Make her pay for what she did as I fuck her punishingly from behind. ok this is
“My, my. You sure have grown.” getting spicy
 BRIAR
I wake up groggy and disoriented. The movie is playing, and I think to
myself how weird it is that it’s still going. I know I was past this part, and I
feel like I’ve been sleeping for a while. I check the time. Two A.M.
Suddenly, I’m all too aware of my too-tight shorts cutting into my hip. I
stand up and wrench them down, then let my heavy hair free from my
ponytail, fully intending on passing back out in here. But then a sense of
awareness prickles over my body from head to toe. Like I’m being watched. yes you are
It’s the same way I used to feel when I fantasized about Asher watching me
in bed or in the shower, even when I was too young to have those kinds of
thoughts. I shrug the feeling off. Asher just got back, and he’s already
fucking with my head. That’s all it is.
“My, my. You sure have grown.”
I yelp, just as a hand covers my mouth to muffle my screams.
RUDE JJAAJJJJJAJJ
“Shut the fuck up. You’re going to wake your brother,” the voice that I
now realize belongs to Asher says in a low growl.
“Good! What the hell are you doing here?” My traitorous heart is
slamming against my ribs as if trying to throw itself at Asher. Like it knows it
belongs to him. Not anymore. I take a step away from his shadowed figure.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m your new roommate, baby girl.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
No. No. What? IT IS BITCH
A
I’m already shaking my head. This isn’t possible. He doesn’t just get to
show back up after three years and invade my space. I’ve waited for this day.
God, I’ve fucking died waiting for this day to come. But this isn’t how I
imagined it. Not even a little bit. And, I’m not a lovesick kid anymore. At
least that’s what I tell myself.
Asher’s eyes drift down to my legs, and a smirk tugs at his lips,
reminding me that I’m standing here without pants. I sit down on the couch,
quickly snatching the blanket and pulling it over my lap.
“A little privacy?” I snap.
“Oh, look who grew a backbone along with those other…assets.” He
makes a show of scanning my body from head to toe, and my face heats with
embarrassment. I know why I’m bitter and angry, but where is his anger
coming from? Asher has always used his sharp tongue as a weapon, but I
wasn’t ever on the receiving end of it. In fact, I always got the impression
that he purposely shielded me from that side of him.
 Guess the kid gloves are off.
“What happened to you?” I say it more to myself, but he hears it, because
he balls his fists at his side and his eyes narrow.
“I don’t know, Briar. What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking!” I whisper-yell, bending over to
retrieve my discarded shorts and pulling them back over my legs under the
covers.
Asher shakes his head, and I get the feeling that I’ve disappointed him.
But that’s impossible. He’s been back for three whole seconds. I haven’t had
a chance to let him down.
“It’s late,” he finally says, his wall slamming back in place, more
impenetrable than Fort Knox. He plops down on the couch and crosses his
arms behind his head, like he owns the place. “Do you mind?” WHY IS THIS HOT??
“Unbelievable.” I bunch my blanket up in my arms with a huff and grab
the rest of my stuff. Too drained and confused to keep arguing, I take one last
searching look into those soulless eyes before turning around and leaving
without another word.

T he sun beats down on me through my window, and I smother my face

with a pillow, making a mental note to buy blackout curtains. I don’t
think I slept for more than a few minutes at a time. I tossed and turned all
night, alternating between irritation and concern for Asher. Once the initial
anger cooled, I started wondering what could’ve happened to cause the chill
in his demeanor.
Dash’s words from last night about Asher belatedly echo in my head.
Maybe I should’ve been more understanding. I still can’t believe he’s here. In
my house. Like nothing ever happened. But he’s not Ash. Not the one I used
to know.
My phone buzzes from my nightstand, and I pick it up to see a text from
my brother.
Dash: Asher’s staying here for a while. Just a heads-up.
A little late for that.
Me: Do Mom and Dad know?
Dash: No. And we’re going to keep it that way.
 Me: Don’t I get a say in this?
Dash: No. He’s family. He needs us, whether he wants to admit it or
not. but only for you

I sigh and roll out of bed, needing to at least make a coffee run before I
can have this conversation, but I decide that a shower is more important.
Shower first. Coffee later.
After stripping down, I snag the towel off the hook on the back of my
door, wrap it around me, and stumble my way down the hall. I’m rubbing the
sleep out of my eye with the palm of my hand when I twist the knob to the
bathroom door. It takes a second for my vision to adjust, but when it does, I
see Asher. Naked. Standing over the toilet with his left hand braced against
the wall, and his right hand… His right hand is wrapped around his length. HELP
I can’t look away. God, he looks so different now. He’s broader, taller,
more muscular. If I thought he looked like a man three years ago, he’s a god
now. My eyes are glued to the way he works himself, the veins in his arms,
the thickness of him. Something shiny catches my eye, and I gulp when I
realize it’s a piercing.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”
My wide eyes snap up to his, and I feel my ears heat with shame. His
challenging stare matches the unapologetic tone of his voice, and he
continues to pump his length. I can’t apologize. I can’t even form a response.
I’m unable to do anything but gawk at the sight before me. My teeth bite into
my bottom lip, and I feel my nipples harden against my towel. Asher grunts,
bringing my attention back to his face, and he’s staring right at my mouth.
“If you’re going to watch, lose the towel.” COMO DICES QUE DIJISTE?????????
Without thinking twice, I step inside the door and close it behind me. His
eyes widen, just a little, as if surprised that I’m playing along to his game
instead of running away. He’s not the only one. I don’t know why I’m still
diablo pero quierete
standing here. un chin
We’re both in some kind of trance. The only sounds are those of our
quickening breaths and the wet noises coming from his palm. I smell a
familiar scent of vanilla and fruit right before I spot my Pink Sugar Plum
conditioner on the granite sink next to him. His fist moves faster when he
sees that I notice.
“You’re going to smell like me.” I don’t know why those are the first
words that come to mind. Why does the thought of him using my conditioner
set a fire inside me? I’m not normal. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve
y ahora te das cuenta??????
 never experienced such an erotic moment, and he hasn’t even touched me. I
want to drop my towel and beg him to give me more of that feeling I only
ever got a taste of. The feeling that only he’s ever been able to give me. But I
won’t. I threw myself at him once, and I still haven’t recovered from the fall.
I refuse to be that girl, content to survive on whatever scraps of attention he
throws my way when it suits him.
Still, I can’t bring myself to look away—to walk away. I feel like he’s
daring me to see this through, and I have some need to prove to him that I’m
not a little girl anymore. The naïve Briar with stars in her eyes is long gone.
He made sure of that.
I try to discreetly press my legs together to smother the throbbing
between my thighs, but Asher notices. Of course, he does. His head falls back
slightly, like it’s too much effort to hold it up, but his eyes are still locked on
mine. Mine, however, start to wander. To his full lips and sharp jaw, his chest
that’s damp with sweat, the cut lines of his lower stomach, and finally, to
what’s in his hand, looking angry and impossibly hard. I notice his piercing
again, and ever the petulant child, wonder when he got it and how many other
girls have seen it. I hate all of them. THE HELL HACE CALOR
“Stop giving me that look before I give you something to pout about.”
I reach behind me to open the door and leave. I shouldn’t be here. This
shouldn’t be happening, especially not with my brother somewhere in the
house. But Asher shakes his head, pinning me in place. I immediately obey
his unspoken request without a second thought, and I mentally kick myself
for it.
Asher must literally get off on his control over me, because then he’s
coming in thick, white spurts into the toilet. His muscles tighten and his body
tenses, but he looks at me, still taunting, still daring me to look away with his
bored stare. GO GIIIIRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLL
I swallow hard, but instead of leaving, I put one shaky leg in front of the
other and force myself to walk right past him to the shower. Like what
happened was no big deal. Like I didn’t just watch Asher Kelley jerk himself
off. Like it wasn’t the most glorious thing I’ve ever witnessed.
Once I’m in, I toss my towel over the frosty glass door and turn the
YES BRY YOU ARE LEARNING
shower on. The hot water beats down on my chest, only intensifying the ache
between my legs. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for Asher to make his
move. Long seconds pass, and it feels more like hours, but then I hear the
toilet flush, and the door slams shut a moment later.
 What the hell just happened? you are in the game now gurl

M y stomach growls as I pretend to be doing something super important

on my laptop at Starbucks, reminding me that I didn’t have time to
scarf anything down earlier in my haste to get out of there. I’m hiding out,
because Natalia probably hasn’t even rolled out of bed yet, and I needed to be
somewhere other than my house.
After relieving the ache that Asher created in the shower, I threw on a
pair of holey jeans and a white tank top and slapped on some makeup, all the
while nervous that Asher was going to show his face again. He didn’t
thankfully, but I was still unnerved by what transpired in the bathroom. I
couldn’t focus on anything knowing he could be lurking around every corner
of the house, but he was nowhere to be found.
Even when my favorite barista, Matt, tried to make small talk, I was still
unable to focus on anything but the sight of naked Asher pleasuring himself
with my conditioner. And the way he looked at me, completely unaffected
and unapologetic.
Tossing my empty cup, I make my way toward the parking lot, skidding
to a stop when someone blocks my path, only to find Jackson smiling down
on me.
“Hey, what’s up? I didn’t get to say goodbye to you last night, and I tried
to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail.”
Oh my God. I forgot about Jackson. And I don’t mean about last night…
I mean, I literally forgot he existed. Ash’s been back in my life for less than
twenty-four hours, and, like a solar eclipse, he’s already casting his shadow
upon everything and everyone else. It’s exciting at first. You feel like you’re
and you're not mad about it
a part of something that doesn’t happen every day. And maybe you’re
tempted to stay in the shadows. But then you realize that you need the sun.
You can’t survive in darkness alone.
“Briar?” Jackson’s concerned hazel eyes assess me.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, my phone died. Sorry.”
“It’s cool.”
I give him a polite smile and move to step around him, but he stops me
with a hand on my shoulder.
 “Hey, so wait,” he says, dropping his hand and stuffing both into the
pockets of his jeans. “Let’s go out. Like, just the two of us.” I KNEW IT
“You mean, like a date?” I ask dumbly. No, Einstein, he wants to take you
to Bible study. Of course, he means a date. JAJAJAJJJAJJ DUMBASS
“Yeah, like a date,” he says with a cocky smile, probably mistaking my
preoccupation with Asher for shyness.
My gut instinct is to say no. But then, I realize that would be falling into
old patterns and letting Asher influence every decision I make. Not this time.
And I do like Jackson. I was even semi-interested before Ash came back.
There’s no reason I shouldn’t give him a chance. He’s fun and sweet and hot
as hell. What’s not to like? Plus, Asher has made it clear that there will never
be anything between us. Why shouldn’t I move on?
“Okay.” I shrug.
“Okay?” he asks, thrown off by my short response.
“Okay,” I say, firmer this time, and go to leave again. My stomach is
growling, and I need to call Natalia.
“When?” he shouts after me.
“Whenever!”
“I’ll pick you up tonight then. Six o’clock.”
Before I can open my mouth to object, or at least let him know that I’d
drive separately and meet him somewhere, he gives me one of his signature
smirks and saunters off.
I guess I have a date.

wao si que eres inteligente

I pull into my driveway after a long day of avoiding home. Nat was
working for her mom at her boutique, Lush, today, so I hung out there for
a while. We tried to talk, but it was an abnormally busy day, so I walked
around the other shops to kill some time.
My stomach does a flip when I see that Asher’s big, black truck is still in
the driveway. There’s a ladder on top of it, leading me to believe it’s a work
truck, but it’s nice. Really nice. He must be doing well for himself.
I’m immediately aware of his presence before I see him. I give a quick
wave to my brother—who’s sitting with Asher on the couch, drinking a beer
—and drop my keys onto the counter. I’m starving, so I walk straight to the
freezer to grab my favorite pizza.
I prop a hand on my hip and whirl around to find the two laughing like
idiots.
“I told you she’d notice, man,” Dash says, hiding his smile behind his
beer bottle.
“Sorry,” Asher deadpans in a way that says I’m not even a little sorry. His
dark hair is mussed up in that perfectly disheveled way only he can pull off,
and his full lips are coated in pizza grease. “I was hungry, and your pizza was
the only thing that sounded good.” JAJAAJJAJJAAJAJJA
He narrows his eyes at me, challenging
A me somehow, and licks his lips.
God, why does everything he says sound suggestive to me?
“It’s fine.” I shrug, feigning ambivalence. “I have a date tonight, so I
probably shouldn’t eat so close to dinnertime, anyway.” I swing open the
stainless steel fridge door, grab a yogurt instead, and walk off without daring
to look for his reaction, or lack thereof.
I don’t know why I said that. Just like in the bathroom this morning, I
guess I just wanted him to know that I’m not still pining after him. That life
moved on without him, and I’m all grown up now. yeah sure
After hiding out in my room for a couple of hours and calling Nat to fill
her in on everything, I finally decide to get ready for my “date”. I have no
idea where Jackson might be taking me, so I opt for a black jersey dress. It
has thin straps and dips low in the back, but it’s still casual enough to wear
with sneakers. I throw on a pair of black Vans and a choker that my mom
hates because she insists that it looks like something out of a fifty-cent
machine. I leave my hair down, and it falls in thick waves to my waist.
Checking my phone, I see a missed text from Jackson.
Pulling up to your house.
I check the time stamp on the text and realize that it was sent over five
minutes ago. I bounce down the steps and freeze when I see Jackson at my
opened door with Dash blocking his entrance with a wide stance and crossed
arms. I hear a chuckle, and my eyes snap over to Asher who is still sitting at
the couch, leaned back, with his long legs stretched out, looking more than a
little amused.
“You can stop now, Dashiell,” I say, rolling my eyes and coming to a stop
in front of them. Asher’s laugh morphs into a choking sound, and all three of
us turn to look at him with furrowed brows.
“Went down the wrong pipe,” he coughs, gesturing to his throat.
 “Karma.” I laugh.
“Desperate much?” he asks, pointing his beer bottle in my direction.
“What?” I snap. JJJAJJAJAJAJA NO LE TENIA MIEDO A NADA
“Your dress. It’s so short that I can practically see your asshole,” Asher
says, crude as always.
“Well, then, it should make it easier for you to kiss it.” GO GUUUUUUUURRRRRLLLL
“Whatever you say, Sugar Plum,” he taunts, referring to my conditioner.NO WAYYYYY
“We’re leaving,” I bite out, as heat crawls up my neck. I grab Jackson’s
arm and shut the door with more force than necessary before giving him an
apologetic smile. He waves me off, tells me I look pretty, and leads me to his
sleek charcoal gray Mercedes. And then we’re gone.
 CHAPTER 3

ASHER

I
JAAJJAJA HE IS MAD
flip my phone over on top of my thigh, checking the clock for what feels
like the fiftieth time in the past three minutes. Eleven twenty-eight.
Briar’s been gone for over five hours. What the fuck kind of dinner
takes five hours? When she first mentioned her plans, I almost laughed. She
wanted a reaction, so of course, I didn’t give her one. Her attempt at making
me jealous was comical.
But then the douchebag from last night showed up. I thought after Dash’s
warning, she’d stay away from him. He’s a couple of years younger than us,
but his older brother was in our grade. He was on the swim team, and he had
this list. It was more of a points system. Every girl was rated from one to one
hundred. The harder to get with, the bigger the score. I never took part, never
felt the need to brag when I got my dick wet. But the rumor is that Jackson is
carrying on big brother’s tradition and bringing it back. And now, he’s out
with Briar.
What I figured would take two hours tops turned into three, then four,
then five. I couldn’t exactly voice my concerns. I’d already fucked up earlier
by commenting on her choice of clothing, or lack thereof.
When I saw her come down those stairs, looking good enough to eat, I
choked on my fucking beer. Between that, my sudden shitty mood, and my
brand-new phone-checking compulsion, Dash had been eyeing me
suspiciously all damn night. What was I supposed to say? Sorry, man. Your
baby sister begged me to fuck her in your bed, then I left her. Oh yeah, and
then she ruined my fucking life.
Eventually, I told Dash I was going to sleep because I needed to look for
work in the morning. It’s not entirely untrue. I do need to do that, if I plan to
stay in town. But the real reason was that I needed time to dissect my
thoughts.
I’ve only been back for one day, and already, things are starting to blur.
The hatred was starting to wane. With her wide, innocent eyes and angelic
appearance, it’s hard to imagine that she’s capable of being vindictive. I need
to stay away from her. I look down to her fluffy, pale pink comforter and ball
it in my fist, messing up her perfectly made bed.
Tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, I’ll stay away from her. si si si
The quiet snick of the front door closing alerts me to her arrival. About
fucking time. I flatten myself against the wall behind her door right before
she opens it then gently nudges it shut with the back of her foot. She kicks off
her shoes and starts to pull her dress up to take it off. Standing with her back
to me in front of the moonlit window, I can make out her brand-new curves.
Her tight, round ass. The dimples on the small of her back. Her dress is just
past her hips when I speak.
“Have fun tonight?” JAJAJAJAJJA this man is the best.
Briar yelps and drops her dress back in place before spinning around.
“I was until I had some perv spy on me for the second time in as many
days.”
“Oh, I’m the pervert?” I taunt, moving closer. She wants to back away,
but she doesn’t. She stands her ground, and it only spurs me on. “Correct me
if I’m wrong, but I believe it was you who watched me jack off this
morning.”
I’m almost sad the lights aren’t on to see her inevitable blush. I’m
standing over her tiny form, and she has to crane her neck to look up at me.
“Momentary lapse in sanity.” She shrugs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen
before.”
Those words kick around in my head for a second before I practically
tackle her onto her bed. She lands on her back, mouth parted in shock, with
her legs spread and her dress ridden up. My hips fill the spot between her
thighs, and I pin her hands to the bed.
Fuck, this was a bad idea. She smells good—sweet, like her conditioner
—and she feels even better. I have to fight the urge to grind into her.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before, huh?”
 “No,” she says between clenched teeth.
“Who was it?” I demand. “Was it the little golden boy from tonight?”
“None of your business.” CALM FUCKING DOWN
“Tell me, Briar,” I whisper, getting
MISTER closer to her ear. “Did he make you
come from a kiss like I did? Does he know what you sound like as you do?
Because I can still hear you. I can still see you.”
If her sharp intake of breath didn’t let me know she was affected, the way
she rocked into my jean-covered cock does. I stay stock-still, still braced
above her with my hands around her wrists.
“Does he know that I was the first one to make this little body come
before you even knew how to do it yourself?” I bring her wrists closer
together so I can grip them both with one hand, and I trail my index finger
from her sternum all the way down to her underwear.
A moan slips free, and her hips chase the friction once more.
“No,” she whispers.
“No, what?”
“No to all of it.”
Briar manages to wiggle a hand free, and she uses it to pull me to her,
chest to chest. I can feel her perky little tits against me, and I want so fucking
PARAMELO
AHIIIIIIII badly to do what we couldn’t do three years ago. To feel her from the inside.
But then I remember what else happened the last night we were together like
this. And everything that unfolded afterward.
“Good,” I say simply, lifting myself off her before I do something I’ll
regret…like fuck the enemy.
Briar scrambles to clamp her legs shut and pull her dress back down her
thighs with an incredulous look plastered to that pretty face.
“Keep it that way.” I turn to leave, now that I have the upper hand, but
then that smart mouth of hers strikes again.
“Fuck you, Asher,” she spits, voice full of venom.
I grip the doorknob so hard I almost expect it to shatter in my hand.
“Fuck me?” I laugh bitterly. “You already fucked me, baby girl. And I
never even saw it coming.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AA

BRIAR
 “I’m a zombie. It’s official,” I complain to Nat, who’s gotten the tips of her
toes perched on the edge of the pool deck as she paints them a cherry red,
while I float on an oversized raft.
Nat snorts. “Maybe you should stop diddling your skittle to thoughts of
Asher all night.”
I kick my foot out to splash her, and she cusses when she flinches away
and paints her skin on accident.
If she only knew how right she was. Except it’s not just thoughts of Asher
keeping me up; it’s Asher himself. I haven’t seen him once today. I tossed
and turned all night long, playing his words back in my head until it was time
to wake up for school. “You already fucked me, baby girl.” I was too
preoccupied with the fact that Ash had just been between my legs to make
sense of the words at first, but now, it’s all I can think about. What did that
ay tu me quilla even mean? He’s the one who left. I’m the one who was wrecked.
When I finally accepted the fact that sleep wasn’t happening, I walked
around on eggshells while getting ready, afraid to run into Asher or Dash.
Asher, for obvious reasons. Dash, because he can read me better than anyone
else in this world, and I him. But, neither seemed to be awake.
The past few days must have caught up with me, because all the coffee in
the world couldn’t help me this morning, and it can’t help me now. As soon
as Nat got here, I changed into my suit and threw my hair into a high
ponytail. That was a couple of hours ago, and now the sun is starting to set.
“So, are you going to tell me how your date with Jackson went?” Nat
asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Meh.” I shrug, shifting my legs that stick to the plastic raft.
“Meh?” She stops painting her toes and props her chin on her knee to
look over at me. “That good, huh?”
“No, it wasn’t bad. It was good. He was nice.”
“Whoa, watch out. Good and nice? You better put a ring on it with those
adjectives.” JAJAJAJAJAJ
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. It was actually really fun.” Jackson took me to
this fondue restaurant. There was chocolate involved, so I can’t complain.
Afterward, he took me to see the Thor movie, which I also can’t complain
about. Because Thor. I had a better time than I thought I would, to be honest.
He was witty and charming and polite.THOR? green flag
“Are you going to see him again?” Nat asks skeptically.
“I’m not sure. If he asks.” Another shrug.
 “And you don’t think the return of he who shall not be named has
anything at all to do with your indifference?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, inspecting my nail beds
to avoid eye contact.
“Lying liar who lies.”
We both laugh, but we’re interrupted when Asher and Adrian, my
brother’s other best friend, come barreling out the patio door.
“Well, well, speak of the devil,” Nat drawls out in the worst fake
Southern accent I’ve ever heard in my life.
“Where’s my brother?” I ask, cutting a warning glare in Nat’s direction to
keep her mouth shut.
“Inside making food. Why? You need someone to rub you down with
some sunblock?” Adrian asks, taking a step in my direction, but Asher blocks
him with a stiff arm across the chest.
“What, bro?” he asks, feigning innocence. Returning his attention toward
me, he adds, “I’m just looking out for the baby sister. We don’t want that
pretty porcelain skin to burn, do we?”por que todos los amigos de ash son unos pendejos??
“I’m good.” I laugh, shaking my head.
Adrian makes a lot of noise, but he’s generally harmless. Growing up, it
was always my brother, Asher, and Adrian. The three drunken amigos who
basically owned the school and everyone in it. Dash and Adrian are the
charmers—the rich boys who fucked shit up with a smile on their faces—
while Asher ruled with a quiet authority. They may not be in high school
anymore, but they still run this town. JAJAJAJAJAJJA
Adrian is Mexican-American, or as he likes to call himself, a sexy Mexi.
He’s tall and gorgeous, with golden eyes and dimples for days. Everyone
loves him. It’s impossible not to.
“But really.” Adrian lowers his voice, smacking Ash’s hand away from
his chest. “I needed to talk to you guys about Saturday.”
Saturday is Dash’s birthday, and every year on the day before, we usually
have dinner with our parents at some fancy restaurant in which they end up
arguing before dessert. Then Dash and I bail and binge-watch movies all
night, with every type of junk food imaginable. His actual birthday, though,
belongs to friends. This year, my parents can’t make it, with my dad being
too busy with the merger. They offered to fly us out, but Dash insisted on
staying, using work as an excuse, when really, he just doesn’t want to go.
Thank God, because neither do I.
 “What’s up?” I slide my peach-colored, oversized sunglasses onto the top
of my head.
“We’re taking the pontoon and the Jet Skis out to the lake. It’s nothing
big, just a few of us hanging out, but it’s a surprise. You girls in?”
“I’m out,” Nat says dejectedly.
“What, why?” I ask, using my arm to paddle myself closer to the steps.
She loves going out on the lake, and we haven’t been in a long time.
“Uh, work,” she says, like the answer should have been obvious.
She acts like work is a burden sometimes, but, I think she secretly loves
it. She spends the majority of her time there, and when she’s not there, she’s
talking about it, dreaming up ways to improve it, or hunting for new trends.
“Boo,” I pout, stepping out of the pool. My eyes drift to Asher, who’s still
silent, standing with his arms crossed, as I grab my towel off the lounge
chair.
He makes a show out of looking me up and down from my head to my
toes before turning and prowling back inside.
Adrian just shrugs. “He probably needs food. You know he gets cranky
when he’s hungry.” JAJAJAJJAJA mister grunios
Yeah, and also when he’s awake, or, you know, breathing.
“See you in a couple of days?” he asks, one hand on the sliding door.
Before I can answer, Ash’s arm darts out and jerks him back into the
house by his T-shirt, Adrian’s laughter trailing behind them.
“So, we’re going to act like this isn’t a thing?” Nat asks, looking at me
from beneath her sunglasses.
“Yep.”
“Just checking.”
 CHAPTER 4

BRIAR

S aturday morning comes fast, and I haven’t seen Ash since the day at
the pool. He’s been making himself scarce lately, and I don’t know
what to make of it. Last night when Dash and I had our usual birthday
celebration, it took all I had in me not to press for answers. Answers to where
he’s been and what he’s been up to. I have three years of questions I need
answered. But, I managed to keep my mouth shut, not even mentioning him
once. We video chatted with the parental units—well, with my mom, as Dad
was too busy on a business call—watched movies, and ordered from his
favorite pizza joint, before I finally called it a night.
I told myself to put Asher out of my mind. Things are different now, but
somehow not different at all. Because even though I’m older, we still can’t be
together. And on top of that, he now hates me, for some unknown reason.he does not
But, turning my feelings off is easier said than done, so I caved to my desirehate you,
stoopid
wait what to touch myself to thoughts of Asher. I imagined him sneaking into my room
and slipping inside me. Only he wouldn’t be sweet like Jackson was. It would
hurt—because everything with Ash hurts—and I’d beg him not to stop. I
couldn’t even hate myself for it afterward because I was finally able drift off
to sleep, blissfully sated.
This morning, however, is another story. The moment I opened my eyes,
at six A.M. for some god-awful reason, a sense of dread blanketed my mood,
like a dark cloud hanging over my head. I didn’t know why, but I was pretty
sure Asher had something to do with it. lo culpaba JAJAJAJAJ
 Now, I’m standing in the kitchen in an old white T-shirt that reaches mid-
thigh, making breakfast burritos for the hungry men who will be infiltrating
my kitchen soon on the griddle of the restaurant-style range. I look at the
clock on the microwave—seven thirty. I have a good hour before everyone
wakes up and shows up, but the food can be reheated. And I can guarantee
the drinking will start before ten A.M., so these assholes will need
sustenance.
The silence is too much, so I grab my earbuds and hit shuffle on my
playlist. An acoustic version of “Hoodie” by Hey Violet filters through my
headphones. Jesus, I’m pathetic because everything always comes back to
Asher. This song included.
I’m sprinkling shredded cheese onto the potatoes, swaying and singing,
when I feel a hand brush across my neck before clamping down. I whip
around, wielding the spatula in front of me like a weapon, only to see Asher
standing there, looking highly unimpressed. hehehehe
He has on a thin, black tank top with the sides cut out and gray board
shorts. His hair is wet and slicked back, as if he just got out of the shower,
and I can’t help but wonder if he used my conditioner again. Now my heart is
racing for another reason entirely.
“Jesus, Asher!” I whisper-yell. He tugs on the white cord, ripping the bud
from my ear with a wicked smirk plastered to his face.
“I said your name. Multiple times.” He shrugs, like that gives him an
excuse to scare the life out of me.
“Where have you been?” I ask, without meaning to, turning back to
switch the griddle off and scoop everything onto plates.
“Don’t tell me you’ve missed me, Sugar Plum,” he whispers, still
crowding my space, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why no—” Asher starts, but stops, and I twist around to look at him
expectantly. The playfulness is gone, and his expression is back to being
stone-cold.
“What?” I ask with a nervous laugh. “Why are you looking at me like
that?” DIABLO PERO E DE VERDA QUE ESTA TIPA NO SE QUIERE
“Is that my shirt?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the tattered, blood-
speckled tee. The one he left behind in my brother’s room the night he left.
The one I snatched after he crawled back out the window, and sniffed in the
privacy of my room for weeks afterward, until his scent was gone just like
ay pero ella es loca, y sucia, LE DEJABA LA
SANGRE JAJJAJAJAJ
him. The one I don’t even think of as being his anymore.
“It’s mine,” I say firmly, chin thrust forward. My ears are burning with
embarrassment and I feel my face heat, but I don’t show it.
“Funny, I bled on a shirt just like that.”JAJAJAJAJAJ
“Well, even if it was yours, I think the statute of limitations would be up
by now.”
He laughs, more of a single huff, really, before scrubbing a hand over his
face. “Why’d you keep it, Briar?”
I have two choices. I can either play dumb or tell the truth. The truth is
awkward and uncomfortable, but I decide to go with it. Maybe if I give him a
little morsel of honesty, he’ll open up about why he left the way he did,
leaving all thoughts of college and Dash and me behind. Or maybe I’m just a
glutton for disappointment.
“Because I was sad. Because you left me, and I had—no—have no idea
why. Because the only friend I had after you disappeared was my own
sad.
brother and I missed you so much that it physically hurt. And because this
stupid shirt was the only thing that made me feel closer to you.” QUE TU HACE????
Asher doesn’t speak, just stands there with his mouth pressed in a flat
AY DIO
line. His eyebrows pull together as if he’s trying to work something out in his
head. He opens his mouth to say something, but before I can get my hopes
up, he snaps it shut.
Asher steps toward me, and I suck in a breath. He hooks a finger under
my chin, and I have to tilt my head up to make eye contact when he’s this
close. My hands that are braced on the oven handle behind me start to feel
clammy, and I’m afraid to breathe, afraid to do anything to ruin this moment.
His dark, mismatched eyes search my blues, for what, I don’t know. AWWWWWWWW
But it all comes crashing down when I hear the last voice I expect to hear.
Here. In my house.
“Uh, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Whitley says, each word
dripping with disdain. PERO TE ODIO
Asher snaps out of his trance, and the mask of indifference is firmly back
in place. i want waffles fries JAJJJAJAJJAJAA
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I didn’t even hear her come
in. I haven’t so much as laid eyes on her since the party where she bragged
about hooking up with Asher, and if I never see her again, it would be too
soon.
“Aw, didn’t Asher tell you? I’m his date for your brother’s party. Thanks
DEMONIO pero eta gente dan do paso pa lante y 80 pa atra
 for keeping him entertained ’til I got here.”
I look at him, my eyebrows clear up to my hairline, unable to comprehend
the fact that he invited her, here, of all people. Of all places. That’s a new
level of low, even for him.
“You’re not my fucking date,” Ash spits with more venom than he’s ever
directed at me. thanks for clarifying
Before anyone can say another word, the front door swings open and
Adrian, two thirty-packs of beer under each arm, and a couple of other people
I don’t recognize make their way toward the kitchen.
Asher’s jaw hardens and he shoots a look to my bare legs, and it’s only
then that I realize I’m still standing here…without pants.
“Breakfast burritos are ready,” I supply, keeping myself hidden behind
the countertop.
Adrian notices Whitley being here and looks at me with an eyebrow
cocked in question. I shoot him a look that says tell me about it. No one
really likes her. I’m not sure why she sticks around, or why they allow it.
JAJAJAJJAJA“You’re too good to me, baby,” he says, clutching his chest and making
his way toward the food. He fixes his plate and is already inhaling it in three
seconds flat. If you want to win Adrian’s heart, food is the fastest way to it.
Hands down.
“Damn, girl,” he says through a mouthful, as everyone else starts helping
themselves, “shit is the bomb.”
“Briar,” Asher says, his voice cold and hard. Just like him.
“What?” I snap at him. I’m not ready to play nice yet.
“Clothes,” he says in a threatening voice. “Now.” mi feminismo esta apagado en estos momentos
Adrian stands up from the barstool at the counter and peers over at me,
giving me a thorough once-over. Asher plants him back down with a firm
hand to the shoulder as I walk away, fighting the urge to cover myself.
“I’d straight-up suck a fart out of that ass,” I hear Adrian say, followed
by, “Ow, motherfucker!” JAJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJJA AQUEROSOJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAAJJA
I’d laugh if I weren’t fuming. I’m not even mad at Whitley. This is what
she does. But Asher? He knows how she’s always treated me. He knows how
I feel about her. And still, she’s here. Smugger than Simon Cowell. AHORA SI ME MORI
AJAJAJJ
I quickly pull on my white bikini and some cut-off jean shorts and head
back to the kitchen. Dash is awake now, already eating, and stands when he
sees me. Asher is sitting on the arm of the couch, and Whitley is perched
between his spread legs.
 “Thanks for breakfast, Bry,” Dash says, hooking an arm around my neck
and giving me a quick peck to the top of my head.
“Surprise,” I say half-heartedly, my eyes still locked on the man version
of the boy I used to love.
Asher stands abruptly, causing Whitley to stumble. “Going to take a
piss.” He walks by me, not looking even a little sorry. lo que ma mea
“I’m going to go grab some towels. Be ready to leave in five?” I ask.
Everyone mumbles their agreement.
Once I round the corner, I pause at the bathroom door to make sure no
one else is around, and before I can talk myself out of it, I’m barging in.
Asher’s standing in front of the toilet, peeing, perpetually unfazed. JAJAJA eta muchacha e
como loca
“This gonna be our thing? Meeting up in the bathroom? Not exactly the
most sanitary place, but I guess it will do.”
“Why’d you do it?” I seethe, too angry to be mesmerized by the glint of
silver as he shakes himself once he finishes, before tucking himself back into
his shorts.
“Do what?” he says with a sigh, as if he’s exasperated by my antics.
“Why would you invite her? You knew exactly what you were doing.”
espaaaa touche “I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Briar.” He wields words like a weapon,
and they hit their intended target, like a punch straight to my gut.
Of course, he isn’t my boyfriend. Even if we were together, words like
boyfriend and girlfriend would seem too trivial a label for us. But it’s about
respect. And intent. He intended to hurt me, and that is what stings the most.
“I’m done, Ash. With whatever this is.” I wave a hand between us.ay por dio
“Like I said, I’m not your boyfriend. So save the breakup speech.”
I drop my gaze, hating how I can want him and detest him
simultaneously.
“Are you going to fuck her?”NO TE IMPORTA BRIAR
A shrug. “Probably.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“It’s about time you realized it.”
I leave the bathroom first, grab my stuff from my room, and shoot off a
text to Nat telling her how much I hate her for not being able to come today,
while the boys load up the trucks with beer and snacks.
I ride with my brother and Adrian, while Whitley hops in with Asher—
shocker—and the other guys. The lake is a good forty-five minutes away, and
somewhere along the way, I decide I’m going to have fun with my brother
and our friends, regardless of Asher and Whitley’s presence. Adrian cracks
jokes and keeps the conversation flowing, and by the time we pull up to the
lake, I’m feeling lighter. Happier.
Ignoring the pain from walking barefoot on the rocky beach, I go straight
for the water. It’s a scorcher at one hundred fourteen degrees today, so I don’t
waste any time.
An arm is slung over my shoulder, and I’m tugged into Adrian’s warm,
tan side. Arms still crossed, I look up and offer him a big smile. Asher was
my crush, but Adrian was always like another brother to me. Albeit, a
perverted brother, but a brother nonetheless.
“Hey.”
“Why do you look like you’re about to off yourself?”
“Shut up, I do not.” I laugh, throwing an elbow into his side. “I’m just
thinking.”
“Thinking about…?” he hedges.
“Just stuff.”
“Stuff like the fact that Whitley is here and hanging all over Kelley like
he holds the key to all the blow in the entire state?”
I cringe, not only at that visual, but also because, apparently, I’m so
transparent that even Adrian can see through me.
“He doesn’t want her, sweetheart,” he says, ducking his head close to
mine. thank you adrian
Giving up the charade, I ask, “How do you know?”
Adrian looks backward, a cocky grin plastered to his face.
“Because if he wanted anything to do with her, he wouldn’t be staring
over here, looking like he’s about to commit murder right after he pisses on
you to mark his territory.” JAJAJAAJ
Trying to appear as casual as possible, I glance behind me to see Asher
sitting on the tailgate of his truck, white knuckling his beer bottle. Clenched
jaw. Spine ramrod straight. Yeah, he’s pissed. Meanwhile, Whitley is
oblivious, prancing around in her hot pink bikini that barely covers her crotch
and half a nipple, making every effort to be noticed by Ash—and every other
guy at the lake. hate her
“Then, maybe he should do something about it,” I say, suddenly feeling
so fed up with this game we’re playing.
“Give him a minute.” He chuckles. “Kelley doesn’t catch feelings for
anyone. Not once in all the years that I’ve known him has he had a legitimate
relationship. Figures the first girl he falls for ends up being his best friend’s
little sister.” LO DIJO AWWWW
The first girl he falls for… SI YES YOU ASSHOLE DON'T YOU LISTEN?
I don’t know if what Adrian is saying holds any truth—Asher is a very
different person than he was before he left—but those words dull my anger,
just a little. Sweet, vulnerable Asher doesn’t know how to love anyone.ay dio que
Doesn’t know how to let anyone love him. I could’ve loved him enough formala
the both of us if he let me.
“Let’s go!” Dash yells, and I look over to see him standing on Adrian’s
dad’s pontoon that they’ve already managed to unload into the water. “Who’s
taking the Jet Skis?” he asks, holding two keys attached to bracelets.
Slipping out from under Adrian’s side, I run up and snatch one of the
keys from him. I love these things, plus the more distance between Whitley
and me, the better.
“You sure?” Dash asks, concern etched into his features.
“I’ll be careful, Dad,” I tease, giving a reassuring smile. Dash tosses me a
life jacket, and I strap it on over my chest. I unbutton my shorts and let them
fall to my ankles before tossing them onto the pontoon.
“All right, who else?”
Adrian starts toward us, but Asher hops off the tailgate, tosses his empty
bottle into the bed of his truck, and then claims the other set of keys without a
word. Adrian shoots me a knowing look.
Lovely. LOVELY
“Stay close to Kelley. I’ll see you out there.”
Everyone piles onto the boat while Ash and I make our way toward the
Jet Skis.
“You know how to drive one of these things?” Asher asks, shrugging on
his own life jacket—looking put out that he’s not above the law and has to
wear one—as I swing a leg over and hop on.
“Yep.”
“Of course, you do.”
eee ok
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not a damn thing. Ready?”
Instead of answering, I stick the key in and hit the start button. Asher gets
behind me, and we both coast, unspeaking, until we pass the no-wake zone.
As soon as we hit the buoys giving us the green light, Asher speeds off ahead
of me.
 Dick.
I squeeze the throttle on the handlebar and manage to catch up to him. His
head swivels over to me, and I see a dark brow lift in amusement behind his
black sunglasses. He ups his speed, daring me to keep up, and I don’t plan to
back down. My hair whips in every direction, and I’m laughing like a lunatic,
but I don’t care. It’s not like he can hear me, anyway. I can resume my anger
once I’m done having fun.
We’re in the pontoon’s wake, and I hear Dash and Adrian hollering at us.
They’re holding up something that I can’t make out… Is that a beer bong?
Yup. It’s definitely a beer bong. EPAAA THIS IS GETTING EXCITING
Asher stands on his Jet Ski, hands still on the handlebars, and cuts out of
the wake, hitting several waves that send him flying through the air. But, he
doesn’t lose control for even a second. He’s always loved the water, and it
loves him right back. His dark gray board shorts cling to him like a second
skin and hang low enough to expose the defined crease between two toned
JAJAJAJAJ ass cheeks. That, combined with the vibration between my thighs, has me

feeling more than a little squirmy.

Instead of staying with the boat, I veer off and follow Asher. He glances
over his shoulder, and I swear I see a hint of a smirk on those gorgeous,
pouty lips of his. If I thought we were going fast before, we’re flying now. I
check the speed. Thirty-eight miles per hour. Okay, so maybe it’s not that
fast. But it feels a lot faster on water.
Every time we hit a wave, he checks back on me, and some stupid, naïve
part of me equates that as caring about me—at least in some capacity. Baby
steps. AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
After playing around in the water a little more, Ash leads the way back to
Dash and everyone. We’re parallel to the pontoon, but this time, I’m in front
of him. I look back at Dash for a split second before I hear Asher yell.
“Briar!”
My head snaps to my right, and I see another Jet Ski coming straight for
me. Fear takes hold and I’m frozen, unsure of what to do. If I hit the off
button at this speed, I’ll be ejected. I can’t go left, because the pontoon is
there. My only option is to pull out the key and take a sharp right.
I just narrowly avoid being hit, water splashes onto my face, and the two
guys on the Jet Ski look back, oblivious to the fact that they almost took me
out. I’m still trying to calm my racing heart when Asher’s suddenly at my
side.
 “You okay?” he barks out, his eyebrows cinched together.
“Yeah, I—” Before I can finish my sentence, he takes off after them.
“Asher! Don’t!” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ME DA ALGO
But there’s no stopping him. He’s off like a rocket, chasing them across
the lake. He has to be going at least sixty miles per hour to catch up to them.
This is the old Asher. The hothead, always looking for a fight.
“Bry!” Dash yells out to me, panic lacing his voice.
“I’m good!” I shout back, climbing back on and giving a thumbs-up.
Asher passes them, and I’m confused for a second, wondering if he
thought better of it, until he turns back around, heading straight for them.
Is he playing chicken?
They try to dodge him, but he mirrors their every move. I hold my breath,
watching through my fingers and hoping to God he doesn’t hurt himself or
anyone else, when he cuts right, just before they’re about to collide, and
soaks the shit out of them. The guy tries to take a sharp turn to avoid getting
hit, but they end up tipping over and going under.
Adrian and Dash howl with laughter, while Whitley rolls her eyes
because the attention isn’t on her. I think I let out something between a
nervous giggle and a relieved sigh, but I can’t tell because my pulse is still
pounding in my ears.
I’m not sure exactly what’s going on from here, but I can hear Asher’s
threatening, booming voice, and then he’s throwing his arms up and pointing
back at me. One guy swims to the shore, and one mounts the Jet Ski, idling.
A few more words are exchanged before they go their separate ways.
Once he’s back, he tells me to get my ass on the boat. I idle as close as I
can get and Adrian extends a hand to pull me up. I ditch my life vest, then
pull the key bracelet off, handing it to one of Dash’s other friends. Asher
dives off his Jet Ski and climbs onto the boat behind me.
“Key’s on the handlebar,” he says to anyone and everyone, but staring at
only me, and one of the other guys jumps in to get it.
“It wasn’t—” I start, but he cuts me right off.
“No, it wasn’t your fault. Those fucks were drunker than shit.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I didn’t expect that. I don’t know why, I just assumed he’d find a way to
turn it around on me.
“But, you weren’t paying attention.” Annnnd there it is. “If you hadn’t
thought fast…”
 “Thank you, Asher,” I say simply.
He gives a short, forced nod, but then Whitley is there next to him,
tracing her talons up and down the dips and grooves of his abs. Asher tenses
ever so slightly, but I catch it.
“That’s a really cute suit, Briar,” Whitley says, her saccharine sweet voice
dripping with insincerity.
“Thanks,” I deadpan.
“It’s really brave for someone so…curvy to wear white. I wish I was as
confident as you are.” perra..
I roll my eyes, letting her comment roll off my back before walking away.
Is this what we’re resorting to now? Backhanded, mean girl compliments?
Seeing her touch his body with such ease, such intimacy, was far worse than
any insult she could sling at me. I sit on the cushioned bench on the very back
of the boat, resting a forearm on my folded knees.
Dash, deciding this is as good a place as any, throws the anchor over the
side, next to another boat full of partiers. There are probably ten or so guys
and girls who look to be a little older than us. Maybe mid-twenties. Dash
grabs the beer bong and steps over onto their boat and introduces himself.
Ever the attention whore.
“Having fun, pretty girl?” Adrian asks, plopping down beside me,
flashing that megawatt smile. He’s ridiculously attractive with his inky black
hair, caramel-colored skin, and golden eyes. Why couldn’t I crush on a guy
like him? Because that would be too easy. right.
“I was before I almost died.” I laugh.
“I don’t think it was the near-death experience that put that look on your
face,” he teases. But he’s also right.
“When did you get so insightful?” I grumble.
We both watch as Whitley sits on an uninterested Asher. At least, he
appears to be uninterested, with the way he stares directly ahead as Whitley
bounces around on his lap to some shitty Ke$ha song playing from the other
boat.
Adrian tucks a wayward hair behind my ear, and I must give him the
dirtiest side-eye known to man, because he laughs and leans in, explaining
himself.
“Trust me. He just needs a little push.” DIOS TE AMO
I swallow hard and give a shaky nod. Good thing Dash is too entertained
by his new friends to notice Adrian’s show. Though, somehow, I suspect that
 he’d get away with it, anyway. Adrian just has that way about him. He can
bullshit his way out of anything, and everyone loves him. Even Ash, though
you’d never know it by seeing them together.
“Don’t look at him,” Adrian says in a hushed voice. “Keep looking at
me.”
I look into his usually mirthful eyes, but right now, they’re full of heat,
and I’m wondering if this is still an act. He cups the side of my neck, pulling
NOOOOOOO
me closer. His lips are just an inch from mine, and even though I know it’s all
for show, my stomach twists with nerves.
“Damn, Briar. I’m starting to think you’d be worth the beating I’d get
from your brother and Kelley.”
Huh? OH SHIT
“I’m gonna kiss you. Go with it.”
His fingertips touch my cheek, and for some reason, my first thought is
how they’re so much softer than Asher’s calloused hands. It’s a testament to
how different their lives have been. How different they still are.
I’m about to say no. These kinds of games always lead to trouble. I
chance a look at Asher out of the corner of my eye, and all I can focus on is
his death grip on Whitley’s thigh. AY PERO CUEROOOOOO
All of a sudden, Adrian’s soft lips meet mine. I gasp, and he takes the
opportunity to slip his tongue in to tangle with him. Before I can process the
fact that it’s happening, his mouth is ripped away from mine. And then a
moment later, a splash.
My eyes shoot open to see Asher in front of me—face full of anger and
clenched fists full of rage—and I hear Adrian sputtering and chuckling from
the water. Asher pushed him off the edge? That fucker was right.
“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Anyone in their right mind would be afraid, but Adrian literally laughs
him off. JJAJAJAJJAJAJA TE AMO TE AMO
“I mean, we can share. It’s not gay if your balls don’t touch!” Adrian
yells, sending a wink in my direction.
Turning his attention to me, Asher grabs me by my bicep and drags me
toward the other side of the boat.
“You’re coming with me. Say whatever the fuck you have to say to your
brother.”
“Why should I?”
“Don’t fucking play with me right now, Briar,” he says roughly,
snatching up a life vest and smacking it to my chest. “You’re going to pay for
that little show.”
VIENE PEOOO

ASHER
I’m going to kill Adrian’s bitch ass. I know exactly what he was trying to do.
But I also know that he wouldn’t pass up the chance to hook up with Briar if
it came down to it, either. And what the fuck was she thinking, letting him
put his hands on her? His lips on her?
After making up some excuse about needing to get back home, Dash
hugged his sister and thanked me for offering to help her. I’m a piece of shit,
but ask me if I care right now.
She was wearing my shirt this morning. Just my shirt. She kept it. When I
saw her standing there with her back to me, bare legs and messy hair, I
wished things were different. I wished I wasn’t a fucking lowlife scumbag
and that she wasn’t the girl who purposely fucked me over because her pride
was wounded. AY DIOOOOOOOO
Nothing makes sense. I was about to ask her why she did it, once and for
all, if only to keep from crushing my lips to hers, but then fucking Whitley
walked in.
Y BRY ECHANDOLE LA CULPA
I didn’t invite her. Fuck that. If there’s a party, or anything even
resembling one, Whitley will find out about it. My guess is that one of the
other guys who still risks his life by putting his dick inside her tipped her off.
I know she still tries to talk to Dash, but he shut that shit down a long time
ago. And if Dash won’t touch her, that automatically excludes Adrian, seeing
as how they like to share.
I’ll admit that I’ve fucked her in the past, but it was never a relationship.
We were just two lonely, miserable people who used each other. I used her
for coke, and she used me for sex. She knew the drill. It’s not like I could
sleep with my best friend’s fourteen-year-old sister, so I didn’t really care. taba aficiao tambn
I let Briar think that I invited her. Maybe it was payback for having to see
her with Jackson. Maybe it was my way of getting her to hate me so I
wouldn’t be tempted to forget her transgressions and make her mine. Maybe
I’m just an asshole.
 I step onto the Jet Ski and hold out my hand to help Bry on behind me,
but she doesn’t take it.
“Where’s yours?” she questions.
“My what?”
“Your life jacket. It’s illegal to be on that thing without one,” she says,
arms crossed.
A devious smirk spreads across my face. “You’re stalling, baby girl.”
She takes a fortifying breath before taking my hand and cautiously
stepping down. Once she’s on, her thighs hug mine, and I can feel the heat of
her pussy on my back. ay pero
This was a bad fucking idea.
I spot the key hanging off the handlebar, and I start it up, ignoring
Whitley’s shrill protests from the boat. The ride back to shore does little to
calm my anger. If anything, I’m only getting more pissed off by the minute.
Briar’s only five feet tall, but the girl is all legs. And right now, those
thighs have me in a vise grip as she holds on to me for dear life. After hitting
a rough wave that forces us even closer together, she finally wraps her timid
arms around my stomach. I’m hard from her touch alone. I feel her tuck into
me, her forehead hitting the top of my spine—probably to shield her face
from the wind—and her long, blonde hair whips in my face.
We hit another wave, and instinctively, my left hand shoots out to grip
her thigh. But I don’t remove it. Not even when we’re in the no-wake zone.
Once we reach the shore, I yank the key out while she takes off her vest,
exposing those perky tits covered by thin scraps of white triangles. Fuck, she
looks good. I bend down and lift her around the waist, and even though she
squeals, her legs immediately lock around me.
“Put me down!” NO REPIRO
“Shut up.”
She tries to wriggle down my body, but all she does is make my dick
harder, and the moment she feels it, she freezes. I laugh darkly at her wide
eyes. JAJAJAJAJJAJJA
Once we’re to my truck, I lay her down in the bed of it, on top of an old
quilt I keep back here to prevent tools from scratching the paint.
“Tell me, Briar. What was your plan?” I ask, leaning over her.
She lies there, and with the setting sun making her hair appear more
golden than blonde, those faint freckles across her nose, and cheeks rosy
from the sun, she looks even more innocent than usual. She shakes her head.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your plan. With Adrian?” Don’t play dumb, baby.
“He wasn’t being serious.”
“Bullshit,” I say, trailing my hand up her soft thigh. Higher, higher,
higher. “Were you going to let him touch this?” I grip her between her legs
through her bathing suit bottoms, and she gasps.
“Huh? Were you going to let him touch your pussy?”
“No,” she breathes, as the flat of my fingers start to rub up and down.
“Because he would, you know. He’d fuck you in a heartbeat if given half
the chance.”
“You’re such a hypocrite,” she says, eyes closing in pleasure. “You can
be all over Whitley, but I can’t kiss anyone?”
“Fuck Whitley. I don’t want her.” I want you. I don’t say it out loud, but
the insinuation is clear. AAAAAAAA ME FALTA EL AIRE

She pushes into my hand, and I feel her wetness through the fabric of her
bathing suit.
“Who are you wet for, baby girl? Is it for him? Or me?”
Briar doesn’t answer, too focused on trying to close her legs around my
hand to stop my movements. Her eyes dart around, making sure we don’t
have any company. The sun is going down, so there are people only feet
away, packing up for the day.
“No one can see you,” I say, covering her body with mine. “But even if
they could…let them watch.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she says on a gasp, but she parts her legs
for me anyway, and I rub her clit with the heel of my palm at the same time
that I pull her bathing suit top to the side with my teeth. I suck the soft flesh
into my mouth, leaving my mark on her.
“You wanted to play big girl games, Briar. Now, I’m going to treat you
like a big girl.” COJE ASH AHORA
Briar’s head drops back, exposing her slender throat. A lone freckle
where her neck meets her shoulder catches my eye, and without thinking
twice, I bite into her. Hard.
She shrieks in pain before I feel her entire body tense up, and her knees
clamp shut, effectively trapping my hand between her legs. Once she starts to
shudder and shake, I realize she wasn’t screaming in pain. She was screaming
from pleasure.
Baby girl likes it rough.
 “Did you really just come?” I ask wryly.
She throws an arm over to shield her face and rolls away from me.
“Fuck you.”
“Why, so you can come on my cock this time?” AY PERO Y QUE E
“You’re disgusting. Take me home.”
“How long has it been, Bry? You must be going through quite the dry
spell to get off so easily. Or is it just me that has that effect on you?”
I’m just saying things to get under her skin at this point. Getting a rise out
of her is my newest addiction. It’s better than cocaine. Briar sits up and
jumps down from the tailgate, then stomps around to the front of the truck.
She hops into the passenger seat and slams the door.
I decide to let her stew in her post-orgasmic bliss-slash-guilt while I set
the Jet Ski up onto the trailer. It takes a while, and by the time I get back, the
sun has completely set.
Briar sits in the front seat, chipping away at her white nail polish. She
doesn’t glance my way when I open the door. Not even when I start the truck.
And not even when we pull up to her house.
“You wanna tell me why I’m the one with blue balls and you’re giving
the silent treatment?” It was a joke, but apparently the wrong thing to say,
because when she looks up at me, her eyes are shining with unshed tears.
“Why do you do this to me?”
“What exactly am I doing to you? Besides making you come on my
hand?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing. You’ve been stringing me along
since I was fourteen fucking years old.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I seethe. Does she think I
do this on purpose? That I like feeling this way? I want to hate her. I do hate
her. But I also just want her. This is her fault. If it weren’t for her, none of the
past three years would’ve happened. enemies to loveers
“No, Asher, I think I do. You don’t want me until someone else does. But
we’re just friends, right? At least, we were. Now, we’re not even that.”
“Because you’re so innocent,” I snap back. “Little Briar fucking Vale.
Such a saint. Such a victim. That’s what you want people to think, isn’t it?
But they don’t know you like I do. I see you.”
Briar huffs, avoiding eye contact while clumsily slapping around for the
handle.
“I was trying to protect you,” I say grudgingly. “Jackson isn’t a good
guy.”
“You’re miserable. And you won’t be happy until everyone is just as
miserable as you. I’m done.”
“Why don’t you ask him about his list then?” I toss back, ignoring the
fact there is some truth to her words.
She gives me an appraising look, probably trying to gauge whether or not
I’m telling the truth before she storms out of the truck and slams the door.
Her pale hair whipping around in the dark behind her is the last thing I see
before I drive off. I can’t be here right now, so I go to the one place I’ve been
avoiding since I got into town.
Home.

I stand in front of the house I grew up in with its flaking, once-white paint,
and front yard full of dirt for the second time since coming back. The first
time, I took exactly one step inside before bailing.
The olive-green Oldsmobile sits in the cracked driveway, and nothing
seems to have changed since I’ve been gone, except the boarded-up front
window. The mailbox is knocked over, almost completely horizontal. I kick it
when I walk past, inadvertently causing it to stand almost straight.
Don’t say I never did anything for you, you piece of shit.
Once I’m at the front door, I smell the old familiar scent of mothballs that
my dad insists keeps stray cats away. I raise a fist to knock before deciding to
let myself in. Inside, it’s dark, hot, and smells of stale cigarettes. Years of
smoking in the house have resulted in nicotine-stained walls, but I can still
see faint white patches where pictures used to hang.
And then I see him. John Kelley, in all his glory. Passed out in his black,
cracked leather recliner, in front of an old television with a rabbit-ear
antenna. A cigarette dangles from his fingertips with ash a mile long, and
below it sits a collection of beer bottles.
“You got somethin’ to say, boy, or are you just gonna stand there and
keep killing me in your mind?”
Okay, so maybe he isn’t asleep.
Wordlessly, I scan his face, noticing his yellow complexion and clammy
skin. I didn’t know how I’d feel standing in this house, facing this man who
couldn’t seem to put his bullshit aside for one goddamn minute to be a decent
father. Even a decent human would’ve sufficed. But, the bitterness,
resentment, and flat-out disgust are all still there.
“Well, no need,” he says with a cough. “My liver will kill me before you
get the balls.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” I ask, the picture of apathy as I
casually sit on the filthy couch. It’s the same one that was old, even when I
was a baby, with its plaid design made up of different shades of tans and
browns and wooden arms.
“No,” he says thoughtfully. “No, I guess you wouldn’t have any reason
to, would you?”
“If you think that we’re going to be buddy-buddy just because you’re
dying, think again.”
“Then, why are you here?” he rasps, taking a drag of his cigarette.
I look him dead in the eyes. “To bury you.”
He nods once, before looking back at the TV. “Fair enough.”
Minutes pass, him not knowing what to say, and me not wanting to say
anything at all. Finally, he breaks the silence.
“I never meant for you to meet David.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Even hearing that name has my blood boiling, but he keeps speaking.
“I didn’t want him to know you so much as existed. And, hell, for the first
few years, he didn’t.”
I give a heavy sigh, aiming for bored. “Is this going to be a thing? You’re
dying, so now you’re trying to absolve yourself of all your sins and guilt?” I
roll my eyes and sit back, propping one foot on my knee, arms spread over
the itchy fabric of the couch. “Save your breath, because I don’t give a fuck
about any of it.”
“My father…” he trails off, looking away before continuing. “He was
rough with us both. But David was different. He’d always been…off, even
from a young age. I don’t remember a time in my life when he was normal.”
I feel my smirk falter. “I said stop.”
“Then, once your mother died—”
“What happened to your window?” I say, nodding my chin in the
direction of the boarded-up mess, changing the subject. I’m not talking about
David, and I sure as hell am not talking about my mother.
“Ask your little girlfriend.”
 My eyebrows pull together in confusion.
“Who?”
Maybe he means Whitley. She’s the one who told me he was hospitalized
a few weeks ago and begged me to come home. Her mom is a registered
nurse, and even though we don’t exactly live in a small town, it’s hard not to
know who my dad is.
“The little blonde girl you used to run around with.” QUE
“Briar?” That doesn’t make sense. How would she know what happened?
He nods and reaches for the beer bottle at his feet, liver be damned.
“Threw a brick right through my window. She stood there seething for about
ten minutes first. I didn’t think she’d do anything. She was just a little girl.
So, I went about my business.”
His business. Also known as drinking enough vodka to kill a horse while
watching Skinemax. Most likely in his underwear.
“I about shit my pants when it happened. Got my drunk ass up just in
time to see her flip me off.”
“When?”
“Right after you left.” He shrugs. “Before I got my DUI.”
Well, well, well. Briar isn’t such an angel, after all. But I already knew
that, didn’t I?
It doesn’t change what she did, but it does have my lips tugging into a
reluctant grin. No one has the balls to stand up to John Kelley. Not even me,
for a long time, anyway. DATE CUENTA WEY
I stand and scan the hellhole I used to call home one more time before
deciding to leave. I used to fucking hate this place. It made me physically ill
to be here, to be around my dad. To face the memory of my mom. Now, I’m
just glad I got out, even if I had to go through hell.
“See you around, I guess.”
“Does that mean you’re sticking around?”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his voice sounds hopeful.
“For now.”
When I’m sitting in my truck, I scroll through my phone to the one
number I haven’t used in years and press call. After three rings, I start to
think she’s not going to answer, but on the fourth, she picks up—voice all
velvety and thick with sleep.
“Hello?”
“You asked me why I do this to you. The truth is, I don’t fucking know
why. But until I figure it out, you’re going to stay away from Jackson, you’re
going to stay away from Adrian, and you’re going to stay away from fucking
Billy Bob working over at the Circle K.”
“And why should I do that?” AAAAAFINALLY

“Because this isn’t finished, Briar. You and I were never just friends.”
I hang up without waiting for a response, tempted to sneak into her room
and really drive my point home, but I decide to leave it. For tonight, at least.
I end up heading back to their house after driving around for a while. A
couple of days ago, I called the number listed on the building permit posted
in a yard a few streets over on a whim. Asked the dude if he needed a roofer,
and without even wanting to meet me, he told me the house would be ready
for the roof by tomorrow and to show up ready to work.
Fuck, I love my job. I don’t have to talk to anyone. I’m my own boss. I
can work at my own pace, for the most part. I only take jobs when I feel like
it, and if I don’t hire anyone to help me, I can bust a roof out in a few days
and make a good chunk of money. That also means I’m not tied down to any
one place for too long. Plus, I’ve found that when you’re hammering into
shingles all day, you don’t have time to get lost in your head. And my head is
not a pretty place to be.
I’m not exactly rich. Not compared to the people of Cactus Heights. But
it’s sure as fuck more than I ever dreamed of making, and more than John
ever made. We didn’t have money growing up, so I’m used to living
modestly. Dare was the one who convinced me that I needed to spend a little
to live a little, and I finally caved and bought my truck. It’s the first thing in
my entire life that’s ever been mine and only mine. Besides Briar, I think, but
she never really was mine. ARE YOU CRAZY OR WHAT
As I’m dozing off, I remember to set my alarm and notice a text from the
little devil herself.
Briar: Same goes to you. No more Whitley, or no deal.
Me: Easy enough.
I know she fell back asleep, judging by the silence when I came in, so I
don’t wait for a response.
 CHAPTER 5

BRIAR

A sher’s words have played on a loop in my head for the past couple
of days.
“You and I were never just friends.”
Understatement of the century.
Our little agreement has me giddy, though I know better than to think it
means anything other than Asher being territorial. Little does he know, I’ve
already distanced myself from Jackson. It didn’t feel right, and I didn’t want
to string him along. It hasn’t stopped him from texting me, though. His
behavior has become slightly erratic, accusing me of being a tease for not
responding to him one second, and then apologizing in the next breath. I
chalk it up to him not being able to handle rejection. Guys like him never can.
Pathetic. it is
But, after Ash’s cryptic comment about a list, I’ve wondered if there was
something more sinister going on. So, against my better judgment, when he
asked if he could come over to talk, I said yes. My brother and Adrian are
both here—sleeping off hangovers, but they’re here—should anything go
wrong. I doubt it will. I don’t think Jackson is dangerous, but I guess you
never know.
I step out of the pool to get dressed before Jackson comes over. I’m
bending over, grabbing my towel off the patio chair when I see him come
waltzing through the sliding glass door.
“You’re early,” I say, not even having to check the time to know he’s at
 RED FUCKING FLAG

least forty-five minutes early. Not only that, but he let himself in. Jackson’s
eyes zero in on my chest, and I look down to see that my top has slid over a
little, exposing the two purple spots Asher left as souvenirs. My face burns
with embarrassment as I wrap the towel around me.
“I’m going to get dressed. Stay here,” I instruct, and he nods, taking a
seat on one of the cushioned lounge chairs. I run inside to throw on some
skinny yoga pants and a plain white tee before meeting Jackson back outside.
He’s wearing crisp, dark jeans and a baby blue polo shirt, his usual attire, but
something in his eyes is off. His easy smile is gone, and he appears to be on
edge. niall
“How are you, Jackson?” Small talk is the worst, but I don’t know what
else to say. I want to ask him about the list, whatever it is, but I decide to ease
into it.
“Same old, same old,” he says, bouncing his knee. “I wish you’d talk to
me, though.”
I sigh, not wanting to go there right now.
“Jackson …” I start, but the words fail me. He stares, waiting for an
explanation that I can’t give him. Nothing happened. At all. I just don’t feel
that way about him. I tried to make myself want him, but it turns out the heart
is a stubborn, fussy bitch. And mine has only ever wanted Asher.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admit.
“Just tell me the truth. I thought things were going well, and then it was
like you just…lost interest.” His eyebrows pull together, as if he’s genuinely
never been rejected before and can’t begin to make sense of it.
“I just think we’d make better friends.”
“It’s because of him, isn’t it?” he accuses, his eyes turning hard, and I
know he’s referring to Asher. I consider telling him the truth, but I can’t risk
other people finding out about us. And I don’t trust Jackson.
“No,” I say, taking a seat on the chair next to him. “But I do need to ask
you something.”
“Anything,” he says casually, but his eyes scan me for clues. He knows I
know something, but he doesn’t know what. I’m starting to realize that there
might be more lurking beneath that pretty-boy charade.
“Am I on a list?”
His knee ceases its bouncing, and his eyes widen. “What list?”
I can tell he’s being deliberately obtuse, and that Asher and my brother
were right to be concerned.
 “Don’t play dumb.” I sigh. “Am I on a list?” I ask again. I stand, crossing
my arms, and Jackson follows suit.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, taking a step toward me. BASTARD
“No,” I say, turning to walk back into my house. “That’s all I needed to
know.” I feel sick. I don’t know what the list entails, but I don’t have to be a
genius to know that it’s not good. That it most likely has something to do
with why he pursued me, and that he betrayed my trust. That’s enough for
me, without having the gritty details.
“Briar, stop,” he demands, but I keep walking. When I open the sliding
door, Dash is sitting at the breakfast bar, while Adrian fries some eggs. My
brother’s blond hair sticks up in every direction, and he looks half-asleep, but
when he sees that I’m upset with Jackson on my heels, he snaps to attention.
Adrian drops the spatula, and they both flank me in an instant.
“What’s going on?” my brother barks.
“Nothing. He was just leaving.”
Jackson swallows nervously, looking among the three of us, probably
trying to gauge how close he is to catching a fist to the face. Ultimately, he
decides to test his luck. que estupido
“There is a list, and that’s why I was interested in you at the beginning,”
he admits, holding up his hands in surrender when both Adrian and my
brother advance on him. “But, I never added your name. I swear to fucking
God, Briar. Why do you think I kept pursuing you? If it was only about the
stupid list, I would have bailed after…” he trails off, thinking better of
finishing that sentence in front of my brother.
Dash’s nostrils flare, and Adrian huffs out a humorless laugh, dragging a
hand down his face.
“You have three seconds to leave before my foot meets your ass.” This
comes from Adrian. ay
“Briar,” Jackson tries again, jaw clenched in frustration, but I shake my
head in response. I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know if it changes
how I feel, even if he is telling the truth.
Adrian arches a brow, and that’s all it takes for Jackson to realize he isn’t
going to win this one. Then, he’s out the door, leaving me with two pairs of
expectant eyes focused on me.
“What?”
“Start talking.” te jodite
Why are all the men in my life so damn pushy?
 CHAPTER 6

ASHER

I finished the job I was doing over a week ago, so instead of working,
I’ve been at my dad’s house. He’s getting worse—I can see it in his
appearance, but his expression tells me that he knows it, too—and he
refuses to go back to the hospital. He’s basically just waiting to die at home,
at this point.
Suit yourself.
I’ve mostly busied myself with cleaning this dump in silence, while my
dad searches for the words to say. He watches me. I ignore him. He talks to
me. I ignore him. There’s nothing he could say to take back the past ten years
of my life, but it doesn’t stop him from trying.
“Where are you staying?” John asks from his place on his trusty old
recliner. I fucking hate that chair. I’m surprised his skin hasn’t grafted to it by
now. I glance up at him, debating on whether or not to respond, but
something in his hopeful expression has me caving.
“Dash’s.”
He nods, expecting that answer, but doesn’t have anything else to add.
I turn my attention back to the giant oak entertainment center—probably
about the same age as the decrepit couch—that takes up almost the entire
length of the wall. The bottom is lined with cabinets sporting broken handles,
and inside is filled with newspapers, my mom’s collection of Disney movies
on VHS, art projects from when I was a kid, and old family pictures. What’s
noticeably absent are photos of my mom and me. I know they used to be in
here. That old bastard probably destroyed them.
I pick up a homemade Christmas ornament with a tiny handprint and a
picture of a child I don’t even recognize anymore—happy and toothless and
carefree. I turn it over. In jumbled, oversized letters, the back reads “Asher
Kelley, age 7, 2nd grade”. A familiar feeling washes over me like an old
friend—a mixture of anger and resentment—and I stuff it down into the trash
bag full of all the other useless shit.
“You’re tossing that?” Dad asks, taking a swig of his water bottle, and I
almost laugh. The sight is so foreign. I don’t ever remember him drinking
anything but beer or liquor. The occasional cup of coffee, maybe. I want to
tell him it’s too late for that, but I bite my tongue.
“Your mother loved that…” he trails off. Clearing his throat, he adds, “I
loved it.” His voice is uncharacteristically gruff, and his eyes so sincere that it
momentarily throws me off.
“Loved it so much that you threw it in with the rest of the crap you don’t
give a shit about?” I start grabbing junk by the handful and shoving it into the
bag, not even sparing a glance at it. It’s better this way.
“Son.”
A turkey handprint from Thanksgiving. An article from the year I made
regionals in swim. A birthday card.
“Son.”
A Hot Wheels car. A photo of me with my first swim medal.
“Son!”
“What!” I snap, rising to my feet to grab another garbage bag.
“I’m sorry,” he says simply, yet emphatically. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry.”
I shake my head, not wanting to hear this shit again. “I’m fucking here,
aren’t I?” What more does he want from me?
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Don’t throw away the good things in your
life on my account. I’ll be gone soon, probably not soon enough for your
liking, but you’ll want these things one day. Trust me on that.”
Tears well up in his eyes, and I look away. My dad has never had a
problem expressing his feelings. Just the opposite, actually. He loved hard,
and he fought harder. Whether he was crying happy tears at one of my swim
meets or in an alcohol-induced fit of rage, he felt everything more than most
people. Even when he beat the shit out of me, I knew that he loved me, as
fucked up as that sounds. He’d always had trouble controlling his emotions,
but after my mom, the calm to his storm, passed away, there was no one to
help him reel it in. More than that, there was no desire to reel it in. I
should’ve been enough. But I wasn’t. And therein lies the problem.
If for some god-forsaken reason I ever become a father, I will live and
fucking breathe for that kid. I will die before ever letting one single bad thing
touch that kid. And I for damn sure wouldn’t hurt my kid or send him off into
the hands of a psychopath. im sorry, he could be anything he want but his heart is so big

“I came for you, Ash,” he admits in a quiet voice, shocking me. I don’t
show it, though. I stare blankly, waiting for him to continue.
“I know it doesn’t matter now. But after I completed my court-ordered
rehab, I went to David’s house. I wasn’t supposed to, not legally, but I didn’t
care. I knew you probably wouldn’t want to stay with me, but I had a plan. I
was going to help set you up with your own place. But you were already
gone. Said you ran away, and he never bothered looking.”
My fists clench at my sides. It’s bullshit. All of it. My dad didn’t have a
dime to his name.
He continues, “I figured it didn’t matter where you were, long as you
weren’t with him. You’re strong. Smart. Hell, you raised yourself after your
mom died. I wasn’t worried.”
“I don’t claim to know a damn thing about being normal, but I’m pretty
sure normal people worry about their kids,” I say sarcastically.
“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead with a shaky
hand. “Of course, I worried. I wondered. But I had faith that you were safe.”
I used to think my dad was the strongest man alive. I remember arguing
with my friends, each of us bragging about the strength of our fathers,
claiming they could lift cars and other ridiculously embellished tales. Now,
he’s sickly thin, except for his distended stomach. Weak. Frail. Pathetic. And
fuck, if some part of me isn’t starting to feel sorry for him.
“I was almost eighteen,” I offer, staring at a cigarette burn in the carpet.
“So, it was just a matter of laying low for a few months.” I don’t tell him how
I stole money from my uncle and hopped the first bus out of there. I don’t tell
him how I met Dare on said bus, who could tell that I was running from
something and offered me a job a few hours into the trip.
“Why didn’t you come back after your birthday?”
Is he serious?
Tearing my eyes from the burnt spot, I look him in the eye.
“I didn’t have anything to come back for.”
 “The Vale girl might not agree with that statement.”
I bark out a humorless laugh.
“She’s the reason I left.”
He knows this better than anyone. But he inspects me, as if looking for a
piece to the puzzle that he’s missing.
“Look,” I say, gripping the back of my neck and focusing on the popcorn
ceiling. “I know you’re trying to make amends before it’s too late, but you
can’t force that shit on me. You’re ready, but I’m not.”
“I get it. I do,” he says. “I just can’t die with you thinking that I didn’t—
that I don’t—love you,” he stutters. “That you ever deserved one goddamn
second of what I put you through. You lost both of your parents the night
your mom died. My biggest regret is blaming you.”
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I pace the living room.
“I don’t need forgiveness. I just needed you to know.”
“I gotta get out of here,” I say, already walking toward the door. My dad
gives a resigned sigh, and I pause, one hand on the door, looking back at him.
“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I thought about going back to Dash and Briar’s, but I needed to clear my
head. Instead, I found myself at a local hole-in-the wall bar. I had exactly
three shots of cheap whiskey before a woman approached me. She was
pretty, in that white trash, damaged sort of way. You could say she was the
female version of me. And from the way her tongue flicked over her straw, I
knew I could’ve had her in the bathroom. In my car. Right there on the bar, if
I really wanted it. I looked her up and down, debating, but Briar’s face was
all I could see, and we made a deal, after all. I couldn’t fucking pull the
trigger, even if I wanted to. Even without the deal. Which, in turn, pissed me
off even more. I slapped a twenty onto the counter and walked out without a
word.
I’ve been driving around for the past two hours now, as “The Boy Who
Blocked His Own Shot” by Brand New blares from my speakers. I light up a
cigarette, relishing in the comfort and the slight buzz as the nicotine is
absorbed in my bloodstream. I quit smoking in River’s Edge—except for the
occasional cigarette if I’m having a few beers—but I’ve been craving them
more since I’ve been back.
I’m heading toward The Tracks, but at the last second, I cut across four
lanes of traffic to take a different exit. The one that leads back to my old
house. Something doesn’t feel right. Or maybe it’s just that I haven’t eaten,
and the whiskey is hitting me harder than usual, so I decide not to make the
drive out there tonight.
When I pull up to the driveway, I know something is off immediately.
There’s a car that I don’t recognize, and once I’m out of my truck, I hear
yelling from inside the house. I run toward the sound to find the front door
cracked open. Walking as quietly as I can, I nudge it open and step inside.
Whatever I thought I’d be walking into, this wasn’t it. David, my uncle,
has John against the wall with his hand around his throat.
“Not so tough now, are ya?” David spits. “Tell me where the boy is, for
the last time.”
“I told you,” John wheezes, trying to loosen the hold on his neck. “He
doesn’t want nothin’ to do with me. Haven’t seen him in years.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. Tell. Me.”
“Fuck you,” my dad says before spitting at him.
Before I can get to them, David’s face contorts with rage, and his elbow
cocks back before nailing John square in the face. He hits him one, two, three
more times as I charge in their direction, both oblivious to my presence.
Coming up behind David, I sucker punch him to the side of the head, and
he goes down like a ton of fucking bricks. I jump on him, raining blow after
blow to his face, head, stomach, anywhere I can.
Three years and fifty pounds later, I can finally hold my own against him.
I’m not the malnourished kid I once was.
“I gotta say, I didn’t see this coming,” David says. “It’s touching, really.”
He laughs, and I hit him again, but he doesn’t seem fazed. A sound from my
left distracts me, and I look over to see my dad struggling to get to his feet.
David jumps on the opportunity, striking my jaw with his fist. Flipping me
onto my back and straddling me, he gets the upper hand. Out of the corner of
my eye, I see John pull himself up, using the arm of the recliner as leverage. I
take another hit to the eye, then the mouth, before I hear the unmistakable
sound of a pistol cocking.
David freezes with his fist mid-air, and I give him a deranged smile
through bloodstained teeth. I shove him backward with both of my palms,
and then I stand above him.
 “How does it feel?” I ask, my voice calm and steady. “How does it feel to
be on the receiving end?” I give a swift kick to his ribs, and he clutches his
side, the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh.
“I want my money,” he wheezes.
I laugh, shaking my head. “How about a bullet instead?”
“Just give me the fucking money, and I’ll leave,” David says, not making
any attempt to get up.
“If I wasn’t sick, I’d beat you to a bloody pulp for touching my kid,” John
says, his gun still trained on David.
It’s David’s turn to chuckle. “That’s fucking rich coming from you.”
“How about this?” I interrupt before David gets himself shot. By the look
in my dad’s eyes, I know it’s not out of the question. “You get the fuck out.
Forget the money, and I’ll forget the fact that I know all about your
extracurricular activities.” His mouth drops open in shock. “Yeah, you didn’t
think this through, did you?” I squat, not-too-gently stubbing two fingers
against his forehead. “How many warrants do you have out for your arrest,
anyway? You thought just because I didn’t speak that I wasn’t listening? I
know details, David. Names. Locations. And if you come back here again,
I’ll sing like a goddamn canary.” JAJAJJAJAJA
My dad looks between us, thoroughly confused, but he doesn’t let his
guard down. He jerks the gun in the direction of the door, and David
scrambles to his feet.
“This isn’t over,” he warns, and then he’s gone.
“I guess there’s a lot you haven’t told me,” my dad says, tiredly
collapsing back into his recliner, like it’s just another Tuesday night.
“Your brother likes to steal cars and sell them for parts. Among other
things.”
I even did it with him for a while. I was pissed off at the world, and the
money was too tempting to pass up. Except I never saw a fucking dime. He
kept me indebted to him by buying me nice cars, phones, shoes, whatever. It
was nice not to have to worry about where my next meal came from for once,
but I wanted my cut, and I told him that. He made excuses at first. It was
always something. But still, I did his bidding. I was the youngest and the
fastest. He could tell I was pulling away, and he started to lose it.
And then when I really wanted out, he got pissed that I wasn’t doing his
dirty work anymore. He and his lowlife friends took turns beating the shit out
of me, not even stopping when I vomited from the pain. When they were
finally done, I was unable to move, unable to open my eyes. I’m pretty sure
he thought I was dead. He left me for dead.
I lay there, bleeding in the dirt, in a pile of my own puke, until the sun set
and rose again. Once I could walk, I hobbled back to David’s house when I
knew he’d be gone and stole his chunk of cash. Booked a cheap hotel room
for a few nights until I could move without being in pain and then took a cab
to the bus station. When the lady asked for my destination, I told her I didn’t
care. I just needed the first bus out of there. I met Dare on the bus, and the
rest is history.
But I don’t say all that. No one knows those fucked-up details but me.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” my dad admits, bringing me back to our
conversation.
I wipe the blood off my mouth with the back of my hand before I realize
that it’s pointless. My hands are just as bad as my face. I should’ve hurt him
more. I should’ve made him pay. Instead, I let him fucking walk away.
“Why’d you come back?” John asks, looking like he’s on the verge of
falling asleep.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Had a feeling.”
He opens one eye and assesses me. “Well,” he says after a long beat, “I’m
glad you did.”

M y jaw aches—either from taking the hit or clenching it so hard the

entire drive home, I’m not sure—as I haul ass down the dimly lit
streets of the neighborhood. I glance at the dash, and the time isn’t much
more than a blur of neon blue, thanks to the swelling in my right eye. Two oh
eight A.M.
I swing into the driveway with one, single thought. Briar. But I slam my
bloody fist into my steering wheel when I notice that Adrian’s car is here,
too, which means Dash is still awake.
My body is moving faster than my brain can catch up, and then I’m
sneaking around the side of the house and wedging Briar’s window up with
the heels of my palms. My head swims as I hoist myself up and through the
window, but I ignore it. My boots hit the hardwood floor, and Briar gasps,
sitting up in her bed. volviendo a los inicios :)
 “It’s me,” I say quickly.
“Ash? What happened?” Her voice is a whisper, and though the dark
works to my advantage, I know she can sense that something is wrong.
This scene is all too familiar. Me wounded and belligerent. Her
unwavering concern for me.
I stand there unmoving, unspeaking. I know what I want, but I don’t want
to ask for it. Don’t know how to ask for it. But Briar knows, because she lifts
her blanket in invitation.
Right now, I don’t care about our pasts. I don’t care about the bad
decision she made back then, or the numerous bad ones I’ve made since. All I
care about is crawling into her bed and leeching off her quiet and calm.
Wordlessly, I kick my boots off, then unbutton my jeans, dropping them
to the floor along with my keys. Briar says nothing. She’s completely still as
she watches me. Her messy blonde hair is everywhere, and the moonlight
shining through her window allows me to see the outline of her nipples
beneath her thin, white tank top.
We lock eyes, and she sucks her bottom lip in a nervous gesture. I reach
behind my neck, pulling my black T-shirt over my head, letting it fall to join
the rest of my shit. Closing the distance between us, I slip in beside her.
Briar lies on her side, facing me, and her fingers reach out to touch my
face. I intercept her, directing her hand away from my wounds, and instead,
she curls her fingers into the short hair at the nape of my neck.
“Turn around, Bry,” I rasp, lowering my head to hide my face. She
massages the back of my head, and fuck, it’s probably the most affectionate
gesture I’ve ever received.
“Talk to me,” she murmurs pleadingly. “You’re drunk.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pry her hand from me, holding it away in a
tight grip.
“Please.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper, and then her nose grazes mine. I
don’t pull back, so she does it again, but this time, our lips brush, too. Briar
hooks a bare leg over mine, her lips touching mine with every move, every
breath, but we don’t kiss.
I’m still holding on to her wrist between us, and she twists her arm to
bring my hand to the curve of her hip. Her shirt has ridden up, and I feel the
warmth of her skin against my calloused hands. I shouldn’t be able to touch
anything this pure, I think to myself. I’ll only taint it. YOU WONT
 Despite the fucked-up events of tonight, I’m hard as a rock. I want
nothing more than to bend her over, shove inside, and forget all the bullshit.
But she’s not Whitley. She’s not any of those girls. This is Briar, and she is
fucking everything, even if she is a little liar.
“Turn around, Briar,” I say, firmer this time, as I physically turn her over,
then lock my arms around her waist. Her firm ass settles right on my cock,
and I fight the urge to grind against her. If I were a little less exhausted and a
lot less fucked up, things would go very differently.
Her fingers trace mine, and I know that she feels the gashes and tacky
half-dried blood, but she doesn’t speak. I wait for her breathing to even out
before I dip my head forward, inhaling her scent and pressing my lips to the
back of her neck. It isn’t long before I start to drift off, too content to care
about the consequences that tonight might bring. ay dio mio manda una se;al

BRIAR
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up, but the sun has just barely
started to peek over the mountains in the distance, so I know it must be
before six.
I look down at the hand flattened against my stomach, halfway under my
shirt. He’s really here. He’s still here. I almost expected him to be gone when
I woke up, leaving me to wonder if it was all just a dream.
Carefully, I lift his hand to inspect the damage that I felt last night, and I
notice streaks of dried blood on my stomach, on my shirt, my hip, and as I
turn around to face his sleeping form, I see that it’s on my white sheets, too.
Jesus, Asher. What did you do this time?
Underneath his nose is also caked with blood, and his right eye is bruised
and swollen. I lightly kiss his knuckles before leaning forward to do the same
to the corner of his eye, and then I feel his hands squeeze my ass, pulling me
into him.
“Mmm,” I moan, dragging my hands through his hair and dropping my
head back as he peppers open-mouthed kisses all over my neck, shoulders,
and chest. He rolls me onto my back and settles between my spread legs,
letting me feel his want for me.
 Something about this time just feels…different. More intense. More real.
We still haven’t spoken. We let our bodies do the talking, and in this
moment, we’re the most honest we’ve ever been with each other. We show
each other everything we’re feeling with our gasps and tongues and teeth.
Asher shifts down slightly to take my nipple into his mouth and sucks it
through the fabric of my shirt. God, I love when he does that. I arch into his
hot mouth, and he brings both hands up to squeeze my breasts. Flattening his
palms, he smooths them up my chest and over my shoulders to push the thin
straps of my shirt down my arms.
With his forefinger, he pulls down the top of my tank, exposing one pink
nipple. Looking up at me for the first time, he closes his mouth around the
hardened tip and bites before licking and sucking away the sting. I feel
myself growing slick at the mixture of pain and pleasure that Asher is so
skilled at, and I shamelessly lock my legs around his waist, rubbing myself
against him.
Ash reaches behind him, grasps one ankle, and unlocks my legs before
moving down my body, kissing everything along the way. My heart hammers
in my chest, and goose bumps assault my arms and stomach as he gets lower
and lower.
This is something we’ve never done before, something I’ve never had
done to me, but I’m too far gone to be nervous. I just want him. I want it all
from him. Everything he has to give me, before he decides to take it all away,
again.
Once he settles between my thighs, he pushes them open with a hand on
each one, squeezing the soft flesh. Lowering his head, he rolls his face
between my legs, then nibbles at my panty-covered clit.
Holy shit.
My hips rock against his face on their own accord, chasing that delicious
friction. Asher hooks a finger inside my plain black underwear, pulling the
crotch to the side, and exposes me to him completely.
He pauses, and I see his throat bob as he swallows. I think he’s going to
say something cocky, or maybe make me beg for it, but he just stares for a
moment, looking conflicted, yet mesmerized. Angry, yet excited all at the
same time.
I squirm under his attention, needing to feel more—to feel everything
with him. Asher pushes my legs together before pulling my underwear down
to my ankles. Smoothing his hands back up my closed legs, he spreads me,
ever so slightly, with his thumbs. My entire body is trembling from my toes
to my chin, but it’s not out of fear. I’m literally shaking with need.
“My beautiful little liar,” Ash breathes before closing the final distance
and places a wet kiss on my clit. I suck in a breath at the feeling of his mouth
on me. God, I didn’t know anything could be this good. I try to spread my
legs for better access, but Asher keeps them clamped shut with a hand on
either thigh.
I look down at him, confusion painting my features, but then his tongue
slides in between my lower lips. My back bows off the bed, and Asher’s
bruising grip on my legs keeps me anchored to the bed. To the earth.
“Quit squirming, baby,” he mumbles between my thighs.
Baby. Not taunting. Not baby girl. Not little girl. Baby.
I tangle my fingers through his perfectly disheveled hair as he devours
me, needing him closer. But we’ll never be close enough. His tongue flattens
against me, and with a few long strokes, I’m tensing up, ready to combust.
“Asher,” I say, tilting his chin up to look at me. “I don’t want to come
like this.” My voice is a whispered plea, and I know he understands.
Asher stares up at me and brushes his thumb across my bottom lip.
“Yeah?” he asks, pushing his thumb into my mouth, eyes full of heat. I
suck on it, nodding my head, and he groans.
“How do you want to come then?”
“The only way I’ve ever wanted to. With you inside me.”
Asher’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flare, and I know that I’m finally going
to get my way.
“You play dirty, baby girl,” he says, moving up my body, bracing his
palms on either side of my head. His lips hover above mine, and I wrap my
arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I’m done talking. “Lucky for you, I
do, too.”
Asher takes my face in his hands before licking at the seam of my lips,
and I open for him, letting his tongue in to dance with mine. His movements
are unhurried and forceful. Intense, just like him. He kisses me like it’s the
main event instead of the opening act. I kiss him like he’s my oxygen, and
I’m afraid it’s going to be taken away at any moment, leaving me deprived
again.
Ash’s hand trails down my neck, and his fingers dip under my tank top,
squeezing and kneading. He circles my nipple, and I feel myself growing
slicker. Everything he does is magic. I arch into his touch, and he takes the
opportunity to pull my top over my head.
I’m laid completely bare before him, and he’s still in his boxer briefs. I
look at his tanned skin, the muscular dips and grooves of his stomach, the
veins in his arms as he holds himself over me, his stormy eyes, and I can’t
believe this is real. This is happening. He’s perfection, even bruised and
bleeding. This beautifully damaged boy is about to give me the one part of
him I’ve never had. And I’m about to give him what should’ve been his.
“Take me out,” Asher says in a strangled voice.
I slide my hands underneath the elastic and lower his boxers, smoothing
my palms over his firm ass. His dick springs out, thick, and angry and ready.
I can finally see his piercing clearly, and I realize that there is more than one.
Two tiny, straight barbells underneath the head. For the first time, I wonder
what that means for sex.
“It won’t hurt you,” Asher says, reading the thoughts that are written all
over my face.
I give a shaky nod and reach between us to run the tip of my finger across
the bars, and Asher shudders when I graze the thin skin. I bite my lip,
tentatively wrapping my fingers around him.
“Harder,” he demands and wraps his much bigger hand around mine,
roughly guiding my movements. Together, we work his length, and I notice a
bead of moisture appear at the tip. Without thinking, I swirl my thumb,
spreading it over his head, and Asher jerks in my hand.
“Fuck,” he swears, snatching my wrist and pinning it to the mattress next
to my head. “If any part of you doesn’t want this, you have two seconds to
tell me to leave.” His eyebrows pull together, and his eyes search mine for
doubt that he won’t find before roughly nudging my thighs apart with his
knees. Then I feel him there, warm and unyielding, against my sensitive skin.
“Condom?” Asher asks, dipping just the tip inside me. I wiggle closer,
trying to get more. “Briar,” he snaps, forcing me to focus. “Condom.” JAJAJJA no respondia
“I’m on the pill,” I say. “And I’m clean.” I’ve only been with Jackson,
and we used protection. I know Asher has had many partners, but some part
of me still trusts him and believes he’d never truly put me at risk. He may do
a lot of questionable things, but never that.
“Me, too,” Ash says, still only giving me shallow thrusts that drive me
crazy.
“I want to feel you,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around him and pulling
him into me. I lock eyes with pools of whiskey and jade, conflicted and guilt-
 ridden. “Please.”
Asher’s control finally, finally, breaks, and his hips snap forward, filling
me in one move. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and I close my eyes,
unprepared for how it would feel to have Asher inside me, both physically
and emotionally.
This. This is what I’ve been waiting for, and I could kill him for making
us both suffer without this for so long. I tense and Asher pauses, buried to the
hilt. He drops his forehead to mine while I adjust to the fullness. Slowly, so
slowly, with more tenderness than I knew he was capable of, Asher starts to
move. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of my head, his elbow
resting on the pillow, and the other one grips my thigh as he pumps into me.
He was right about his piercing. I can feel something, but it doesn’t hurt at
all.
“Fuck, Bry,” he groans. “I need to move, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
AY PERO “Hurt me. Please.” I love his tenderness, but I want his violence, his
anger, his pain just as much.
Ash’s jaw turns to stone, and his eyes fill with heat as he rises onto his
knees and grips my middle, impaling me. I’m so full of him that it’s painful,
but I’ll gladly take the pain because it means this is real.
“So fucking good. I knew you’d be perfect,” Asher mumbles, looking
down to where we’re connected. His hands that are almost completely
wrapped around my waist control the tempo, making my boobs bounce, and
then he lowers his head to suck on my tightened nipple. His bruised, swollen
lips against me only gets me hotter, and I feel myself clench around him.
“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he warns before pulling me
upright to straddle his lap. My hands fly to the back of his neck while he
guides my movements with his fingers digging into my hips. My clit rubs
against the base of him in this position, and I start to ride him, shamelessly,
desperately.
Ash mutters a curse and leans back on his palms. He sucks his lip in
between his perfect, square teeth, watching me move on top of him. I rock
my hips faster, about to shatter into a million tiny pieces, when I hear it.
A knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice.
PERO DIABLOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“You awake in there, pretty girl?”
Fuck. Adrian.
My eyes shoot to the doorknob. Locked, thank God.
Asher pushes me backward, and I yelp, causing him to cover my mouth
with his hand. He settles in between my legs and immediately starts fucking
me. Really fucking me.
“Ignore him. You’re going to come on my cock,” he whispers darkly.
My pleading eyes search his, and I shake my head.
“I can’t anymore,” I mumble from beneath his fingers. Now that I know
Adrian’s listening.
“You can and you will.”
“Your brother and I are going to get breakfast. Wanna come?” Adrian
questions from the other side of the door.
I look back to Asher, unsure of what to do.
“Answer him.” He removes his hand from my lips, and my eyes widen,
but Asher only moves faster.
“N-no,” I say, a little more high-pitched and breathless than intended.
“I’m really…tired.”
Asher smirks and leans down to bite my nipple. I moan—loudly—and I
hear a chuckle outside the room.
“Tired, huh? Okay, well, do you want us to bring you anything back?”
“God, yes,” I breathe, as I climb higher and higher.
“Yes?” Adrian asks. JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJJAJAJJA
“I mean no!”
The asshole on top of me brings his hand down to rub his thumb in just
the right spot, and that’s it. I can’t take it anymore.
“Well, which is it?” an amused Adrian questions.
I’m going to come. I can’t hold back. I finally break apart, practically
convulsing. Asher crushes his mouth to mine to muffle my screams, kissing
me deep and hard. Then he’s pulling out, spilling on my thigh with a groan.
“Goddamn,” he mutters into my ear. “You’re beautiful when you come.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling myself flush with equal parts
embarrassment and ecstasy. Ash collapses on top of me, face pressed into my
sweaty neck, and a few moments later, we hear a vehicle starting.
“Do you think he knows?” I ask dumbly.
“He’d be a fucking idiot not to.”
My heart hammers in my chest even harder now, and my panicked eyes
meet his. Except now he looks…angry.
“My brother!” It hits me that if Adrian knows, my brother is going to in
about five seconds.
“Don’t trip, Bry. I’ll handle it,” he says, rolling off me.
 The moment is gone.
The feeling is gone. AY DIO Y CUAL E EL PROBLEMA AHORA?
And why wouldn’t it be? Because the boy I knew is gone, too.
“Okay,” is all I say, feeling more vulnerable than ever as I pull the sheet
up to cover my naked self. I’m done trying. Done hoping. I just slept with the
ghost of the boy I used to love, and now I’m left feeling emptier than before.
“Okay,” he repeats, swinging his legs over the bed and pulling on his
boxers. He hastily snatches up the rest of his clothes and storms away. Once
he’s to my bedroom door, he pauses.
“Fuck!” he shouts, and I jump as his fist hits the wall next to the
doorframe, cracking the drywall. Tears spring to my eyes, and before my
vision clears, he’s gone.
And then I’m alone. With the evidence of our transgressions drying on
my thigh and tears drying to my cheek.

T wo weeks. Two weeks since I’ve laid eyes on Asher. I don’t know if
he’s not staying here anymore, or if he’s only coming around when I’m
not here. It’s safe to say we’re avoiding each other. Or at least, I was for the
first week. I stayed with Nat, not wanting to run into any of the boys who
occupy my house at any given moment.
I’ll admit it. I wallowed. Nat listened to the whole story, only interjecting
to offer to kill him and throw out the occasional expletive, like any self-
respecting best friend should. Then, she threw me the best pity party, full of
Netflix and wine and pizza. The second day was full of manicures, pedicures,
massages, followed by shopping at her mother’s boutique. It stung knowing
Asher regretted sleeping with me before our breathing even returned to
normal, but buying pretty lingerie and being pampered helps even the most
broken of hearts. Mine was just a little bruised. ME TIENEN HARTA
Now, though, I’m not sad. I’m angry. No, I’m fucking pissed. I’ve done
nothing wrong. So, I decided to go home. It’s my home, after all. When I saw
Dash later that night, he asked what I was doing staying with Nat for so long,
and I blamed it on her, saying that she was going through something. He gave
me a look that screamed bullshit, but he didn’t push. And surprisingly, he
didn’t allude to knowing about Ash and me.
 Now, I sit on the couch in the living room with my laptop on my crossed
legs, attempting to decide on where I want to go to college and what I want to
study. I startle when Adrian comes waltzing through my front door. He’s
wearing a plain, loose, white tank top, dark jeans, and black, designer
sunglasses. Even when he’s in casual attire, he looks like a million bucks.
Adrian smiles, his deep dimples on display, and plops down next to me
on the couch like he owns the place.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, taking off his sunglasses and giving me an
expectant look.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he says with a wink.
“Don’t you have a job?” I say, avoiding that statement altogether.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Ughhhh,” I huff dramatically and close my laptop. “What do you think
you know?” I cut my eyes at him, giving him my best death glare.
“I know that I thought I caught you in the middle of your, you know, me
time,” he says the words with air quotes, wagging his brows. “Until we
walked outside and saw Kelley’s truck. Weird, though, since we didn’t see
him come in.”
I roll my eyes, dropping my head to the back of the couch.
“Don’t worry. I told Dash that he was asleep in the media room and that
he wouldn’t wake up to come with us.”
What? My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Why would you cover for me?” I ask, genuinely confused. They’re best
friends. More like brothers.
“It’s not for you. I was hungry and didn’t want to get held up.” He shrugs.
“Besides, that asshole Kelley is just as much my friend as Dash is, whether
he wants to admit it or not.” AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
W
I think back to the day on the lake and how Adrian wanted to help me get
Asher’s attention.
“Why are you pushing this?” I ask him, suddenly wary of his motives.
“Dude deserves some good in his life. Besides, we’ll never get rid of
AWWWWWWWWW X2
Whitley if she thinks she has a chance with one of us.”
One of us? a pero e como el coronaviru, a to el mundo se le pega
“Oh my God, did you hook up with her, too?!” I slap his chest.
“You don’t even want to know.” He grins, squeezing my knee. “Trust me
on this one.”
 “Gross.”
“Downright filthy.”
If the rumors are true, this means she’s hooked up with all three of the
boys in my life. Ash, my brother—yeah, found that out last summer—and
now Adrian. My nails cut into my palms as I clench my fists. Why won’t she
just go away?
“Calm down, little killer.” Adrian laughs, reaching over to uncurl my
fingers, and then leans back, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee
table. He pulls on my hand, and I lie back with my head on his shoulder,
kicking my own feet up. “You don’t have anything to worry about with her.”
I’m not so sure, I think, but instead, I say, “I’m not worried. Thoroughly
disgusted,” I add, “but not worried. Where’s my brother, by the way?”
“Should be pulling up any minute. He had to drop his truck off at the
shop, so he called Kelley to pick him up.”
Fuck. My first instinct is to dread seeing him, but some pathetic part of
me still feels a thrill run through me at the thought of it.
“We’re gonna hit up the club later tonight,” Adrian explains.
“The club?” I snort. Imagining Asher at a club is straight-up laughable. I
can just see him there, hating life, arms crossed in the corner. But my amused
smile melts away when I imagine what would inevitably happen next.
Gorgeous girls. Short skirts. High heels. Wanting one night with the bad boy
with sad eyes. asi e
“Yes, the club,” he says, mimicking me in a high-pitched, Valley Girl
voice. “I need some pussy tonight, and I’m sick of the same old places and
faces. I need fresh meat.” JAJJAJAJAJJAJAJA
J
“What you need, sir, is a damn filter. And condoms. Lots of condoms.” I
roll my eyes and cross one ankle over the other.
“And what you need is my d—” Before he’s able to finish what’s sure to
PERO BUENO
be an inappropriate remark, the door opens and Dash and Asher walk in.
holy mother
Holy. Shit.
He’s wearing black jeans—not skinny jeans, but more form-fitting than
I’ve ever seen on him—with holes in the knees, a dark green V-neck that
hugs his biceps, and his trusty black combat boots. His signature unruly hair
is styled and pushed back off his forehead. He’s going out looking like that—
meanwhile, I’m not old enough to get in even if I was invited.
That pang of anxiety about him going out morphs into pure, ugly
jealousy. The kind that turns your stomach to lead and makes your ears hot.
The thought of Asher hooking up with anyone, ever turns my stomach, but
hooking up with someone three seconds after we slept together? That thought
makes it hard to breathe, especially since he clearly wasn’t happy with what I
had to offer.
Dash and Adrian jump into making plans for the night, but I don’t hear a
word they say. I’m still stuck in my head when I finally look Asher in the
eye, only to realize he’s staring at Adrian and me with narrowed eyes,
looking more than a little suspicious. Lifting my head off Adrian’s shoulder, I
stand, and he reflexively extends his hand to help me step over his
outstretched legs while still in conversation with Dash.
“Briar,” Dash says my name, just as I’m about to turn down the hall
toward my room. I pause, looking over my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yep. I was a little disappointed over a boy.” I turn and aim a pointed
look at Ash. “But he turned out to be kind of a douche, anyway.” Asher’s jaw
ticks once, then he looks away.
“Jackson? The fuck did he do?” my brother says, instantly riled up.
“Not Jackson,” I’m quick to assure. He’s texted me here and there, but I
haven’t responded. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m over it.” y yo me llamo
juana
Lie, lie, lie.
Not wanting to stick around for their inevitable pre-gaming, I stalk off to
my room and text Nat.
Me: I need you. JAJAJJAJAJJAJAJAJ
Nat: Is this you finally coming out of the closet? A
Me: Not today. When are you getting here?
Nat: Pulling up in 2.5.
Me: Tell me you brought alcohol.
Nat: Among other things…
Me: Low-key suspicious of your “other things,” but I love you
anyway. Come straight to my room when you get here.
Five minutes later, Nat arrives, arms full of bags, looking frazzled.
“Damn, your brother looks good tonight,” she says, unloading different
bottles and jars of things onto my long, white dresser. “I almost got pregnant
just from walking past him.” JAJSJJSAKSJAKKJSKS
J
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” I laugh, picking up a jar of
maraschino cherries. “What’s all this?”
“I jacked a bottle of vodka from my mom, then I decided to get fancy and
googled different cocktails…” She digs her phone out of her shorts pocket
and taps a few times before turning the screen for me to see. “I present to
you…the Cherry Blossom.”
“God, yes. You are my favorite. Let’s take this party to the pool.”
I dig through my drawer full of bathing suits and pull out one in a peachy
color for me, and toss a mint one in Nat’s direction. Some girls collect shoes
or purses or jewelry. Arizona girls collect swimming suits for every occasion.
After getting changed, we grab the vodka, grenadine, cherries, and pink
lemonade before heading to the kitchen to get cups and ice. As I’m filling our
glasses, Dash and Adrian appear.
“We’re leaving,” Dash says, eying our little setup. “Lock the door behind
us and do not get drunk if you’re going to be swimming alone.” He points a
stern finger in my direction and then Nat’s, making sure we’re both clear.
“Yes, Dad,” I say, barely containing my eye roll. The hypocrite’s favorite
pastime is drinking and swimming.
“Hey, Natalia,” Adrian says, looking her up and down. “Do you have any
Mexican in you?” JAJAJJAJAJAJAJJA ETA GENTE SON EL FINAL
“No. I’m fucking Italian,” she scoffs.
“Do you want some?” He wiggles his brows, and I bust out laughing. Nat
rolls her eyes, but she’s unable to smother her grin.
I look back to Adrian, expecting to see his perpetually amused smile, but
instead, he looks uncomfortable and maybe even a little pissed off. And he’s
staring directly over my shoulder. DIABLO PERO NO SE CANSAN DE PONER HUEVO E

I hear Asher’s boots slapping against the tile floor, but what I don’t
expect to hear is a pair of decidedly feminine footsteps click-clacking behind
his. I turn, moving in slow motion like something out of a horror movie.
Except this is real life and so much worse. Whitley is, once again, in my
fucking house. Dark hair, sleek and parted down the middle, flat ironed to
perfection. Pale breasts pushed up to her chin. My smile melts away.
“You have got to be fucking shitting me, right?” This comes from Nat. “If
I’m ever too dense to realize that I’m not wanted somewhere, please tell me.”
She looks Whitley up and down before adding, “Better yet, just shoot me.”
I’m afraid to say a word, to even make a move, in fear of everyone seeing
right through me. Dash, luckily, is thrown off enough by Nat’s reaction that
he doesn’t pay me any attention. Adrian angles himself in front of me in a
defensive stance, under the guise of making himself a drink. Whitley looks
victorious, and Asher looks…the same. His face is completely devoid of any
emotion. He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed or contrite, and
that right there is what hurts the most.
I’m stuck, fighting to keep my emotions in check. I want to tell Dash that
I don’t want her here, but that would lead to unwanted questions. But, this is
my house, and I shouldn’t have to be blindsided on my own turf.
“Welp, you assholes have fun tonight!” Nat says in a cheery voice, no
doubt sensing me flounder. She grabs our drinks, handing me one before
trying to usher me out back.
“We will!” Whitley pipes up, leaning forward to pluck a rogue piece of
ice that fell to the counter and sucks on it in an embarrassingly transparent
attempt at being seductive. “Too bad you guys can’t tag along, but you know,
it’s twenty-one and up and all. Grown-ups only.” She fake pouts, careful not
to say anything that can be seen as outright offensive in front of my brother,
and I stop in my tracks.
Fuck it.
I pivot back around on my bare toes. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t want to get
in the way of your fun,” I say with a pointed look and gesture to the white
residue coating her left nostril. “Clean it up, coke whore.” Whitley’s hand
flies to hide her nose, her shocked expression quickly morphing into one of
contempt.
“I don’t want to see her in our house again,” I say, focusing my attention
on Dash.
I try to catch Ash’s eye to gauge his reaction. If he’s surprised or
disappointed, it doesn’t show. I don’t know what would be worse. Doing
drugs with Whitley in my bathroom, or doing her in my bathroom.
“Agreed,” Dash says, crossing his arms. “What the fuck are you thinking,
bringing that shit around my baby sister?”
Or, you know, at all.
“Annnnd, that’s our cue to leave,” Nat drawls out, and this time, I listen.
Adrian gives me an awkward head pat as I walk past, like he wants to
comfort me but doesn’t quite know how, and Dash casts me a suspicious look
—seeing through my shitty façade—that says we’ll talk about this later. I
give him a short, reluctant nod before walking out to the pool without sparing
a backward glance.
 uck him,” I announce for what is probably the eighteenth time in the past two
hours.

“F “I concur. Fuck him with something hard and sandpaper-y,” Nat

agrees, blowing out a cloud of smoke from the blunt between her
fingertips. Turns out, this is the “other things” she mentioned earlier. Nat is
JAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJAJA
pretty much the female Snoop in that sense. It’s not usually my thing. Not
that I have anything against it, I just always end up eating everything in a ten-
mile radius, then passing out—in that order. Tonight seemed like a good
night for it, though.
“Without lube,” I add, and we both erupt into a fit of laughter. The pool
deck is cool against my skin, but the pool that I’m swishing my feet through
feels more like bath water. I look up at the stars as our giggles fade into the
night, feeling content to stay in this spot until morning. Until forever. We lie
in comfortable silence for a few minutes, side by side, before I break the
quiet.
“I think something bad happened to Asher…and I think it’s my fault,” I
whisper, voicing my fear aloud for the first time.
“What?” Nat coughs, turning on her side to face me. I stay on my back,
eyes on the stars. “Why would you even think that?”
“I don’t know,” I say, dragging my fingers through my hair. “He keeps
insinuating that I’ve betrayed him somehow, and there’s only one thing I can
think of.” I’ve never told anyone this before. Not Natalia. Not Dash. And
definitely not Asher.
“Okaaay,” she says warily.
“I was so upset when he left, Nat. You have no idea. I felt abandoned and
hurt and so stupid for ever thinking he could return my feelings. After he left,
I rode my bike over to his house. I guess I couldn’t believe that he was really
gone. But then, I saw his dad in the window, stumbling through the living
room, and it all shifted. I just wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him for
hurting Asher.
“I hated him in that moment. Every bad thing that ever happened to Ash
was because of him, or at least that’s what I thought back then. So, I picked
up a rock and threw it right through his window.”
“You what?!” Nat sputters out a laugh.
“I totally did.” Despite my mood, I feel my lips tugging into a grin at the
memory. “And it felt good for a whole two seconds.”
“What happened then? And why did you say that’s what you thought
back then?”
I exhale loudly, feeling particularly ashamed about this part.
“Instead of running, I just stared him down through his open window like
a creep. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t afraid of him. But, he ended up
telling me that I needed to fix his window or else he’d tell my parents what
I’d done.”
“You didn’t.” Nat cackles. “Only you, Briar Vale, would bust someone’s
window and then put it back together.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t want them finding out. You know how
my mom is about keeping up appearances, and my dad and Dash were
constantly at each other’s throats then.” Nat nods, because she knows better
than anyone. “I did the shittiest job in the history of ever. I had no idea what I
was doing. I thought I’d show up and he’d at least give me some kind of
direction, but nope.” The word pops from my lips. “He just sat in that
recliner, waiting for me to figure it out.”
“Anyway, it took a while, and in that time, he told me stories that made
me see things…differently. Things that I’m not even sure Ash knows. I still
hated him for how he treated Ash, but for the first time, I realized that
nothing was black and white. People are flawed, and sometimes, good
intentions aren’t enough.”
“I realized fairly quickly that he wasn’t doing well. So, I checked on him
a couple of times a month, brought him food, made sure he had clean
laundry, and he’d tell me stories about Asher as a kid. It made me feel closer
to Ash.” ay tu que buena gente

Dash told me about John having liver cancer, and I wondered if that’s
what had been wrong with him. If I would have said something, insisted he
go to the doctor, maybe, would he still be dying right now?
“But how does that make what happened your fault?”
“I don’t know.”
And I don’t. I don’t even know what happened, but it’s the only thing I
have to go on that makes even a little sense.
Suddenly, there’s a splash at the opposite end of the pool, and we both
scream and sit up, not having heard anyone come out here. I squint my eyes,
trying to make out the details in the dim patio lighting. All I can see is a mop
of dark hair, and broad, powerful shoulders gliding through the water. Asher. epa, se vienen
Sure enough, it’s Asher that comes up, stopping directly before us. HisATDMV vibez
shirt is molded to his chest, showing off the muscles in his arms and stomach,
and his hair hangs in his eyes. Water drips down the bridge of his nose, onto
those full lips. He stares directly at me, not breaking eye contact when he
reaches for the towel bunched up next to me and rubs it across his face and
hair before tossing it back to the deck.
Ash reaches over, plucking the blunt from Nat’s hand, and takes a big hit.
“You can leave now,” he says, eyes still focused on me.
Nat looks to me, silently questioning whether I want her to go or not. I
give her a nod, and she stands, pointing a finger in Ash’s direction. “Break
her heart again, and I’ll break your dick.” She knows better than to wait for a
response, so she walks off. QUE LA AMO AJJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJJAA

Ash takes another couple of hits before flicking it behind him to land in
the pool.
“How did you get here?” His truck has a very loud, distinct sound that
I’ve memorized over the past few weeks. I didn’t hear a thing…until he dove
into my pool, anyway.
“Cab. Rode with your brother and Adrian. They weren’t ready to come
home yet. I was.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to make of that. I wonder what Whitley thought
about that, but I don’t care enough to ask.
“Funny,” he says, in a way that lets me know what he’s about to say isn’t
going to be funny at all, “you made such a big deal about Whitley doing blow
— meanwhile, you’re out here getting high.”
“Please. Weed isn’t a drug. Not really.”
“The point is, you’re not only a liar, but now you can add hypocrite to the
list. That’s a far cry from the perfect little Briar that I used to know.” Asher
stalks toward me, and I put my foot out to keep him from getting too close.
His words cause something to snap, and I’m suddenly so sick of his vague
put-downs.
“What the hell did I do to you, Asher?! Just spit it out already or shut up
about it!” He comes closer, my foot pressing against his chest. si porque me tienes un poco harta
“Maybe I want you to spit it out. To take responsibility for something for
once in your privileged little life,” he grits out.
“I’m done playing these games.” My voice is quiet. Resigned. “We’ll
keep going around and around on this merry-go-round forever if one of us
doesn’t get off. I’m getting off, Ash.” I push off his chest and twist my body
to stand up, but before I can do so, his hand grips my ankle and he yanks.
Hard. My ass slides across the smooth stone deck, and then I’m in the water,
wrapped around him.
“You’re getting off, all right,” he says menacingly, locking his arms
around me to keep me in place. “But not in the way you think.” PERO MMG
I struggle against him, unlatching my legs and trying to slide down his
body. My center rubs against his abs, and then I feel something harder
prodding at me.
“You don’t make any sense,” I say, feeling more confused than ever.
“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you despise me.”
“I don’t have to like you to fuck you, baby girl.”WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
“You fucked me and left me,” I remind him. My voice cracks, and I hope
he doesn’t catch it. “You ignored me for weeks, then you bring her to my
house.”
No longer struggling to get away, my legs float lifelessly on either side of
him, and his hands start kneading my ass, making me rub against him again.
“I heard what you said about John,” he says, calling his father by his first
name like always, and my body goes rigid, eyes go wide. I have no idea how
he’s going to react to hearing that I not only saw his dad after he left, but
inadvertently ended up with some sort of unlikely friendship. Although,
friendship might be too strong a word for the relationship I had with John. It
was complicated and unconventional, but we had both lost Asher, even if his
actions were the catalyst.
“Seems you’re keeping more secrets than I thought.” He rubs my sides up
and down before tugging the strings on my bottoms, causing them to fall off.
“That’s it, I swear,” I say on a gasp.
“You’re a liar, Briar.” He licks a tear that I didn’t know was there as his
hand curves around my butt cheek and two fingers circle my entrance before
hooking inside me. My head drops to the soaked shirt plastered to his
shoulder, and I grind against his fingers. “But I want you, anyway.” AY NO DECIDANSE
Before I can respond, he frees himself from his pants, and I’m sliding
down his formidable length. A moan slips free as my arms wrap around his
neck, holding his head to my chest, and my legs lock around his waist. I’m so
full of Asher, physically, emotionally, mentally. This is pathetic. No matter
how many times he burns me, I go back for more. I need him like a bad habit
—one that I don’t want to kick. He cradles me—one hand wrapped around
my waist, the other forearm spans the length of my spine, and his fingers curl
around my shoulder—holding me close as he pumps into me. Using his teeth,
he pulls the thin triangle of my top to reveal my nipple that hardens in
response to the night air. Asher sucks it into his mouth, reaching to untie the
strings around my back and neck.
My movements become a little more frantic—a little jerkier—as I grind
against him, using my weightlessness in the water to my advantage.
“Fuck,” Ash groans after pulling away from my chest. Gripping me by
the waist, he abruptly lifts me to sit on the edge of the pool again.
“What?” I ask breathlessly. He can’t stop now.
“Spread your knees and put your heels on the edge.” It’s an order, and
I’m all too eager to comply, scooting close to the edge and leaning back on
my palms. Ash peels his T-shirt off and flings it. Before I hear the wet plop
of it landing, his hot mouth meets my slick center. I jerk forward, and he
grips my ankles, chuckling darkly, holding me in place.
His tongue takes another long swipe, and my head falls back at the
sensation. I’m completely naked, on display for anyone who might decide to
walk out here as Asher eats me wildly, savagely. He laps at me, from top to
bottom and everywhere in between. Releasing one of my ankles, he uses his
free hand to fist his length. Asher pulls back to look at me as he strokes
himself, the glistening head of his cock barely visible above the surface, but I
can still make out the glint of his piercings.
“Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he mutters before diving back in.
The sight of him working himself, getting off to tasting me, has me gripping
his head, holding him in place.
“Make me come, Asher,” I beg in a voice that I don’t even recognize.
“Gladly.”
His fist around his cock moves faster, and then he’s shoving two fingers
inside me as he pulls my clit between his teeth and sucks.
I explode, unable to keep quiet and uncaring of the repercussions, as
Asher groans, his own release spilling into the pool.

no.los.entiendo
 CHAPTER 7

ASHER

B riar slumps back to the deck, completely boneless, as I hoist myself

up and over the edge. I struggle to pull my soaked jeans off, opting
to leave my boxers on for now. Through it all, she doesn’t make any
move to get up.
Briar’s outstretched arms lie limp at her sides, her bare tits heave, and
goose bumps prickle her skin. Her eyes are closed, wet lashes hitting the tops
of her cheeks, and her plump lips are parted. My dick jerks, already wanting
round two. y tu me tiene un poco harta
Fuck, I need to get it together. This girl is fucking with my head. I don’t
know how to feel about her little story about my dad. My initial reaction was
to go find a wall to smash my fist through. Not only did she have me sent
away and stripped me out of my chance at college, but then she spent time
with the person she was so concerned about? John conveniently left that part
out. Briar wants to see the good in everyone. That’s just who she is. Was.
Fuck, I don’t know anymore. Who knows what lies John filled her pretty
little head with, and she probably fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Not even
that could keep me from wanting her, though.
I don’t know why I let Dash and Adrian talk me into going to the East
Side tonight. Clubs aren’t my scene, and the whole time all I could picture
was Briar’s face when she saw Whitley and me walking out of the bathroom
together. Then, I got mad at myself for giving a shit how she felt. Nothing
happened—of fucking course, nothing happened because I wouldn’t even
 JAJAAJAJAJAJAAAJAAJAAJA
touch Whitley with someone else’s dick—but even if I wanted to explain,
Dash might wonder why I’m defending myself to his little sister.
The second Whitley showed up, sniffling, bouncing from foot to foot, and
talking a mile a minute, I knew she was coked-up. I know because I used to
do it with her. So, when she decided to go powder her nose—literally—I
followed her and tore her a new asshole for doing that shit here. I honestly
don’t know why any of us put up with her anymore. She used to be cool,
once upon a time, and like the horny, asshole teenagers that we were, we took
advantage of the fact that she threw herself at us. But then, she got into drugs,
and while I’m guilty of partaking, it was never a problem for me. Whitley
definitely has a problem, and I think we all just feel stuck with her, and
tolerate her, like a drunk uncle during the holidays.
Whatever the fuck Briar and I are doing is pointless. There are too many
obstacles standing in the way for this to end well. Allowing Briar to believe
that I invited her, yet again, or that we hooked up, was my way of ending shit
between us. Yet, here I am, scooping her listless body into my arms and
carrying her through the house and back to her room right after finding out
that her betrayal goes even deeper than I thought. Because I can’t fucking
quit her.
I went back to River’s Edge for two weeks to do just that. I took on
another job and caught up with Dare and our other friends. I just needed some
distance, to recalibrate without Briar inadvertently seducing me at every turn.
But the time away has done nothing to dull the attraction. Three years didn’t
do it, so it was stupid to think two weeks would suffice.
“What are you doing?” she asks, covering herself with one arm. The other
curls around the back of my neck.
“Taking you to bed,” I say, kicking her bedroom door open.
“Are you staying with me?”
I falter, not expecting the question, before looking down at her big blue
eyes.
“Do you want me to?”
Briar nods wordlessly, and I lay her down before taking off my boxers.
She arches a brow.
“I’m not sleeping in wet clothes,” I explain, and she bites her lip, looking
directly at my cock.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn.
“Or what?”
 “Or else I’ll fuck you again, and this time, I won’t hold back.”
“You’ve been holding out on me?” she asks, a playful lilt to her voice. I
groan and climb into bed next to her.
“Don’t tempt me. Go to sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, nuzzling her way under my arm and resting her
head on my chest.
“Comfy?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my tone.
“Mhm.”
We’re both silent, her naked body against mine, as I trace her soft skin
from her ribs to the curve in her hip. I’m drifting off when I hear her whisper,
“I’ve missed you.” PERO SILENCIO
You can’t miss something you never had, but I don’t correct her, because
I feel it, too. Being with Briar like this feels like what I’ve been missing my
entire life.
It’s a shame it won’t last.
PERO LAKRE TAS

JAAAAAJJAJAJAJJAAJJAAAJAJAJ MALAAAAAAA

I wake up, my mouth drier than Gandhi’s flip-flop, to curious, delicate

fingers, tentatively skimming the sensitive underside of my cock. Briar
traces my frenum piercings, and I groan at the sensation, my hips jerking
forward of their own volition. Her eyes snap up to mine.
I got these piercings on a drunken dare before I was even old enough.
Adrian’s doing, of course. Instead of simply accepting the challenge, I had to
show off by getting two. I figured I could remove them, but it turns out they
make sex a lot more fun. And right now, as Briar plays with me like I’m her
new favorite toy, I’m definitely not regretting it. gracias por la aclaracion
“Good morning,” she says, part seductress, part innocent, before she licks
the length of my dick. I shudder when her tongue brushes over my barbells,
bringing my hands to rest behind my head.
“I’d say so.” My hips flex. Briar flicks underneath the tip with her tongue
a couple of times before closing her mouth around me.
“Wrap your hand around it,” I say. She does as instructed, her tiny fist
working my shaft while her mouth works my head.
“Yeah. Fuck yeah, like that. Squeeze harder.”
She does.
 “Look at me. Let me see those pretty blues while your perfect lips are
wrapped around my cock.”
I’m already close to coming, but when her eyes meet mine, I’m ready to
flip her over and bury myself inside her. I start to do just that, but then I hear
a voice that stops us both dead in our tracks.
ME CASO EN LA MADREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
“Hello? Where are my children, and what has happened to my house?”
“Oh my God,” Briar whispers, panic infused in her voice. “What is my
mom doing here? You have to go!”
“No shit,” I say, already feeling around on the floor next to the bed for
my boxers. Fuck. We left our clothes by the pool. And a blunt. And alcohol
and my semen, but who’s counting? Briar grabs a white dress out of her
drawer that looks like something the old Briar would wear and carelessly
pulls it over her head before smoothing out her just-fucked hair.JAJAJA SIGAN DE CUCA ALEGRE
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispers, pulling her underwear up her legs. “I’ll see
you later.”
Knowing we don’t have time for pleasantries, I give her a nod before I
crawl through the window and jump down, ready to hit the back entrance for
my keys and clothes. Before I can take a single step, Briar jerks me back by
my shoulder, catching me off guard. She smashes her lips to mine, her hands
gripping my hair, and kisses the shit out of me. She sucks on my tongue, and
when I nip at her bottom lip, she moans into my mouth. She pulls back
slightly, lips puffy, cheeks flushed, and eyes wild, ending the kiss just as
abruptly as it began.
“Come see me tonight?” she asks, nervously sucking on her lip. Only our
foreheads touch, and my hands are braced on either side of the window
frame. Those four insignificant words trip me up. I’ve never had anyone
waiting for me, wanting to see me, not for anything other than a quick fuck,
at least. I take that back. I’ve never wanted anyone waiting on me. I’ve had
the occasional stage-five clinger, and with anyone else, it always felt like the
walls were closing in on me. But, when Briar does it, I feel like maybe I have
a place in this world. AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
My initial thought is to say no. I tell myself that I shouldn’t let her get
attached. But who the fuck am I kidding? We’re beyond attached. She’s in
my head, my fucking veins, and in whatever’s left of my heart, whether either
one of us likes it or not.
“I’ll be here.”
 CHAPTER 8

BRIAR

T he moment Asher walks away, my mom barges into my room. I whip

around, trying to look casual as I lean an elbow on the windowsill. SO CASUAL
“What happened to your hair?” she gasps, pinching the strands
between two fingers to inspect it.
“Nice to see you, too, Mom,” I say, leaning in for an obligatory hug.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry. Am I no longer allowed in my own home?” she asks, dramatic
as ever.
“You know what I mean,” I say, barely containing my eye roll. Mom
sighs, smoothing my hair out of my face.
“You’d know if you ever picked up your phone. Your father is speaking
at the Smiles 4 Kids gala tonight.”
My dad may not be up for the father of the year award any time soon, but
he still manages to impress me from time to time. I remember hearing about
this fundraiser, but I’d forgotten all about it. It’s to raise money for kids,
mostly in other countries, whose families can’t afford corrective surgery. ay que bonitooo
“Oh! Where is he?”
“He had some work to do on the other side of town. We’re only here until
morning, so we’re going to stay at the event’s hotel to stay close to the
airport,” she says, pulling an envelope out of her purse. “Here are your
tickets. It starts at eight. Make sure your brother is…decent.” Decent. In other
words, sober. Dash just graduated from college and is about to start law
 school, but you’d think he was a burnout who dropped out of high school and
does nothing but party by the way my parents talk about him.
“Does Dashiell know?”
veo problems
“I’m sure you can talk him into it,” Mom says, avoiding a straight
answer. Which means that’s a negative. “It’ll mean a lot to your father.”
“Fine,” I relent. I feel guilty for ignoring her calls, and she’s only in town
for one night, so I’ll play along.
“Perfect. By the way, whose truck is that outside?” She says the word
truck like one would say dog shit as she points her manicured finger in the
direction of the driveway. JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJ
“Oh, uh, one of Dash’s friends.” Not technically a lie. “I’m pretty sure
they’re still asleep.”
“Well, you tell him I want this house back to the way I had it.”
“Will do. What’s new with you guys? How is California?”
“Oh, you know. Busy,” she says vaguely. “We’ll talk later. I have a hair
appointment to get to.” She kisses my cheek, and I stand to walk her out.
“Oh, and Briar, I almost forgot to tell you. You have a date for tonight.”
Uh, what? YO WHAT
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re seeing that Jackson boy, aren’t you? His mother is also
attending, and she said he’d love to escort you.” W T F
“Mom. No.” I shake my head. No way am I going with Jackson. “I am
not dating him. In fact, I’m going out of my way to not date him.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You can’t say no, now.”
“I didn’t say yes to begin with!” I protest, my voice rising in volume.
“Briar Victoria Vale. Two hours is all I’m asking. Two hours out of your
life to play nice for your parents that you haven’t seen in weeks. Is that too
much to ask?”
If there’s one thing Nora Vale is good at, it’s guilt-tripping. And passive-
aggressiveness. And don’t forget manipulating.
“There better be cake,” I say, defeated, plopping back down to my bed.
“I’ll make sure there’s a chocolate one just for you.” She’s joking, but I
know it’s her way of playing nice. “Now, go get showered. You smell like
bad choices, and that hair is going to take nothing short of a miracle to tame.”
“Goodbye, Mother.” I laugh.
Unfuckingbelievable. I have managed to stay away from Jackson this
JJAJAJAJAJAJAJ
whole time, and now I’m forced to go on a date with him. This should be tons
of fun.

H air curled: check. Lips in Scarlett Empress by Nars: check. Winged

liner: double check. I turn to my bed, admiring the dress I got from
Natalia’s mom’s boutique. It’s burgundy with spaghetti straps. The top is
skintight lace with a deep scalloped neckline. The bottom flares out, hitting
mid-thigh. It’s gorgeous, but the back is my absolute favorite part. The thin
straps form an “X” across my shoulder blades, leaving the rest of my back
completely bare. I pair it with black pumps, black bracelets, and a simple
black choker. It’s feminine, yet edgy, and perfect for me.
I walk into my closet to find a matching clutch, and all I can think about
is how I wish I was going to this thing with Asher instead of Jackson. But
that would never happen. Even if Asher were the suit and tie kind of guy, my
parents would probably have a coronary if I showed up on his arm. I would,
though. If Asher called me up right now and told me that he wanted to be keep
official and tell our families, I would in a heartbeat. Fuck what anyone else dreaming
thinks. The only person I’d worry about is Dash. I don’t want to hurt him.
But I think, in time, he’d come around. He’d want us both to be happy.
Would it be so bad to find happiness together?
Deciding on my black studded Michael Kors wristlet, I walk back into my
room.
“Why so blue, baby girl?” AAAAAAAAAAAAA
My head snaps up to find Asher sitting on the end of my bed.
“Jesus!” I whisper-yell, rushing over to close my bedroom door. “I need
to put a bell around your neck. You’re like a goddamn ninja.”
Asher smirks and pulls me to stand between his spread legs. His hands
grip my waist, his thumbs rubbing my stomach. My heart pounds in my
chest, and I feel myself already growing slick. My eyes close, and I lean into
his touch. His hands flatten against my stomach, then move down to grip the
hem of my dress. ay papa diooooooo
“Show me what you have on underneath.” His voice is thick and gruff,
and I nod in acquiesce. Bunching up the skirt, he exposes the black lace.
“Turn around.”
I comply, and he mutters a curse. I’m wearing a high-waisted thong that
laces up in the back, showing a lot of skin and little to imagine.
“Fuck, this ass,” he says, bringing his hands up to squeeze my cheeks in
his palms. He spins me back around to sit on his knees, my legs straddling
his. “I missed you today,” he says grudgingly, like he’s mad at me for it, as
his thumb starts to circle my clit through my panties.
“God, I missed you, too,” I say on a gasp, wrapping my arms around his
neck as he continues his ministrations.
“I know you’re not all dressed up for me,” he says, his lips ghosting
across the shell of my ear, his voice low and deadly. “Where are you going?”
I freeze, like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over my head. How
do I tell him that I have to break our plans to go on a date with someone else?
Someone that he already can’t stand.
“Briar,” he warns when I don’t respond. His thumb still rubs me.
“I have to go to this fundraiser gala for my parents tonight.”
“And?” he questions, knowing I’m not spilling everything.
“And I have to go with Jackson.”
“Say that again.” Venom laces his tone. “I must have heard you wrong. I
thought you just said that you were going on a date with the guy that your
brother and I have repeatedly warned you to stay away from.”
His thumb moves faster, pressing harder, and I can’t focus, let alone form
coherent sentences.
“It’s not like that,” I manage to get out.
“Tell me what it’s like then, Briar.” His other hand comes up to fist my
hair at the back of my head, forcing me to look at him while he continues his
interrogation as he gets me off.
I moan, my hips jerking forward on their own accord. “My mom…” I
start, but I’m lost in the sensations running through me. My body feels like a
live wire, threatening to explode at the next touch.
“Your mom?” Asher prompts, sliding his fingers underneath the lace.
“She set it up. It’s not a real date.”
“So say no.” a pero el parece que no conoce a Nora
“It’s not that easy,” I say, as a finger slips inside me. It’s slow and
teasing, enough to make me crazy, but not enough to get me off. “I have to.
I’m sorry.”
Losing patience, I grip his wrist, moving his hand at the speed I need.
“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispers, adding another finger,
pumping harder.
 “God, yes. That’s what I need, Ash.”
“Good,” he says simply, abruptly pulling back and leaving me feeling
empty. My mouth drops open, and he lifts me by the waist, plopping me
down beside him. JAJAJJAJAJA
“What are you doing?” I ask incredulously. He can’t leave me like this.
Picking up the tickets from my nightstand, he scans the information and
then drops them down on my shaking legs. “You’re going to be late. Might
want to get going.” PERO ESO NO E CULPA DE BRIAR

“You’re an asshole,” I say, standing to straighten my dress and smooth

my hair.
“So you keep telling me,” Ash deadpans.
Grabbing my wristlet, I decide to do the opposite of what he’s hoping for.
Asher wants to get a reaction out of me. He wants a fight. But I’m not going
to give it to him. I’m going to walk right out of this room, shaking my ass a
little more for his benefit, without another word. And that’s exactly what I
do. YES GIRL GET INTO IT
“Dash!” I yell once I’m in the kitchen, plucking my keys off the hook.
“Let’s go! We’re late!” We’re not late yet, not technically. But Friday night
traffic is going to make it difficult.
“I’m not ready yet,” he calls back over the music blasting from his room.
“I’ll meet you there.”
Great. Just awesome. There goes my buffer. I was counting on Dash’s
presence to scare him off, even if a little. Though, on the other hand, I must
admit I’m somewhat relieved. I don’t think I could face my brother right now
after what just happened with Asher in my room. I don’t know how I’m
going to focus on anything other than his fingers inside me. Jesus, take the
wheel. JAJAJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJAAAAAAAAAJAJAJJAJAJJA

I ’m delightfully bored. I say “delightful,” because it’s better to be bored

than to be with stuck in awkward conversation with Jackson. For the past
thirty minutes, I’ve done nothing but shake hands, kiss cheeks, and hug
necks. My face hurts from smiling politely, and my feet are already killing
me. But, I’ll take it. Because I haven’t seen Jackson once. Maybe he decided
not to show. YESSSSSSSSSSSSS
 A server walks by, and I pluck a glass of champagne off his tray. Even
though I’m clearly underage, he doesn’t so much as bat an eye. No one cares
at these types of events, my parents included. Everyone here is rich enough to
buy their way out of any trouble they may find themselves in, anyway. My
parents are busy schmoozing and mingling, so I decide to go to the bathroom
just to have something to do.
My heels click-clack across the hard floor, and I stare straight ahead,
hoping to avoid eye contact with another one of my dad’s clients or my
mom’s friends. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I scan my
appearance. Besides the lingering flush in my cheeks, you’d never know that
a little over an hour ago, I was grinding on Asher’s lap, begging him to take
me higher.
After fluffing my hair and reapplying my lipstick, I’ve run out of things
to do, so I decide to head back out. As soon as I open the door, a hand darts
out to clutch my elbow in an almost painful grip.
“Jackson, what the hell?” I tug my arm back, and the champagne splashes
onto his shoes.
“I thought I saw you go in there,” he says, still staring at the liquid on his
dress shoes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He shakes his foot off and flashes
me an easy smile. I don’t apologize.
“So, I hear you’re my date,” he says, when I don’t respond.
“We’re here as friends,” I stress. Even that much is a stretch after our last
conversation. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK ITS WRONG WITH HIM
“Friends?” He laughs. “Do you fuck all your friends?” he spits angrily.
“Okay, we’re done here.” His ego is wounded, and I get that. But I won’t
be spoken to like that. I stand and spin around to walk away, only to run into
a solid, six-foot wall of Asher. He steadies me by my shoulders, and I gasp
when I realize he’s wearing a suit. ME MATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I’ll always prefer casual Ash over anything, but seeing him in a suit
literally takes my breath away. His usually disheveled hair is slicked back in
a pompadour style, and those beautiful, multicolored eyes shoot lasers in
Jackson’s direction. I bring my hands to his face, forcing him to look at me,
before dropping my hands and looking around, frantically, making sure no
one saw us. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
“Asher, don’t,” I whisper.
Ignoring me, he moves around me, standing chest to chest with Jackson.
“If you so much as fucking look in her direction again, I will put you in a
 CNDNVIODVIOHWEVHIKDOCJS8RGOYHUJUCSNKXOLPLA0SW98IEYGFRHVBCJXK
fucking coma.” TOY MALAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
His words aren’t loud, but quiet, intense Asher is far more dangerous.
Jackson’s eyes dart to me briefly, but if he’s expecting me to stick up for him
after that, he’s sorely mistaken. Shaking his head in disbelief, doing his best
to hide his fear, he stomps away like a scolded child.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning my attention back to the bad
boy turned GQ model in front of me.
“I knew that piece of shit was bad news.” His fists at his sides clench and
release, clench, and release again.
“Relax.” I discreetly grab one of his hands, uncurling his fingers and
rubbing his palm with my thumb. His hard eyes soften at my touch, and being
the one person who can get through to him when he’s like this cracks the last
piece of my hesitant heart wide open. It’s his. It’s always been his. I just wish
he’d realize it.
“What the fuck was that about?” MALDITO DASHIELL DEL DIABLO
At the sound of Dash’s voice, we drop each other’s hands like they’re on
fire.
Dash jerks his chin in the direction Jackson ran off. “Do we need to take
care of this guy?”
“What are you, the mafia?” I joke, shooting a pleading look at Asher. I
know he wants nothing more than to make Jackson hurt right now. I can see
it in his eyes. But, I don’t want them involved in this. I don’t even want my
brother knowing that I slept with him.
Asher hesitates for a beat, indecision warring on his face. “He was just
talking shit,” he explains, purposely downplaying the situation, and I let out a
relieved breath.
As if I needed more chaos, I spot my mom heading right toward us,
zeroed in on Dash. Maybe she won’t recognize Asher, being three years older
and in a suit of all things.
“Dash, darling, how nice of you to—oh. Asher. What are you doing
CONIO
here?”
Okay, so I guess she recognized him.
“Dash here asked me to be his plus one,” he says, that mask of cool
indifference firmly back in place. “I couldn’t say no to that pretty face. You
know how it goes.”
“Mhm,” is all my mom says with a forced smile, turning her attention to
me. “Where’s Jackson?” She scans the crowd.
 JAJAJAJJJAJJAJAJAJAJ
“Probably to change his pants,” Asher mumbles under his breath, and I
elbow his side.
“I don’t know. He was just here. I’m sure he’ll be back.” I shrug.
“Well, make sure you find him. Dinner will be served soon, then I’m
certain he’ll want to dance.”
“I’m not—”
“Oh! And Lara wants a picture of you two,” she says, cutting me off,
referring to Jackson’s mother. I swear I hear a growl come from Asher. And
then she’s off, making her way to her next victim before I have a chance to
object.
There are so many things I wish I could say to Ash right now, but I can’t,
because Dash is right here. My brother takes his seat, and Asher follows suit,
picking up the place card with Dashiell Vale +1 in gold script.
“Guess this is me,” he says, arching an eyebrow, daring me to argue.
I roll my eyes, lowering myself to my seat, which happens to be
sandwiched between Asher and Jackson’s empty chair.
“When he comes back, play nice,” I warn them both. “You don’t have to
like him, but we can’t cause a scene here.”
Dash takes a swig of his Jack on the rocks that I can smell from here and
throws up a hand gesture.
“The fuck is that?” Ash asks, and I laugh.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Dude, that’s the Vulcan salute from Star Trek.” JAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJA
Dash shrugs. “Same difference.”
“Idiot,” I say, but I can’t keep from smiling. It feels good to be together
like this again, just the three of us.
Until I see Jackson, heading back our way.
 CHAPTER 9

ASHER
JAJAJJAJAJ

T his fucking kid can’t be serious. He ran off with his tail between his
legs, but he seems to have picked up some new-found courage during
his little bathroom break, judging by the cocky fucking grin he’s
sporting that’s going to get his teeth knocked out here in a minute. He sits
down next to Briar, and she looks at me with wide eyes, knowing that my
patience is hanging by a thread.
Dash leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Keep your mouth
shut, and we won’t have any problems,” he says in a low voice as to not draw
any attention.
Jackson smirks, bringing his ankle up to rest on his knee. “You know
what I think? I think you can talk all the shit you want, but you won’t make a
scene. Not here.”
“He won’t, but I will. Don’t fucking test me, pretty boy. I have nothing to
lose with these kinds of people.”YESYESYESYEYSYESYESYESYESYESYES
“Because you’re not one of us. You can put on a suit and tie, but you’re
still trash.” QUE MMG
I feel a delicate hand rub my thigh, and though I know her attempt is to
calm me down, she’s doing the opposite. She’s making my dick hard, and all
I want is to fuck her, right here and now, to prove that she belongs to me.
Only me. PERO Y QUE FUEGO E GO BITCH
“At least he’s not a snobby, elitist douchebag with a tiny dick,” Briar
shoots back, shocking all of us. Dash spits out his drink, and Jackson is
completely speechless, eyes as wide as saucers and face burning with what I
assume is a mix of anger and embarrassment. I’d laugh if she hadn’t
confirmed—for the second time tonight—that she fucked him. The thought of
him touching her, of being inside her, I can’t fucking handle it. I know I’m no
good for her, but he doesn’t deserve her, either. Not by a long shot.
I clutch her wrist and bring it back to her lap before curling my hand
around her thigh in a squeezing grip. I feel her stiffen, but I don’t look at her.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that,” Dash says, shaking the
liquor off his hand. I glance at Briar to find her cheeks bright red—either
from embarrassment at her outburst. Or maybe the fact that my hand is
making its way underneath her dress with her brother on one side of us and
her wannabe boyfriend on the other has something to do with it. I trail my
calloused fingers up her silky-soft thighs, and she presses them together. I
hook my leg under hers, thankful for the floor-length tablecloths, and pull,
forcing her legs to widen. Briar makes a small sound of surprise, but no one
else hears it.
I wonder if she’s still wet from earlier. It took every ounce of my self-
control not to unzip myself and thrust inside her when she was straddling my
lap, riding my fingers. I wasn’t going to come tonight, but the more I thought
about her being alone with Jackson, the more I knew I couldn’t stay away.
I went into Dash’s room and questioned where he was going. I played
dumb, making him think it was his idea to invite me.
“What are you up to tonight?” he’d asked. “My mom is forcing me to go
to this fundraiser to keep up appearances.”
“You want me to go with you?”
He paused in the middle of adjusting his tie, thrown off by my offer.
“You’d go? I’ve never gotten you to agree to this kind of shit before.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and feeling like a dick for it. “Will
there be free booze?”
He smiled and handed me one of his suits that was a little tighter than I’d
have liked, but it would do. And here we are.
Dash gets up and announces that he’s getting another drink, and I take the
opportunity to slip my finger inside her panties. Fuck, those underwear. All
strappy black and lacy framing her perfect little bubble butt. I take a sip of the
water in front of me with my right hand while sliding my fingers through her
slick heat with the other hand. She’s wet, so wet, and smooth. Someone takes
the stage and begins their speech, but all I can focus on is the way Briar
clenches around my fingers when I shove them inside her pussy, the way her
breathing becomes ragged, her eyelids growing heavier, her tits heaving, and
nipples hardening against the thin fabric of her dress. Fuck this.
I lean in close and whisper, “Go to the third floor. Wait for me by the
elevator. Now.” PERO ME DA ALGO
She nods her head yes rapidly, and the fact that she doesn’t even hesitate
sates my inner beast. “Okay,” she whispers back, and she lets a quiet moan
out when I slide my fingers from her pussy. Jackson looks over, a
combination of shock and jealousy written all over his face, and I’m one
thousand percent sure he knows what’s going on under this table. I raise a
brow that says can I help you? JAJAJAJAJAJ
Briar rights her dress under the table before getting up onto shaky legs,
making her way to the elevator. I give it a good five minutes, daring Jackson
to say a fucking word, while also keeping an eye on Dash. A pretty little
thing at the bar has distracted him, so I doubt he’ll be back any time soon.
I’m a piece of shit for this—for being so sneaky with my best friend’s little
sister—but I’ve fought acting on my feelings since she was fourteen years
old. This thing between Briar and me is like a runaway train. It can’t be
stopped, and it’ll take us both straight to hell.
HASHHDGHASJDAS
“Enjoy your night,” I say to Jackson, sucking the taste of Briar off my
finger before wiping my hands with the linen napkin. I ball it up, drop it on
his plate, and walk away. Heading into the elevator, I stab at the number three
with my finger, having zero patience left. I need to be inside her. Now. The
doors ping and then open. She’s waiting, biting back a nervous smile, hands
twisting behind her back.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
Eating up the distance between us, I take her face in my hands, kissing
her hard. She moans into my mouth, her tongue sliding against mine. Both of
us are too far gone to care about getting caught now. We’ve been teasing
each other all night, and it’s coming to a head right here and now. Her hands
grip my suit jacket as I swallow her cries of pleasure. This kiss is frantic and
messy and desperate. I pull back, both of us panting.
“You let him fuck you?”
“Ash—”
“Tell. Me.”
She nods reluctantly.
 “When.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand. I need to know if she fucked
him after this thing between us started.
“Months ago. Before you came back.”
“Why?” Why him?
“Why?” She gives a bitter laugh. “Because you left me. Because Whitley
came in bragging about hooking up with you. Because he was there and I was
mad. That’s why. Was I supposed to keep waiting for you?”
“No.” Fuck. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to be pissed about it,” I
say petulantly. Something she said isn’t adding up. “I thought you said this
just happened a few months ago.”
“It did,” she says, confusion painted on her face. “Just the one time, at his
party before school even ended.”
MALDITAESTUPIDADPERRAENVIDIOSAIDIOTAIDIOTAHDP
“I haven’t fucked Whitley in years.” We both stand there, soaking this
information in. Whitley is a fucking liar, for one. And Briar gave up her
virginity based on that lie.
Briar shakes her pretty, blonde head, walking to the balcony that
overlooks the fundraiser. She rests her elbow on the bannister.
“I hate her, Ash.” Her voice is a whisper.
“I know, baby,” I say, coming up behind her, palming the outsides of her
thighs. “Fuck her. Fuck all these people.”
“Ash,” she breathes my name as my left hand curves around her hip and
dips underneath the thin scrap of lace. Her dress is bunched up above her ass,
which is pressed right up against my crotch.
“What would they say if they saw you like this? With me?” I rub her clit
and bite the shell of her ear. “They don’t know you, Briar. They think you’re
a good girl, but they don’t know that you like sneaking around with me. That
you like the idea of being fucked up here, right out in the open. Right
underneath their noses.”
Her sharp intake of breath tells me that I’m right. And thank fuck,
because I don’t know if I could wait another minute.
“We can’t.”
“We are.” I unzip my slacks enough to pull my cock out and tug her
panties to the side. “Stop me.”
“I can’t,” she says, low and keening, pushing back against my bare,
engorged dick.
“Because you need this just as bad as I do. You like the idea of getting
caught almost as much as you like getting away with it.”
 I push inside her slick pussy, giving us both what we want. What we need.
Her head falls forward, but I grip the front of her neck, forcing her chin up.
“No,” she gasps as I start to fuck her harder.
“No? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Say it. Say what you want.”
“I want to be up here with you. Fucking you. So fuck me.” The dirty
words coming from that pretty mouth spur me on, and I pull one of her straps
down, then pinch her nipple. She sucks in a breath, and I feel her clench
around me.
“That’s right. You don’t belong with them. You never have. You may
have been born into this life, but you’re not like them, Briar. You and I are
the same. And that’s why you’ve been mine since you were fucking eleven,
even if we didn’t know it yet.” QUE
“Yes, God, yes. Don’t leave me again. Don’t ever leave.”
“Careful what you wish for.” I pump into her, my cock growing even
harder. She plants her hands on the rail in front of us, bracing herself,
meeting me thrust for thrust. I turn her face to the side, holding her there as I
suck and bite and lick her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, and everywhere in
between. I bring my other hand to rub at her clit while I pound into her. I can
hear how wet she is, and our skin slaps together. Her hushed moans turn
louder, and neither one of us cares if anyone knows in this moment. Because
this is our truth, up here in the shadows.
I pull out abruptly to slide her underwear down, ignoring her protesting
whine. I tug them down her toned thighs, and they fall to the floor around her
slender ankles. Scooping them and clenching them in my fist, I waste no time
burying myself back inside of her velvet heat. I squeeze her hips in a bruising
grip, still holding on to the scrap of lace, and I don’t hold back. I fuck her like
I hate her, because part of me still does. I don’t fully understand the depths of
my feelings for Briar, but make no mistake, I’d kill for this girl. LAKRE TAS
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” We’re sweating and panting,
completely animalistic. “Look at them, Briar. Look at them when you come
on my cock. Anyone could look up at any moment.” I place my arms on top
of hers, my hands covering hers that grip the rail, and I nip at her spine.
“They’d act appalled, but they’d go home and jerk themselves off to this
image. I promise you that.”
Briar cries out, contracting around my dick, but she bites down on my
arm to muffle her screams. I fuck her through her climax, trying to hold back
from coming inside her. Finally, she slumps forward, spent, and I pull out,
shooting my load inside her wadded-up panties.
We take a minute to catch our breath, unspeaking, before I straighten the
skirt of her dress and zip myself up. She turns to face me, flushed cheeks and
sleepy eyes. Her hair is damp, and little curls spring near her hairline.
“What are we doing, Ash?” Briar asks, as reality crashes down around us.
We’re getting sloppy. Just begging to get caught. I don’t know what this is,
either, but I know I’m not stopping. So, I give her the only answer I can.
“Whatever the fuck we want.”
 CHAPTER 10

BRIAR

I can still feel him between my legs, his fingers on my hips, his teeth in
my shoulder. I clamp my legs shut in the passenger seat of my car,
looking over at Asher. His left hand squeezes the wheel, hard eyes
staring straight ahead. His suit jacket was thrown in the back seat, leaving
him in a white dress shirt with rolled sleeves. He glances over and eyes my
crossed legs pressed together, knowing I don’t have any underwear on.
Giving me a cocky grin, he slides his right hand in between my thighs,
gripping the inside of one.
After we caught our breath and the weight of what we did settled around
us, we both decided that we needed to go somewhere to be alone. We’re
getting careless. Practically begging to be caught. He didn’t say where he was
taking me, just snatched the keys out of my hand and started driving us out of
the city limits. As we get further west, I realize I know exactly where he’s
taking me.
“We’re going to The Tracks?” I ask, equal parts unsure and amused.
“That’s an interesting choice.”
He shrugs. “It’s quiet. No chance of being interrupted.”
Yeah, I think, unless fifty high schoolers decide to have the same idea.
But, The Tracks has always been his safe place.
We pull up to the old building. It’s pitch-black and eerily quiet, the only
sound the crickets chirping and the hum of the cars on the freeway in the
distance. Asher takes my hand and wordlessly leads me through the gate, the
hole in the fence, and finally into the building. Dapper and demure meet
damaged and dilapidated as we walk inside, still in our gala attire. I wonder if
this place ever held events like the one we attended tonight. If two star-
crossed lovers ever resorted to stolen moments in the middle of a crowded
building like we did, I wonder how their story turned out.
We wander around, aimlessly, neither one of us speaking, but both having
so much to say. I decide to finally bite the bullet and break the silence.
“Where did you go?” I ask, cutting to the chase. He knows I’m referring
to the past three years and gives me a long look before deciding to answer.
“It’s a long story,” he starts. “But the important part is that I ended up in a
small town in Northern California called River’s Edge.”
“And?” I prod, needing more of an explanation than that.
“And, I met a guy named Dare who has his own roofing company. He
took me in, taught me the trade, and then when he started the process of
opening up his own tattoo shop, I sort of took over.”
“Oh.”
I’m not sure what else to say. He always wanted to leave, and I
understood why. It’s the timing that never made sense to me. I guess I had it
in my mind that there was some big secret that stole him away from me. Like
jail or boarding school. But the fact that he just…started over elsewhere?
That stings, though it shouldn’t.
“What about you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“What did you do while I was gone?”
I shrug. “School, mostly. Acted as a referee between Dash and Dad
whenever they were together. The usual.”
“Still want to be a nurse?”
I look over at him in shock. I mentioned that in passing once, when I was
maybe fourteen. AAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
“I do…” I say, trailing off.
“But?”
“But, my dad wouldn’t ever go for it. He’s still pissed at Dash for not
going to Harvard.” What he doesn’t know is that I have a pile of acceptance
letters that have lapsed in my dresser drawer. I didn’t make a decision, and
now it’s too late for any of them.
“Fuck your dad,” Ash says darkly and with more anger than is warranted
for this conversation. “What do you want?”
 “Honestly? I have no clue. None.” The problem is that I want to do
everything and nothing all at once. I can’t commit, and regardless of what I
do, I’m letting someone down.
“Then, be undeclared. Or take a year to figure out what you want to do.
Life is too short to live for someone else.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but he doesn’t understand, not really. It’s not
easy saying no to my parents.
“Let’s play a game,” I suggest, changing the subject. Asher looks at me
warily.
“Okay…” he drawls out. “What do you have in mind?” He rakes his
fingertips up the sides of my thighs and back under my dress, meeting my
bare skin. I already want him again.
“Not that kind of game. A question game. I ask you a question, and you
give me a straightforward answer, no bullshit,” I stress. “Then you get to ask
me a question. Deal?”
“Deal,” he agrees, and we both head in the direction of the grandstand,
through what used to be the food court. The place is so quiet that I could
probably hear a pin drop from the other side of the building.
“So, you weren’t hooking up with Whitley while you were gone?”
Asher stops short and turns to face me, his expression dead serious. “Not
even once. I never saw her while I was gone.”
I nod, waiting for his question.
“Does any part of you still want Jackson?” He doesn’t waste any time
asking. I think he more than knows the answer to this question, but I give him
the reassurance he needs.
“Not even a little bit,” I say with the same sincerity in which he answered
me. “He was nice. You were gone.” I shrug, as if that’s all there was to it.
There wasn’t much more than that, to be honest.
“Are you going to leave again?” I ask, voicing my biggest fear.
“Probably,” he answers honestly. His head is down, hands in his pockets,
as he angles his body toward the dark sky through hollow windows while I
die a little inside. RISKY MY HEART YEAH
“Why did you help my dad?”
I suck in a breath. I knew this one was coming. “I’m sorry,” I start, but he
puts a hand up and stops me.
“That’s not a straightforward answer, Bry.”
“Okay.” He’s right. “Um, because I felt bad for him. I felt that he truly
regretted how he treated you. And I knew that he was still your father. I
wanted to take care of him for you. It made me feel closer to you, too.”
Asher doesn’t speak. He stares out at the silhouettes of palm trees against
the night sky, and I can see the tension in his jaw. I decide to hit him with a
not-so-loaded question.
“Did you miss me?”
“Every fucking day. Even when I despised you.” AAAAAAWWW
“Why did you—” I start to ask, but he tsks and wiggles a finger at me.
“It’s my turn.” Oh. Right.
“Did you miss me?”
“So much it hurt.”
His eyes snap toward mine.
“What are we?” I ask, even though my heart is in my stomach waiting for
his response.
“I don’t know,” he says, coming closer. He moves my hair off my right
shoulder, bringing his mouth close to my neck. “What do you want to be?”
His breath dances across my exposed skin, and I shudder with anticipation.
“Everything.”
“We can’t,” he rasps, curling a hand around my thigh and lifting. I wrap
both legs around his waist, and he backs me up against the pillar behind me.
“I can’t give you that. Not yet.”
“But, I don’t want to stop this,” I argue.
“I can’t stop this,” he agrees, reaching to unbutton his pants. I use the
heels of my shoes to push them down, and then I feel him there. Warm and
hard and ready.
“So, we keep doing this, but—”
“But we don’t tell anyone,” he finishes.
“What are you waiting for then, Kelley? Fuck me.”
His eyes fill with heat, and he thrusts forward, showing me exactly how
much fun secrets can be.

“C an’t say I didn’t see this coming,” a raspy, familiar voice grumbles,
startling me out of my slumber. It’s dark, and it takes me a second
to remember where I am. Asher brought me to his dad’s house last night,
because neither of us wanted to deal with people or the hassle of sneaking
around. I wasn’t sold at first, but I figured any time Asher spends around his
father is a plus.
Ash is wrapped around me. His nose is in my hair, his arm banded around
my waist. I reach behind me to shake him awake. He barely budges.
“Leave me alone,” he growls in his sleep-sexy voice, squeezing me
tighter to him. It rumbles in my ear, leaving goose bumps across my neck and
down my arms. “This is the best sleep I’ve had in years.”
I melt at his words, all vulnerable and unfiltered due to his sleepy state,
and my face heats because John’s lifted eyebrow and amused expression tell
me that he has heard every word. Asher is an adult, and he doesn’t strike me
as someone who ever followed the rules, even as a kid. But, I’m still
seventeen, and I’ve just been caught in a boy’s bedroom. I should feel the
need to apologize or make excuses, but somehow, I know the normal rules
don’t apply. At least not here.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” John says, before slowly making his way back
down the hall. Asher finally opens his eyes when he realizes we aren’t alone,
but he doesn’t offer up any explanation. Once his dad is gone, I cover my
face with both hands.
“Well, that wasn’t weird at all,” I deadpan.
“You’re fine,” Ash says, his voice still thick with sleep. “He doesn’t care
about this kind of thing. Trust me.” a po ella ta clara que e un cuero JAJAJJA
I know Asher’s a bit of a man whore, but the insinuation that he brings a
lot of girls home still stings. And my face must show it.
“What?” he asks, confused. I turn away from him, but he turns me onto
my back by my shoulder and props himself on one arm to hover over me. His
mussed-up hair that hangs in his right eye, his square jaw full of day-old
stubble, his muscular arm braced on the pillow next to my face. How could
anyone not want him? He’s perfection personified. The bad boy with a good
heart. I know it’s there, even if he tries his best to hide it.
“Briar…” he coaxes, smoothing my hair off my face.
“I’m being stupid,” I answer honestly. Because I am being stupid. What
happened with Asher and other girls before me is irrelevant. Even if we were
technically together—which we aren’t—it still wouldn’t matter. I’m not
going to be one of those girls who obsesses over every single person he’s
ever come in contact with.
“Tell me.”
 “I was just wondering how many girls have been in this bed.”
He smirks and opens his mouth, but I cover it with my palm.
“I don’t want to know!” I say quickly. Ignorance is definitely bliss in this
scenario. Asher chuckles into my hand and then bites the skin of my palm. I
jerk it back, and he pins it to the pillow next to my head, lowering himself
onto me. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
“I’ve never brought one single person into this room. Male or female.”
“Even Whitley?”
“Even Whitley,” he agrees.
How is that possible?
“Come on, Briar. You know how my dad was. I wasn’t bringing anyone
over here. I didn’t even want to be here. You’re the only one.”
I love feeling like I’m different than everyone else to Asher, as juvenile as
that sounds. Maybe even special. He doesn’t say it in flowery words or
extravagant public declarations of love, but that makes it mean even more to
me. Ash is like an onion with many layers. With each one, I find something
more to him.
“Oh,” I say dumbly.
“Oh?” he repeats, cocking a brow. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I’ve never had another guy in my room, either.”
“Good.”
And then he lowers his head, pressing those full lips to mine, before
trailing them down my neck, collarbone, the curve of my breast. I arch under
his touch, never needing anything more than the slightest touch to burn for
him. He reaches for the hem of the old P.E. shirt from high school that he let
me borrow and sprinkles open-mouthed kisses up my stomach. Just before he
exposes me completely, I hear John erupt in a coughing fit from the other
room, reminding me of our surroundings.
“Ash,” I say, already breathless. “We can’t. Your dad.”
He growls, biting the underside of my boob before rolling away.
“Guess I’ll go make sure he didn’t hack up a lung,” Asher grumbles, and
I laugh, righting my shirt.
“Don’t be an ass. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Asher reaches over to turn on the lamp on his nightstand before standing
and pulling on some thin, mesh basketball shorts. I bite my bottom lip as I
take in his lean swimmer’s torso. The sharp V, the two freckles right at the
waistband of his shorts that I want to trace with my tongue. I wish we had a
place that was ours—just ours—so we could be alone and I could have my
fill of him for hours, days, weeks. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of being
with him like this. I’ve never felt this desperate, can’t eat, can’t sleep, need
you, bleed for you type of addiction before.
“You’re doing it again,” he groans, balling his fists at his sides.
“Doing what?” I ask, batting my eyes innocently. He shakes his head,
exasperated, and walks out the door, leaving me to drool at the sight of his
shirtless, muscular back.
I take a second to look at the room around me—the glimpse into teenage
Asher’s mind that I never got to see. Most everything has been packed into
boxes that line the wall, but a few things remain. A couple of posters—Brand
New, Underoath, and Thrice. The usual suspects. His window is covered by a
black sheet, the same shade as his bedding. A skateboard with a Volcom
sticker peeks out of the closet, with one of the trucks missing. I always
thought he planned to leave, and it only felt sudden to me, but seeing his
room appearing so lived-in has me wondering if it wasn’t planned.
I stand, ignoring the ache between my legs, and reach for my dress that
was flung over the box in the early hours of the morning when Asher and I
made up for lost time, yet again. I pull the dress over my head, and I can’t
help but notice the medals and trophies collecting dust inside. I pick one up
and turn the cool, heavy metal in my hand. I wonder why he doesn’t swim
anymore. Swimming was his thing. The one thing he seemed to actually
enjoy.
I make my way over to his black dresser and hope to God he has some
boxers or shorts or something, considering he never gave me my underwear
back. I try the top left drawer. Empty, except for a few socks. I try the top
right—jackpot! I sift through the drawer, looking for the smallest pair, when I
see something stashed underneath. It’s a folded piece of paper. I shouldn’t
open it. Asher’s already so private, and I don’t want to do anything to betray
his trust. Even if it’s nothing more than a grocery list, he wouldn’t want me
looking through his things. YA LA FUCKING CAGATEEEEEE
But, curiosity gets the best of me, so I pick it up. It’s heavier and thicker
than notebook paper, like the kind that people use to sketch on. I carefully
unfold it and gasp when I see what’s inside. It’s a black and white skull with
vibrant, colorful succulents and roses around it, covering one half of the face.
They kind of look like the ones in my mom’s garden. It’s dark and sad and
beautiful all at once. Did Asher draw this? NO WAY
 “What are you doing?”
His voice is cold and curt, and I jump, dropping the picture to the floor.
His arms are crossed, stance guarded, eyes suspicious.
“I was looking for some shorts,” I stammer, plucking out the first pair I
get my hands on and sliding them up my legs. He eyes the paper on the floor,
but doesn’t say anything. Stalking over, he bends over and picks it up,
inspecting the art.
“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “Did you draw it?”
“No.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s just a tattoo idea. Dare sketched it up for me when I went back.”
I nod, unsure of what to say, rocking on my heels. Ash crumples the
paper up and tosses it back into the drawer.
“Come on,” he says. “I’m making us breakfast.”
“You can cook?” I ask, amused, thankful for the subject change.
“I’ve been cooking for myself since before you grew tits.” JAJAJJAJAJJA
“Touché,” I say, rolling my eyes. I guess he would’ve had to learn how to
cook at a young age. Between his mom dying and his dad being too busy
self-destructing, it was mandatory.
I sit at the old oak table while Asher does his thing in the kitchen. John is
firmly planted in his favorite recliner, watching the NFL draft on TV. I
haven’t seen him since Asher’s been back, and I’m in this weird place where
I feel guilty for not coming by, but also guilty for ever coming in the first
place.
“How’s he doing?” I ask quietly, as Ash flips the eggs in the frying pan
like a pro.
“Hanging in there, I guess.” He shrugs.
“Are you okay?” I know Asher doesn’t have much of a relationship with
John, and I know he plays it off like he couldn’t care less, but deep down, he
does care. He has to. He’s twenty-one years old and about to be parent-less.
That would be hard on anyone. Something dark passes over his features, but
then it’s gone, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just making sure.”
Ash loads up three plates with eggs—sunny side up—bacon, and toast. I
walk one of them over to John so he can eat in his chair. Asher sets our plates
at the table in the kitchen. Risking his wrath, I snatch his plate from under his
nose and grab my own before bringing them to the coffee table in the living
room. Next to John. Ash isn’t happy about it, but he follows suit, glaring all
the way.
“So, you two have become fast friends, I see,” Ash says, his accusation
clear, but if he’s looking for a reaction from John, he’s not getting one. Like
father, like son, I think. Both of the Kelley men are so adept at keeping their
emotions concealed. They aren’t easily ruffled, at least on the exterior.
“Yep,” John mumbles around a mouthful of food. “Got our BFF
necklaces and everything. You jealous?”
Ash lets out an unamused huff.
“The house looks good,” I note. It’s much cleaner than it used to be, and
it’s mostly packed up. I can’t help but feel a little sad thinking about it. I
can’t imagine preparing for my own death. Seeing my entire life reduced to a
few boxes. Trying to make amends before it’s too late. My heart hurts for
both of them.
“Mostly Asher’s doing,” John says. “He’s been sorting through
everything, cleaning, packing, you name it.”
I’m slightly thrown by the almost-compliment, until he tacks on,
“Anything to avoid actually talking to his old man, right?” He laughs it off,
self-deprecating as always, but I sense the pain behind his words. I know
Asher is conflicted. You wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but I
know him. His words are his weapons, but when it comes to his father, he
doesn’t always bite back, and that speaks volumes. I want him to give John
another chance, but that doesn’t mean he should ever, for one second, feel
guilty about not being able to forgive him.
“Two months of sobriety doesn’t erase the past six years,” I say, shocking
even myself. It just slips out. “I didn’t mean to say that,” I confess, eyes
wide. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“She’s right,” John says after a beat of silence. “I’m glad you have
someone in your corner.” Then he goes back to eating as if nothing ever
happened.
Ash squeezes my knee, and I let out a relieved breath. That little gesture
says more than words ever will.
“Do you want to go somewhere with me?” Ash asks, catching me off
guard.
“Now?”
“Right now. I want to show you something.”

NO ME DIGAS QUE ES LO QUE CREO QUE ESSSSS

I beam at him.
“Let’s go.”
 CHAPTER 11

ASHER

what.
I glance down at Briar’s sleeping form. She’s so tiny that she’s curled
right up on the bench of my truck with her head on my lap, living up to
her namesake. When I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere, she
wasn’t prepared for a twelve-hour drive. I’ve done it so many times that it’s
nothing to me. Once we left my dad’s house, we stopped at Briar’s to pack a
bag and change our clothes, then we were off.
After spending time with her at my dad’s, without fear of anyone seeing
us, I decided I needed more of that feeling. We wouldn’t have to sneak
around, I wouldn’t have to share her with other people, and most of all, I’d
get to fuck her whenever I wanted. OMFG
I shoot Dare a text, informing him that we’re close. The air has turned
crisp, the roads windy, and the pine trees outnumber the people.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” I say, tucking her hair behind her ear. She
lets out a sleepy moan, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
“Where are we?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.
“Almost there. I didn’t want you to miss this,” I say, gesturing to the
scenery that’s vastly different from Arizona. Everything is green, and there’s
nothing but mountains and pine trees, as far as the eye can see.
“It’s beautiful,” she says. “I can see why you stayed so long.”
“It’s a lot better than the alternative.”
“Arizona isn’t that bad.” She laughs.
“Not Arizona,” I surprise myself by admitting.
 “Then what do you mean? Where else did you go?”
“With my uncle in Southern California, at first.”
“You have an uncle?” she asks, her nose crinkling in confusion.
“I didn’t really know him until recently.”
“Then why would you stay with him?”
I blow out a breath and decide to tell her everything. I know her well
enough to know she’ll get it out of me sooner or later. From the drugs and the
cars to the stealing and the fights, I tell her all of it, including the day my
uncle left me for dead, and how Dare came into the picture, bailing me out in
more ways than one.
“Jesus,” she says quietly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I had no
idea.”
“Well.” I shrug. “Now you do.” THE THING YOU WHA-
We sit in silence as she takes in the trees and the lake along with the
information I just dumped on her. The thing I love about Briar is that she
didn’t even bat an eye when I told her about stealing the cars or snorting the
coke. She doesn’t judge me. She’s probably the only one who never has.
Finally, I pull onto Dare’s street. His house is secluded, far away from
town, and the roads are so narrow that you have to pull over for oncoming
cars to be able to fit. I thought I was anti-social, but Dare makes me look like
the freaking prom queen in comparison.
“We’re here,” I say, cutting the engine. Briar’s wide eyes take in the
luxury cabin before us.
“This is where you lived?”
“Yup.”
“Why the hell did you ever leave?” she asks, incredulous. The cabin itself
isn’t very glamorous, but it’s right on the water, and people pay millions for
that. Literally.
“I had something prettier waiting for me in Cactus Heights,” I tease.
“That’s sweet, Ash, but your dad really isn’t that cute.”
I snort, hopping out of my truck before walking around to the other side
to help her down, too. Instead of stepping down, she launches herself at me,
wrapping her arms around my neck. I squeeze her ass as she brings her lips to
mine, her tongue seeking entrance.
“Are you guys going to come in, or are you just going to fuck in my
driveway all night?” Dare asks from his open door. Briar jumps at the sound
of his voice and sheepishly slides down my body.
 “Briar, this is Dare. Dare, Briar,” I say as we make our way inside. Bry
surprises me by hugging his middle. And Dare looks even more shocked,
arms held out to his side, not knowing what to do.
“Is she always this friendly?” he asks, cocking a brow and pointing a
finger at her arms wrapped around his tattooed torso.
“Thank you for helping him,” she says, and once he understands, he
returns her hug, even if it is one-handed. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the
way she cares about me. It never fails to surprise me.
“Kelleyyy!” someone slurs from far away.
“Cordell or Camden?” I ask.
“I have no fucking clue.” Dare laughs. “But it’s one of them. They’re all
out back.”
Remember how I said Dare was anti-social? Our friends, who happen to
be brothers, don’t seem to realize it. Or more accurately, they just don’t care.
They’re the complete opposite of Dare, and myself for that matter.
Briar takes in everything from the high ceilings to the old wooden floors,
and everything in between as Dare leads us through the house and into the
backyard.
“I can’t believe we’re only in the next state over. It feels like we’re in
another world.”
“You should see it during the winter. It’s like living in an actual snow
globe.”
me too bestie
“I’d love to live somewhere like this. You know, with actual seasons.”
I nod, because that’s my favorite part about being here, too.
We make our way toward the rowdy voices in the backyard, finding
Camden and Cordell in the hot tub with three chicks. They’re randoms.
Tourists. I’d bet my life on it.
“Well, if it isn’t the fucking King of the Mountain,” I say to Camden. He
and Cordell both snowboard, like everyone else who lives here, but Camden
went pro, and he’s achieved somewhat celebrity status around here.
“What’s up, motherfucker? Who’s that fine ass looking female?” ay pero
“You’re not going to be very good at snowboarding with two broken
legs,” I warn, and he holds his palms up, laughing. “This is Briar.”
“Oh, shit, you found someone to deal with your brooding ass?”
“Seems that way,” I grumble, but fuck, it feels good to be with her like
this. I link my fingers with hers, just because we can, and she smiles up at
me. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAA
 “This is Serena and Sasha,” Camden says, referring to the two blondes
next to him. “They’re from Canada. And this is beautiful creature is Mila. I’m
not really sure where the fuck she came from, to be honest.” The girls giggle,
thinking he’s joking, but I can tell by his expression that he genuinely has no
clue.
“You guys coming in?” Cordell asks. “There’s beer in the cooler.”
Usually, that would be a hard pass. But the Jacuzzi is big, and they’re
only taking up one side. Plus, any excuse to see Briar in a bikini has my vote.
I look at her to see what she thinks, and she shrugs, as if to say might as well.
I lead her up to my room, tossing our bags onto my bed.
“I really love it here,” she says, taking in the plain walls and minimal
furniture. Just a bed, a dresser, and a TV.
“It’s not much, but living in this environment, you don’t need much else.”
“I can see that,” she says, plucking her bathing suit out of her bag. This
time, it’s plain black.
“Well?” she asks, lifting a brow.
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to turn around?”
“Fuck no.”
Briar giggles, and surprises me by dropping her shorts and underwear.
Next is her tank top and her bra. She’s standing in front of me, completely
naked, and I gulp at the sight. Tiny waist, curvy hips, flat stomach. Her light
blonde hair falls over her perfect little tits.
I take a step toward her, but she holds up a palm.
“Nuh-uh,” she says, already reading my intentions. “That can wait. Your
friends are waiting.”
“Fuck my friends. You’re naked.”
“I told you to turn around,” she teases, pulling her bottoms up her toned
legs. “Later.”
“Fine.”
We both finish getting dressed and join everyone in the hot tub. They all
love Briar, and I’m not surprised. The girl could make friends with a brick
wall. Even Dare seems to like her, which is saying a lot. He only tolerates
most people.
Eventually, they move the party to the fire pit a few feet away. Briar’s on
my lap, and I squeeze her thigh, letting her know I want to hang back. Once
we’re alone, she turns to straddle my lap.
 “Thanks for bringing me here.”
I nip at her lip and grip her ass, pulling her into me. I’m hard as a fucking
rock, and I know she feels it when she flexes her hips toward me on a gasp.
“Can you be quiet?” I ask, tossing a look over my shoulder to make sure
no one else is watching.
“Asher…”
“Yes or no?” I ask, pulling my cock out of my swim shorts, and it bobs
between us.
Briar reaches down to pull her bikini bottoms to the side before sinking
down onto me.
“I can try.”
“That’s my girl.”
 CHAPTER 12

BRIAR

I t’s been a few weeks since Asher brought me to River’s Edge.

Something shifted that day, or maybe the night of the gala, but things
have been different. Good different. After we finished in the hot tub, he
brought me up to his room and we showered together before calling it a night.
We had to leave the next morning, before people started wondering where we
were, and I was surprisingly sad to go. And if I wasn’t mistaken, I could’ve
sworn that Asher looked a little disappointed to leave Dare’s, too.
Dare. That man. He’s equal parts intimidating and beautiful. Jet-black
hair peeking out from under his beanie and striking blue eyes. Both of his
arms were covered with vibrant, intricate art, and his eyebrows were cinched
together in a perpetual scowl. He was the broodier version of Asher, and
that’s saying a lot.
Asher was quiet on the way home, but so was I. I think we were both
contemplating what our futures held. The deeper we fell, the harder it was to
hide. So, tonight, when I got a text from Ash earlier, saying he wanted to talk, fuck.
it was just vague enough to worry me. I can’t help but think he already has
one foot out the door. That our secret is already taking its toll.
My dirty black Vans struggle to keep up with Natalia’s nude pumps as
she quite literally drags me toward the music blaring from the two-story
house that’s only a few minutes’ walk from the university. Of course,
Adrian’s spoiled ass wouldn’t even entertain the idea of staying at the dorms.
Unless they were co-ed. He’s going on his fourth year of college, and I’m
convinced he’s only here for the parties and fresh meat. It took a fair amount
of time convincing me to come, so there’s a good chance that we’re the only
sober ones. And judging by the two chicks that are trying to lift their friend,
who is doing a fantastic impression of a limp noodle off the lawn, I’d say
that’s a safe assumption.
I wasn’t going to come tonight. Wasn’t in the mood after receiving that
text, but Nat insisted she needed a wingman. Apparently, she and Adrian
have some kind of bet going on, so, she went full-on predatory female
tonight. With her incredibly tight, incredibly short, black bandage dress from
her mom’s boutique, you’d think she was hitting up the Las Vegas strip
instead of a college party. Her dark red, messy hair is tussled in that perfectly
imperfect kind of way. Adrian doesn’t stand a chance. Me, on the other hand?
I’m wearing black jean shorts, a black tank, and a flannel. Her pursed lips
told me that she wasn’t happy with what I chose to wear, but she knew better
than to argue once I agreed to come if she wanted a wingman.
We step over the drunk girls, who are now all three sprawled out on the
ground, and walk in the front door. “Do Re Mi” by Blackbear assaults my
ears as we shuffle through the sweaty, drunk bodies and the cloud of smoke
from some dude’s bong rip. Natalia is on a mission, pulling me by my elbow
straight toward the kitchen, ignoring the looks and whistles. Once we’re in
the kitchen, I’m immediately aware of Asher’s presence. I haven’t even
spotted him yet, but I know he’s close. And like a magnet, my eyes find him
through the glass patio door, sitting on the beer pong table, smoking a
cigarette with my brother. He nods as someone talks, but I know he’s not
paying attention, not really. I’m focused on those thick, calloused fingers and
the way the cigarette sits between them. The way he draws it up to those full
lips and his eyebrows tug together before taking a drag. I hate smokers—I
hate that Ash is a smoker—but there is something undeniably sexy about
watching the act. I’m just glad he only does it when he’s drinking these days.
“Here.” My attention snaps back to Nat when she shoves a blue plastic
cup of God knows what into my line of vision.
“What is it?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Whatever that is,” she says, gesturing toward some mysterious red juice
in a bowl. She takes a tentative sip. “Vodka. I think.”
I take the cup, but I don’t drink it. I’m not in the mood tonight.
“So, where is he?” I look around for Adrian, but I don’t see him.
“Oh, he’s here,” Nat says, looking like she’s preparing for battle with the
way she scans the room for her victim, eyes narrowed to slits. “Somewhere.”
Just then, Adrian walks around the corner, and his jaw drops when his
eyes land on Nat. She ditches her drink and saunters toward him with a
victorious smile. He checks her out from head to toe, biting his bottom lip as
she gets closer. Once she’s within reach, he holds out his hand, but she
jJjajjajajAJA
bypasses him instead, wrapping her arms around some random guy’s neck. JJAJA
The guy is clearly caught off guard, but he doesn’t dare complain. She leads
him into the living room where the music is, and his hands land on her hips,
squeezing. She’s putting on a show, rolling her body seductively, and the
poor guy doesn’t even know it’s not for him. Adrian’s eyes burn a hole into
the back of his head, and I can’t help but laugh. When I grow up, I want to be
just like Natalia. Balls of steel.
I stand near the counter, not really wanting to venture outside, but also
not having any desire to mingle with randoms. I recognize a lot of these
people—some of them friends with my brother, and others that graduated
when I was a freshman—but I don’t know any of them well enough to call
them friends.
“Hey, little Vale, right?” a guy who’s vaguely familiar says, invading my
personal space. He has light brown hair and kind eyes. Very red, high on
marijuana eyes, but kind nonetheless.
“Heyyyy,” I say, letting the word linger between us, unsure of his name.
“Tanner,” he supplies.
“Right.” I snap my fingers. “You graduated with my brother. How are
you?”
“I’m good, I’m good. Just graduated from MIT and came back for a
visit.”
A stoner engineer. Impressive. Before I can respond, the sliding glass
door opens, and Asher is suddenly at my side.
“Can we talk?”
“What, now?” Surely he wouldn’t break it off in a public place. Right?
His nostrils flare, cutting a glare at what’s-his-face, probably not liking
the fact that I’m making him talk in front of him.
“Yeah, now.”
I lift a brow.
“Please,” he grudgingly tacks on.
I give an apologetic wave to stoner engineer guy and reluctantly follow
Asher.
 “I really don’t think this is the place,” I say, pausing before the stairs.
“My brother is here. All his friends are here. And this,” I say, gesturing
between us, “does not look good.”
“I don’t give a fuck what it looks like, and I don’t give a fuck who knows
anymore.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

There it is. That little spark of hope that Asher is so good at giving me,
just enough to keep me on his string. I hate that it’s there. I hate that some
part of me believes it’s different this time. And I hate that it has me accepting
his proffered hand and following him upstairs.
He tries a door, but it’s locked. The next one is the bathroom. But the
third time is a charm. Or so we think. The room is dark except for a light
from the closet off to the right, but I can just barely make out two figures on
the bed. I laugh when I hear moaning and go to close the door, until I hear
something that stops us both in our tracks.
“Fuck me, Jackson. Fuck me like you want to fuck her.” NO PUEDE SER SE JUNTARON LOS
CUEROOOOS

Whitley? I’d know that voice anywhere. Like nails on a chalkboard. And
Jackson? I don’t even think they know each other.
“You get off on this, don’t you?” The voice that I know to be Jackson’s
asks as his bare butt moves between her spread legs, and I can’t look away.
Why are we still watching this? “You like knowing you can have what she
does? That it?”
“Yes,” Whitley whines. ASCOOOOOOOOOOO
“Briar,” he growls. “Fuck yeah, Briar.” My eyes widen, and I feel like
I’m going to vomit all over my shoes.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” Whitley grits out.
“Why not? It’s what you want, right?”
“No!” Whitley smacks him in the face, and to my shock, he slaps her
right back. Whitley moans, clearly enjoying their depravity as Jackson pins
her hands to the bed. I sneak a glance at Ash to gauge his reaction, but he
doesn’t look at all surprised. Disgusted, maybe, but not surprised. It makes
me wonder what kind of sex they had together.
I’ve seen enough of their fucked-up little games. Tugging on Asher’s
hand, I start to lead him away from the doorway. He’s stiff. Unmoving. And
the hard angles of his jaw are sharp enough to cut glass right now.OH SHIT
“You wanna do something Briar never did for me?” Jackson asks, and
Whitley moans her response. Asher’s head cocks to the side—like a predator
zeroing in on his prey—hands squeezed into fists, and I know I need to get
him out of here in about one second, or all hell is going to break loose.
“Suck me off.”
I hear some rustling around, and I try again to pull Ash away, to no avail.
He’s rooted to this spot.
“She won’t suck my dick, but she’ll get finger fucked in public like a
whore. Do you want to be my whore, Whitley?”
Whitley gives a breathy yes.
Ash lunges forward, and I bring both hands up to clasp his face between
them. To force his focus on me. I shake my head, silently begging him to
walk away. This isn’t worth it. They aren’t worth it. Who cares what two
shitbags say or do together?
“I’ve seen the bite marks he leaves on her. Maybe that’s what she’s into.
Maybe she just needs a little more convincing next time,” Jackson says
ay diablo ay diablo ay diablo
darkly.
Everything happens in slow motion. I see the minute his eyes turn black. I
see the second there’s no going back. rikoo

Ash rips his face from my hands.

Kicks the door open.
Whitley screams.
Jackson springs away from her.
There aren’t any words exchanged. Asher charges at him in the dark, and
I hear the sickening sound of fist meeting flesh and bone. I slap at the wall in
search of the light switch. I finally find it, bathing the room in brightness, and
see Asher straddling a very bloody Jackson.
I bolt toward them, trying to pull Ash off Jackson without leaving him
vulnerable to getting hit.
“Stop!”
“Briar, get the fuck out of here!” Ash yells, not taking his eyes off
Jackson, one hand gripping his polo shirt by the collar. Jackson’s jeans are
around his ankles now, exposing his boxers. He tries pulling them up, but he
can’t reach with Asher crushing his abdomen with his weight. Jackson throws
a fist, grazing Ash’s cheekbone, but he doesn’t even flinch.
Whitley takes her time adjusting her skirt, then stands back by the
window, arms crossed. Asher lifts Jackson by fisting his collar with both
hands and throws him into the desk, sending a computer and a lamp flying.
“I told you what would happen the next time you so much as looked at
her,” Ash says menacingly before cracking his forehead against Jackson’s.
He pulls back, and Jackson’s head lulls to the side against the wall for a beat,
dazed, before he regains control. “You’re lucky you’re even alive,
motherfucker.”
Ash cocks back and lands punch after punch. Whitley still stands there,
looking mildly entertained, if anything. This isn’t going to end well. If I don’t
break this up soon, Asher is going to end up in jail, and Jackson in hell.
Because he’s going to kill him.
Coming to a decision I know I’ll regret even before I act on it, I run out
into the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. I have no other choice.
“Dashiell!” I scream, cupping my mouth with my hands. “Adrian!
Someone get my brother!” The music is still loud, but my screams are louder.
I run back to the room, hoping someone heard me. I can’t get through to Ash
right now, and I don’t have the physical strength to stop him.
They’re rolling around on the floor, and it’s all Jackson can do to block
his face from the blows.
In a last-ditch effort to get through to him, I wrap my arms around
Asher’s waist as he pummels Jackson. He pauses, hesitating, fist poised for
another hit. I press my lips to his spine, resting my forehead in between his
shoulder blades.
“Please, baby. Stop,” I beg him.
“What the fuck?” Pools of blue that match mine meet my guilty ones as
Dash barges in, taking in the scene before him.
Asher whips his head around, panting and heaving with exertion. His
black hair has fallen into his eyes, and he flips it out of the way with a jerk of
his chin. Dash shakes his head in disbelief, and Adrian stands with his arms
folded across his chest, eyebrows pinched together, with his usually playful
demeanor nowhere to be found.
“Dash—” I start, backing away, but before his name leaves my lips,
Jackson takes advantage of the distraction and clocks Asher. Not expecting
the hit, his head flies back, and he stumbles, almost taking me out. I lunge for
Jackson, suddenly no longer concerned with his safety. I slap and claw at his
face for all of two seconds before he shoves me away and all three guys are
on him, pinning him back against the wall.
“What the fuck!” my brother yells. He has Jackson’s right shoulder,
Adrian his left, and Asher? Asher has his throat. “Somebody better start
fucking talking. Now.”
A feminine giggle reminds me of Whitley’s presence, and we all turn to
see what could possibly be funny. She stands there, black thigh-high socks
askew, laughing and shaking her head. Next to her is a glass mirror with little
white lines cut into rows, a rolled up hundred-dollar bill, and a credit card on
top of the nightstand.
“You’re so fucked up, Whit,” Adrian says. “This is low, even for you.”
Her face falls, her eyes narrow, and I already know what’s coming. She’s
about to drop a bomb that’s going to leave my world in ashes without giving
one, single fuck.
“I’m fucked up?” she screeches, pointing a finger in our direction. “You
four want to act like you’re all so close. So loyal. Untouchable to outsiders.
But you’re the fucked-up ones. You’re keeping more secrets from each other
than you know what to do with.”
I lock eyes with Asher, both of us mentally bracing ourselves for what we
know is coming. I want to tell my brother about us. I want to tell the world
about us. But not like this. It shouldn’t come from Whitley.
Adrian huffs out a laugh, letting go of Jackson, and starts toward the
door. “I’m out.”
“Let’s start with you, then, Adrian,” Whitley says. He pauses and turns
around, throwing his arms out in a hit me with your best shot gesture.
“I bet no one here knows that you can’t get it up. At least not without
your best friend there. Why is that? Could it be that pussy just doesn’t do it
for you?”
What is she talking about?
“No, it’s just yours that tends to kill my boner,” he strikes back, but I can
tell her jab hit its intended target from the way that he grinds his jaw and
clenches his fists.
“He’s not gay. That’s enough, Whitley,” Dash says in a low, threatening
tone. She turns her attention to him, lifting one perfectly arched brow. Dash
releases his hold on Jackson, but Asher keeps him pinned by his throat.
“Why? Because you don’t want your precious little sister to know how
messed up you really are? How you like to share girls with Adrian. How you
both fucked me together, night after night, even in high school.”
Her eyes glow with victory, dying for my reaction. I bite the inside of my
cheek to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. I knew Adrian was into some
freaky shit, but there are just some things you don’t need to know about your
brother. Dash won’t so much as meet my eyes, and I hate Whitley right now.
I hate her for all of this.
 “And what about you?” I snap. “You have literally slept with everyone in
this room besides me. Did Daddy not love you enough? Or is this because of
Asher? He doesn’t want you, Whitley. Why can’t you accept it? Sleeping
with all his friends isn’t going to make him jealous.”
I know I’m being harsh. I hear the words being spewed from my mouth
like verbal diarrhea, but I can’t stop myself. Whitley is toxic, and she’s
hurting every single person I love with her brand of poison. I’ve put up with
her for years. But this? This is too far.
Whitley’s mouth snaps shut, and her face reddens.
“You,” she says, pointing a finger at me, “are one to talk, Little Miss
Make Out Slut. You’ll shove your tongue down anyone’s throat, but when it
comes to fucking, no one gets you off like your brother’s best friend.”
And there it is. My pulse races, and I hear my heartbeat in my ears that
are now on fire. All eyes are on me. No one speaks. Dash begs me with his
eyes to deny it, but I won’t lie to him. Jackson laughs, despite Asher’s fingers
closed around his neck, but Ash doesn’t show any emotion whatsoever. His
face is completely blank, but I know what he’s doing. He’s bracing himself
for the fallout. Slipping that mask back into place.
“I mean, sure, you screwed Jackson in an attempt to get over Asher. But
even that was a one-off. Not that I blame you, though,” she whispers
conspiratorially, holding her finger and thumb an inch apart in the universal
sign for tiny penis, with her bottom lip jutted out in a fake pout.
“What the hell, Whit?!” Jackson yells, while my brother says, “You
fucked my sister?”
“Since we’re all sharing secrets,” Jackson shoots back, “do you want to
know the real reason Asher had to leave?”
“Jackson, no.” Whitley shakes her head, looking genuinely nervous for
the first time. My heart sinks, stomach full of dread. Even Asher seems
confused. What could Jackson possibly know about Asher leaving?
“Whitley saw you guys that night,” he starts, and Asher’s grip on his
throat tightens. “In Dash’s room. She saw you in the window.”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” my brother, who is rapidly losing
patience, asks.
“She knew right then she’d lost him, so she snapped a picture before
Dash caught up and sent it to Daddy Vale. He’s the one who had him sent
away. All because she was jealous.”
What? How?
 My dad has made his feelings for Asher clear, but he would never do
something like that. And if he did, he would’ve mentioned knowing, right?
Asher drops his hand abruptly, bringing both hands behind his head as he
paces back and forth, letting this new information sink in. She did this. I
underestimated her. I thought she was just a typical high school mean girl:
Gothic edition. I never thought she’d be capable of something like this. I
shouldn’t be surprised, yet I still am.
“She was fourteen!” Dash shouts, and from the sheer outrage in his voice,
I know this is going to be bad. “You were with my sister when she was
fourteen?”
“No, it wasn’t like tha—” I try, but Dash lunges at Asher, only to be held
back by Adrian.
“You fucking piece of shit,” my brother says between clenched teeth. “I
let you into my house. I trusted you with her. Instead, you fucking preyed on
her! She’s a child!”
Asher wipes his bloody nose with the back of his hand and sniffs.
“I didn’t fucking touch her, man.”
“So, she’s lying?” Jackson stabs a finger in Whitley’s direction. “You two
haven’t been seeing each other behind my back?”
“Not back then, we weren’t. I fought it when she was younger. I fucking
fought it as hard as I could.”
“I’ll kill you.” WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
“I love her.” AKJJSBCJSBJCJDCBHVFURIEOWQ
My mouth drops open. Love. Asher loves me. And he’s admitting it in a
room full of people. The words are right, so right, but the timing is so wrong.
Dash rushes Asher, and they both go down. Jackson takes the opportunity
to slip out of the room like the coward he is, and both Adrian and I try to
break them up. Asher is doing his best to block my brother’s hits without
actually doing any harm, but after a few good punches, I can tell his
graciousness is wearing off, and he’s close to fighting back. In all the years
that Dash and Asher have been friends, they’ve never come to blows.
“Knock it the fuck off!” Adrian shouts, separating them with a palm to
each of their chests. I step in front of Asher just as Dash throws another
punch. Ash shoves me out of the way and I stumble toward Whitley, but I
catch myself. I turn my attention back to Dash and Asher, still trying to find
my footing when I feel something abruptly pull me backward by my hair. I
throw my arms out and try to twist around to brace myself for the fall, but
something sharp hits my temple and then…nothing.
Black. EL DIABLO Y SU MADRE, SE MURIOOOJA XCIC
Just black.
 CHAPTER 13

ASHER

I
anger.
’m going to fuck Dash up. That’s my only thought as I push Briar out of
the way right before his fist makes contact with her face. I get it. I
fucked up. But he’s putting Briar in danger because he can’t see past his

I hear Whitley scream, and from the corner of my eye, I see Briar go
down. She hits the side of her head on the table next to Whitley, sending the
tray of coke flying. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Briar!” I scream her name, but she doesn’t move. Whitley stands there,
gaping, and brings her hands to her mouth. I drop to my knees. I want to
shake her, to lift her head and force her to look at me, but I know I shouldn’t
move her. Blood pools under her head, and I look to Dash, who’s white as a
fucking ghost.
“Call 911!”
Adrian breaks out of frozen fear, frantically feeling around for the phone
in his pocket.
“Briar, baby, wake up. Why the fuck isn’t she waking up?!”
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Memories flash through my
head of seeing my mom just like this, and I shake my head, violently, to rid
myself of the images assaulting my mind. This is Briar, and this is different.
Everything is muffled, but I recognize Adrian’s voice relaying the address
to the police. The party below us still goes on, completely oblivious to what’s
taking place above their heads. Carefully, I try to move Briar onto her side. I
think I remember reading that you’re supposed to do that somewhere, and I
can’t sit here and do nothing. HE IS FUCKING DOING SOMTHING YOU SRE NOT DOING
ANYTHING MALDITO DASHIELL
“Get the fuck away from her,” Dash says, breaking out of his shock.
“You’ve done enough!” He steps forward and kneels next to her. His shaky
hands reach out to touch her, but he stops himself. “You fucking pushed her.
You did this!”
No.
No.
“Walk the fuck away, Ash.”
But I can’t. I won’t. Even if that means the end of my friendship with
Dash. I pick Briar. I’ll choose Briar every fucking day if I have to.
She’s still not waking up. Shouldn’t she have woken up by now? I want
to argue with him. Tell him that I was trying to protect her from him, not hurt
her. But, as I see her crimson blood spreading across the hardwood floor, I
know that there has never been a clearer sign in my life. I’m no good for her. NO FUISTE TU
FUE WHITLEY
“Whitley!” Adrian snaps, and she jumps, her eyes darting up to his. “Get
everyone out of here. The party is over.” She nods, panicked. “Now!” Adrian
shouts, and she finally runs out of the room.
“Dash, keep her head and shoulders elevated, but don’t move her neck.”
Dash closes his eyes and blows out his breath. “Okay. Okay, I got it.”
“Kelley, go get a clean towel or a washcloth or something. We need to
stop the bleeding.”
I don’t want to walk away from her. I feel like if I do… I can’t even go
down that road. She’s going to be fine. She just bumped her head. Ignoring
the fear that grips my throat, stealing all my air, and the blood on my boots, I
bolt into action.
“How do you know all this? She’s going to be okay, right?” I hear Dash
ask Adrian as I’m walking out the door.
“When your mom is a doctor, you pick up a few things over the years.”
I don’t hear Dash’s response. I run down the hall toward the bathroom we
almost went into before. Fuck, how was that only twenty minutes ago? How
did everything get this bad in so little time? I barge in on a couple—some guy
getting head as he sits on the toilet and a redhead between his knees—and
yell at them to get the fuck out. They both jump up, and he trips over his
pants as they run away.
“Fuck!” I can’t find a towel. Darting back into the hall, I see a door that’s
narrower than the others and hope to fuck it’s a linen closet. I grab two thick,
white towels and one washcloth and rush back to the room.
“She hasn’t woken up?” I ask, sliding the towels underneath her head.
The longer she’s unconscious, the more I’m filled with a feeling of pure
dread. Wisps of her blonde hair are stuck to the blood on her temple and
cheek. Dash balled up his T-shirt, stopping the flow of blood, and he removes
it to let me hold the washcloth there.
“Where the fuck is the ambulance?” Dash’s panic-stricken voice echoes
my thoughts. It feels like it’s been hours, but in reality, it’s probably only
been about two minutes since she fell.
“I’m going to make sure everyone’s out of the way and wait for them,”
Adrian says, leaving us alone with Briar.
“I can’t…” I start, but my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “I
can’t lose her. She’s the only fucking good thing in my world.”
“Stop. The only reason you’re still here is because my sister needs me
right now.”
I want to tell him to try it. Just fucking try to make me leave. But now
isn’t the time. So, we wait in tense silence for what seems like days, until the
paramedics or EMTs or whoever the fuck they are pile into the room. There’s
about six of them, two of them carrying a stretcher.
Natalia comes barreling in on their heels, all the color gone from her face.
“Oh my God!” she shrieks.
“How long has she been unconscious?” one of the paramedics asks.
“I don’t know, fuck, maybe ten minutes?” Dash answers.
“What’s her name?”
“Briar Vale.”
“Briar, can you hear me?” another one asks, squatting down and checking
her pulse. When she doesn’t respond, he presses his knuckles hard against the
center of her chest.
“The fuck are you doing?” I bark, just barely stopping myself from
smacking his hand away. I think I see her stir, but I can’t be sure.
“I’m testing her level of consciousness. Has she had anything to drink?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I reply, but, fuck, I’m not sure. “She hit her head
on the corner of the table.” I gesture to the nightstand and realize that no one
even thought to clean up the drugs and paraphernalia. It’s the last thing I’m
worried about—it’s not my shit—but the disapproving look the medic shoots
me tells me he thinks he’s got us all figured out.
“She wasn’t drinking,” Natalia chimes in, twisting her hands together. “I
gave her a cup of that punch, but she set it on the table without taking a sip.”
“And she doesn’t fucking do drugs,” I add pointedly.
“Okay, let’s get her to the hospital.”
Briar’s loaded up onto the stretcher and carried downstairs. My stomach
rolls, and for a second, I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t help but draw
parallels to the way I lost my mom. The unresponsiveness, the blood. My
phone rings, but I don’t even look at it before hitting the fuck you button.
She’s fine. She has to be.
Once outside, they ask who’s riding with her to the hospital, and both
Dash and I step forward.
“Only one,” the medic snaps, looking between the two of us impatiently.
“And figure it out soon or neither one of you is going.” He turns his attention
to lifting Briar into the ambulance, and even though I want nothing more than
to fight for my place next to her, I know I need to let this one go.
“The only way you’re riding in the ambulance with her is if you’re in a
goddamn body bag,” Dash says in a low, threatening voice.
Shaking my head, I walk off wordlessly toward my truck. Except I’m
blocked in by two other cars.
Fuck!
I’m seriously debating on hot-wiring a car—it’s what I fucking do best,
after all—when Natalia rolls up and motions for me to jump in.
“Need a ride?”
Tears are streaming down her face, but she tries to play it off with a
shaky, unconvincing smile. Most of the time, Natalia is a pain in my ass.
She’s loud and opinionated, and I wish she came with a mute button. I
tolerate her at best. But right now, we are the same. Two people who are
trying to keep their shit together while the most important person in their
lives is sitting in an ambulance.
I climb into her flashy little sports car that costs more than most people’s
homes. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the gear stick, and she stalls out.
She smacks the steering wheel, and a frustrated growl leaves her mouth. I can
tell she’s losing it. Really fucking losing it. We don’t have time to waste, so I
place her hand on the shifter and cover it with my own. Her eyes shoot up to
mine.
“Get it together. Briar needs us.”
“Okay. Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself.
“Breathe.”
 She does, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
“Now, let’s fucking go.”
She turns the key and pushes in the clutch, and this time, she doesn’t stall.
She accelerates, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to the blue and red
flashing lights, and stays on their tail all the way to the hospital. She follows
it all the way up to the emergency entrance and lets me jump out before going
to park the car.
I run toward the ambulance as they unload the stretcher that carries my
fucking heart. The first thing I notice is that Dash is talking to her, reassuring
her that everything is okay.
She’s awake. She’s fucking awake.
“Briar!” I yell as I get closer, and her panicked eyes follow the sound.
“Asher? What happened? Asher, please.” She sounds desperate and
confused, and I tell myself not to panic that she doesn’t remember. That it’s
common with head injuries. Right?
“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
They wheel her into the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights and
bustling of the busy ER are a stark contrast from the quiet night sky.
“You both need to wait out here,” one of the paramedics says over his
shoulder. “Someone will be out to update you soon.”
“Asher, please don’t leave me,” Briar says, right before they go through
the double doors that we aren’t allowed to pass.
“I’ll be here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” I shout after her.
And it’s true. Nothing and no one could make me leave her. I pace the
waiting room, hands crossed behind my head, while Dash opts to take a seat.
I try to distract myself by counting the square tiles on the ceiling and making
out shapes in the water stain that seeped through.
After a while, I notice him staring at me, his eyes following my every
move with his arms crossed, expression contemplative.
“What?” I snap, annoyed.
“She asked for you.”
Briar?
“When?”
“She asked for you right when she came to, and then she told you not to
leave her. Not me. Any time she fell and scraped her knee or any time she
forgot her lunch, she’d call me. Not my parents. Me. But she asked for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know where he’s going with it,
either. So, I don’t respond. After another minute or two, he breaks the silence
again. OF COURSE SHE DOES ASSHOLE
“She loves you,” he says grudgingly.
I pause my pacing, and even though the words aren’t coming from her,
my heart starts to pound harder at the thought. I know he doesn’t mean like a
brother or a friend, or he wouldn’t be upset at the idea.
“Yeah, well, I fucked that up.”
Why couldn’t I have just walked away? My actions caused this.
I take a seat two chairs away from him, with my elbows on my knees and
my head in my hands. My phone rings again, and I silence it. Not a second
later, Natalia comes barging through the doors like a bat out of hell. She’s
still in her party dress, but her shoes dangle from her fingers.
“Where is she? Is she okay? Have you heard anything? They need better
fucking parking. It took me ten minutes to find a spot. That’s not really
conducive to an emergency situation,” she yells.
Annnnd, the motor mouth is back.
“Calm down, turbo. She’s awake, but we aren’t allowed to go back yet,” I
say, dropping my head back down.
“She’s awake,” she repeats, equal parts shock and relief lacing her Dash
tone. “Thank fuck.” Natalia tosses her shoes underneath the chair between
Dash and me before collapsing into it like a sack of potatoes.
My phone goes off again from my pocket, and this time I’m ready to kill
whoever is calling me. I check the screen—it’s a private number.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
“Hi, yes, may I speak with Asher Kelley?” a man’s deep voice asks.
“This is a bad fucking time. Whatever you’re selling I’m not interested.” I
almost hang up, but his next words stop me.
“It’s about your father. John Kelley? This is Doctor DuCane from Banner
North. I need you to come to the hospital.” His voice is firm, but somehow
soft, and deep down, I already know what’s coming.
“I, uh, I’m actually here already,” I say, plugging one ear with my finger
and angling my body away from Dash and Natalia. “Is he okay?”
“Oh,” he says, sounding surprised. “Where are you? I’d like to come
speak with you personally.”
The burning dread that had lessened to warm coals is back with a
vengeance with each passing second.
“I’m in the emergency waiting room. Is he dead?” I ask bluntly, cutting to
the chase. “Just fucking tell me.”
I feel two sets of concerned eyes on me, but I ignore them both. I don’t
need anyone’s pity, and I don’t need this fucking doctor to come hold my
hand. FUCK..
“I’m on my way to you now,” is all he says. I hang up the phone, flipping
it around in my hands without looking up.
“Everything all right, man?” Dash asks tentatively.
I don’t respond.
“Asher?” This time it’s Natalia’s worried voice.
“I’m fine.” My harsh tone is enough to shut down any further questions.
We sit in tense silence for I don’t know how long before a man in a white
coat calls my name.
“Asher Kelley?” His eyes scan the room. There aren’t many people in
here, which is unheard of for a weekend. A couple of moms and their sick
kids, an elderly couple, and us. I stand, stuffing my hands into my front
pockets.
“Is this your family?” he asks.
“No,” I say at the same time Dash says, “Yes.”
The doctor looks confused, but doesn’t press.
“Can you both come with me?”
Dash hesitates, looking back at Natalia, and she assures him that she’ll
call him if there is any news on Briar. He nods, and we follow Dr. Bad News
to a private room.
The room has a couple of chairs, a coffee table with magazines, a TV, and
some miscellaneous games for kids, but is otherwise empty.
“Can you tell me what you know of your father’s condition?” he starts.
“He has liver failure.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. “That’s about
all I know.”
“Yes. His condition has been worsening over the past couple of weeks.
Were you aware?”
I clench my jaw. He didn’t tell me that. He didn’t even hint at it.
“No,” I say through gritted teeth.
“His nurse found him when she went in for her shift.”
“His nurse?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Maybe
he has the wrong guy. “My father didn’t have a nurse.”
“He finally agreed to hospice care about a week ago. He didn’t tell you
that, either?”
 “No, I guess not.”
He steps forward, his hand coming down to my shoulder. I stare at it. He
continues, “We did everything we could. Unfortunately, his cirrhosis was too
advanced.” mierda

He keeps speaking, but I don’t hear the words. “We did everything we
could.” Everyone knows what that means.
At some point, Dash starts answering for me, though I still can’t make out
any of their conversation. My mom is dead. My dad is dead. Briar is lying,
hurt, somewhere in this hospital. And the common denominator is me.
“Would you like to see him?” The doctor’s voice breaks through my
thoughts. I shake my head. What’s the point, right? He’s dead.
“Let me know if you change your mind, but it needs to be relatively
soon,” he says gently, holding out a card. Dash takes it. “My cell is on the
back. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Again, I’m very sorry for
your loss.”
Another shoulder pat, then he’s gone.
“Asher…” Dash says, letting my name hang between us. The words
sound foreign from his mouth. He doesn’t call me Asher. He calls me Kelley.
I don’t think he’s called me by my first name once in the six years we’ve
been friends. And for some reason, it enrages me. It makes everything more
real. He wouldn’t be calling me that if shit weren’t fucked up.
I knew this was coming. It’s the whole reason I came back. So, why does
it seem like the rug has been pulled out from beneath me?
Dash’s phone buzzes, and he reads the message on his screen.
“The nurse said Briar’s okay. She just has a mild concussion, and we can
see her in a few minutes.”
I’m relieved, so fucking relieved, but I feel heavy. Like a dark cloud is
over my head, tainting everything and everyone I come in contact with.
Dash walks toward the door and pauses, looking back at me when he
realizes I’m not making a move to leave. “You coming?”
“I just need a minute.”
He dips his chin in acknowledgment and pats the doorframe. He hesitates
—searching for the right words—but there aren’t any, so he walks out,
leaving me to the maelstrom of emotions going through me.
My mom died because of me. My dad essentially died because he
couldn’t handle life without her, which again, comes back on me. He died
alone. That one’s my fault, too. And Briar. If I hadn’t insisted on going
upstairs. If I had walked away from Jackson, instead of letting my rage
control me, she wouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come back. And if I stick
around much longer, I’m sure it will be too late for her, too.
Dash and Natalia are waiting on me. Briar’s fucking waiting on me. My
father is waiting on me. I don’t want to face any of them, and stronger than
anything I’ve ever experienced is the urge to bolt. I can’t fucking be here. I
feel like I can’t breathe. My pulse hammers in my ears, and the room spins
around me. Bending over and bracing my hands on my knees, I squeeze my
eyes shut and try to suck in air, to no avail. I can’t get enough into my lungs.
I need out. Out of this room. Out of this hospital. Out of this town. Then,
maybe I’ll be able to breathe again.
YOU PROMISED ASHER DIABLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
 CHAPTER 14

BRIAR

M y head is pounding. That was my first thought when I woke up in

an ambulance, followed closely by how did I get here? Dash
explained what happened, and slowly, the events of the last hour
started coming back in pieces. Fighting. Lots of fighting. Lots of revelations.
More fighting. Whitley pulling me backward by my hair. Then, darkness.
Once we got into the room, the nurse took my vitals and helped me
change into a hospital gown before the doctor came in to examine me. Now,
besides having a splitting headache, I feel fine. I want to get out of here so I
can talk to Asher—privately—about everything that went down. I can’t wrap
my mind around everything that came out tonight.
The door slowly creaks open, allowing a sliver of light into the room,
followed by a light knock.
“Bry?” my brother asks.
“Come in.”
Dash and Nat step in with uncharacteristically long faces.
“Whoa, who died?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood, but they don’t
laugh. They share a look that sends my heart free-falling to my feet.
“Are you okay?” Nat asks, changing the subject. She comes to sit on the
bottom of the bed next to me and brushes my hair out of my face to assess the
damage.
“I’m good,” I say, looking between them. “Did something happen?”
Natalia looks up to Dash for permission, and that right there tells me that it’s
bad. Since when does she defer to him? Or anyone, for that matter? Dash
shakes his head.
“Tell me,” I demand. “Is it Asher? Is he okay?”
Dash’s nostrils flare, and I don’t even care to have the good sense to be
sensitive to the fact that he just found out that his little sister and his best
friend have been sneaking around behind his back.
“He’s fine, but his dad died tonight.”
My hand flies to my mouth, and I feel my eyes welling with tears. I swing
my legs over the edge of the bed, needing to find him.
“Where is he?” I ask, hopping down. “I need to be with him.”
“Hell no, sis,” Nat says, pushing me back toward the bed. “I get it. I do.
But you need to make sure you’re okay before you go saving someone else.”
“She’s right. Besides, he said he’ll be here. He just needed a minute to
wrap his brain around everything.”
I reluctantly agree, sitting back and pulling the cover over my freezing
legs—why are hospitals always so cold, anyway? But somehow, I know
Asher isn’t coming. I can feel it in my bones.
The doctor walks back in, stopping to wash his hands at the sink. “So, I
have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” he says by
way of greeting.
“Good,” I answer, because I’m not sure how much more bad I can handle
in one night.
“Well, the good news is that you’ll be fine. Slight concussion. No need
for a CT scan or anything like that since you weren’t unconscious very long
and you’re not having any prolonged amnesia. It’s been about two hours
since you got here, so we probably would’ve noticed by now if things were
going to take a turn for the worse.”
I nod, relieved.
“And the bad news?” Dash asks, arms folded across his chest.
“The bad news is that you have a nasty gash there,” he says, pointing two
fingers in the direction of my head, “and you’re going to need a couple of
stitches.”
“That’s it? When can I go home?”
“Well, seeing as how it’s…” he turns his wrist over to check his watch,
“three in the morning, I’d rather have you stay here for a few more hours just
as a precaution. I’ll let you go before shift change at around eight. Sound
good?”
 No, it doesn’t sound good at all, I want to say. Ash needs me. But I don’t.
I let him stitch me up, try to convince Nat and Dash to go get some sleep, and
watch Supernatural reruns for the next six hours, all while calling Ash over
and over until my phone finally dies.
It’s eight forty-six by the time the doctor comes in with my discharge
papers. I’ve been dressed and ready to go since seven.
“All right, Miss Briar,” he starts, flipping through the paperwork. “You
have a mild concussion. You might have a headache for a few days, so try to
take it easy. Unless you’re planning to play any contact sports, you should be
good to go back to life as you know it.
“Here are the do’s and don’ts and what to watch for. If you experience
any of these things,” he instructs, circling a section with his pen, “come
straight back to the hospital. Any questions?”
“Nope,” I say, signing his copy. He gives me one more warning about
taking it easy, and then we’re free to leave.
“I need to find Asher. Do you know what room his dad is in?” I don’t
waste any time asking. Both Dash and Nat shake their heads. Ignoring their
protests, I run in the direction of the nurses’ station with both of them trailing
behind me. I smack my hands down on the desk, feeling out of breath and a
little dizzy, but I can’t focus on anything other than finding Ash right now.
“Hi, can you tell me what room John Kelley is in?”
The tired nurse doesn’t even look up from her computer.
“Are you family?”
“No. It’s my boyfriend’s father,” I lie, ignoring the disapproving look on
Dash’s face at the word boyfriend. I don’t know what we are, but “my
sometimes fuck buddy, and sometimes enemy” isn’t going to get me the
information I need.
“I’m sorry,” she says, finally looking up at me beneath thick-rimmed
glasses. “I can’t release patient information unless you’re family.”
“Okay, then that’s my father,” I say through clenched teeth as Dash pulls
me away by the elbow, apologizing on my behalf.
“Briar, you need to calm down. He wouldn’t be in his room. He’d be in
the morgue by now. You’ve had no sleep and a fucking concussion. Let’s go
home. Maybe he’s there,” Dash says, and Nat nods in agreement.
I know he’s just trying to get me back home, but I agree because he could
be right. If I know Asher at all, he’s not sitting at John’s bedside. He’s either
running or trying to numb any of the feelings that threaten to penetrate his
wall of indifference. And everything he owns is currently at my house, so it’s
a good a place to start as any.
Ignoring the throbbing in my temple, we make our way toward the exit
and pile into Nat’s little car. I take the back seat, thankful for the chance to be
alone with my thoughts. I close my eyes and rest my head against the black
leather. So many different thoughts war for my attention. My dad sending
Asher away and never saying a word. Whitley’s part in all of this. God, all
these years, I thought she was just an annoyance. I had no idea that she was at
the root of everything. What must Asher have thought of me? This entire
time, he thought I betrayed him. That explains why he was so cold to me at
first, but why would he ever get close to me again? And John. Gone, just like
that. It’s hard to believe we just visited him, and he was up, walking around,
eating food, and carrying on a conversation. It’s funny how everything can
change in an instant. And by funny, I mean fucked up.
Any hope that I had dies the moment we pull up to the house and Asher’s
truck is nowhere to be found. My pulse quickens as I punch in the code and
walk inside. I can smell the faint trace of his cologne, and I can’t figure out
whether it’s real or just my desperate mind willing it to be.
I go straight for the media room. His bag is gone. I check the hall closet
that he sometimes used—nothing but sheets and blankets—and right here and
now, I know he’s gone for good. Only this time, it’s so much worse. He let
me fall in love with him. And he let me have just a taste of what it felt like to
be loved by him, too. Then he took it away, leaving that hole inside of me
even hollower than before.
I don’t know what it is—the weight of everything hitting me at once, or
maybe just the lack of sleep—but I break down. Tears flood my face before I
even feel them coming.
“He’s gone,” I cry, turning around, and Natalia’s in front of me in an
instant, bringing my head to her chest and shushing me like a child as she
runs her hand down the back of my head in a soothing gesture. “Why did I let
it happen again? Why do I do this to myself?” I knew I was playing with fire.
I was bound to get burned. But rebellious hearts know no consequences. Bad
habits are easy to make and impossible to break, and Asher was the worst
addiction of them all. I let him crawl inside my body, and he burned me from
the inside out, leaving nothing but ashes in his absence.
“Bry,” Dash says in a hushed tone, and then I feel his hand on my
shoulder. I turn to face him, and he pulls me in under his arm. I hug his waist
to keep from slumping to the floor. I’m just so tired. Tired of lying, tired of
sneaking around, of being hurt, of trying to please everyone.
“Why would Dad send him away?” I ask through the lump in my throat.
“None of this makes sense.”
Dash kisses the top of my head and squeezes my shoulder.
“I don’t fucking know, but I’m going to find out.”
He says it with such conviction that I don’t doubt him for a second. And
even though Asher is gone and nothing in my world seems good, I take
comfort in the fact that I have my brother on my side. Someone who loves
Asher as much as I do.
“Listen to me,” Dash says with more authority than I’m used to hearing in
his voice. “I know you’re upset, and I know that everything is fucked up. But,
I need you to get some rest. I’ll make you something to eat, and then you
need to sleep.”
I don’t argue, because I know he’s right. Only I don’t know how I’m
supposed to sleep when my whole world was just turned upside down.
Natalia follows me to my room, and I pull out my favorite bloodstained T-
shirt before climbing into bed and curling up in a ball on my side. Nat settles
in behind me. We lie in silence for a while, waiting for Dash, as she plays
with my hair—my occasional sniffle or hiccup the only sounds. I must be a
pathetic sight right now, crying into Asher’s T-shirt as my best friend tries to
console me, but I’m too pathetic to even care in this moment. My head hurts
from crying—or the fall, or maybe both—and my stomach growls, reminding
me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.
I close my eyes, pretending that Ash is still here. He’d sneak into my
room and wrap his arms around me, telling me that everything would be
okay. That no one else matters but us. If I try hard enough, I can feel his
breath on my neck and his stubble against my cheek. Eventually, exhaustion
beats heartbreak, and I feel myself drifting off to sleep with Asher’s ghost.
 CHAPTER 15

ASHER MMG MMG MMG MMG MMG MMG MMG MMG

ONE WEEK LATER…

“T he fuck!” I groan, my voice hoarse as hell as I’m woken up by

freezing water being sprayed on me. Where the fuck am I, and
why is it so bright? I shield my eyes from the sun with my
forearm and survey my surroundings. I’m in someone’s front yard, facedown
in the grass. Not just anyone’s lawn—Dare’s—and he’s standing over me
with the hose pointed in my direction.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he deadpans. I have a solid thirty seconds of being
blissfully unaware before I remember why I’m here and the events that led up
to it. I ran, literally ran, the four miles from the hospital to Adrian’s place.
Hopped in my truck, drove to Briar and Dash’s to grab my shit, and then hit
the highway, heading straight for River’s Edge. I showed up at Dare’s door
twelve hours later, then told him about the last couple of months, while I
drank myself into oblivion. How did everything get so fucked up?
“You had your pity party. Time to man up and deal with it.”
“Fuck off, Dare. I don’t need your big brother shit right now.”
“I don’t really give a shit what you think you need. I know from
experience that you’re about to spiral, and then you’re going to spend the rest
of your life regretting it. Trust me on this one.”
That might be the most Dare has ever divulged about himself in one
sentence. I know something happened, and I’ve always gotten the feeling that
it was a tragedy, but I’ve never asked him. Dare likes to talk even less than I
do.
I stand up, brushing off the pieces of grass stuck to my bare stomach and
follow Dare inside. The house is just like I remembered it. A cabin style
home with vaulted ceilings sitting right on the lake. It’s still pretty bare. A
couple of couches in front of a huge stone fireplace. A couple of rooms with
beds upstairs—one of them mine—and not a lot else. Not even a TV, which
has made for a very boring week. Dare’s been tattooing at the new shop he
opened, and I’ve been doing a lot of drinking myself into oblivion and
sleeping. Rinse, repeat.
“It’s been a week,” Dare says, handing me a cup of coffee, his not-so-
subtle way of sobering me up. “You need to bury your dad, man.”
The mug is scorching, but I ignore the burn as I clench it so tight that I
expect it to shatter in my hands. I’ve been in contact with the funeral home.
John made most of the arrangements on his own. He’s to be buried right next
to my mom. He was an organ donor, which is pretty goddamn ironic if you
ask me, so the process takes a little longer than it would otherwise. And now,
they’re just waiting on me. But I can’t go back. I won’t.
Briar. Just thinking her name feels like a fist around my heart. I left her in
a fucking hospital bed. She was only there because of me in the first place.
“Asher, please don’t leave me.”
Her voice haunts me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I promised her I
wouldn’t leave her, and even though it’s for her own good, I can’t stop
picturing how it must have felt when she realized I wasn’t there, and again
when it was clear that I wasn’t coming back. I told her this would happen.
This, right here, is what I was trying to avoid. But, what I feel for Briar
transcends logic, rules, and societal norms. She’s so deeply ingrained in me,
that I’m not even me without her. My best side was her worst creation.
None of that matters, though. I’m not the one for her. I don’t belong in
that town with those people. Briar is inherently good, while I’m rotten, and it
only takes one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch.
 CHAPTER 16

BRIAR

DAY EIGHT

M y parents are coming. It took them an entire week to check the

voicemail that the doctor left on my mom’s cell phone, informing
them that their daughter was hospitalized. To their credit, they
hopped on the next flight out, as soon as they heard. The utter despair I’ve
been feeling for the past week shifts into anger, and my blood boils thinking
about my dad’s part in all this. My father isn’t the softest man in the world,
not by a long shot, but I didn’t think he was capable of something like this.
Especially not when it hurts his own children. But, clearly, I was mistaken.
I stretch out my legs from the fetal position I’ve spent the majority of the
past week in and yawn. I’ve done nothing but sleep and watch Tombstone
from my bed. I can’t even use the media room anymore because it hurts too
much. He managed to ruin my favorite place.
“Fucker,” I mutter under my breath.
I’ve called the funeral home, but they didn’t have any information on
services planned for John. He wasn’t a bad man. He was a man who
sometimes did bad things. A man who couldn’t deal with all the hurt inside
him, so he pushed his son and everyone else away while he quite literally
drank himself to death. My worst fear is Asher suffering the same fate. I
thought I could be that person for him. I thought I could make him happy.
Because even through all the dysfunction, the sneaking around, and the lies,
he made me happy. He made me whole. I promised myself I wouldn’t let him
complete me. I didn’t want to fall in love. Falling in like, and then losing him,
was hard enough.
I hear the shrill, neurotic voice of my mother coming through the front
door, her heels clacking against the hardwood floors. My father is silent, but I
know he’s with her. I blow out a deep breath, rolling onto my back, bracing
myself for them to come barging through my door. Swinging my legs over
the side, I sit up on the edge of the bed.
“Briar!” Mom shrieks, running into my room. She bends at the waist,
taking my face in her hands, checking to see if I’m still whole. And I am, on
the outside, save for some stiches and some gnarly bruises. But the inside is
another story. I don’t speak. I don’t move. I’m limp as I stare straight at my
father while she checks me over. He’s foreboding in his sharp suit and
crossed arms. He looks ruffled. Concerned. But it’s all an act. His tall frame
takes up the entire doorway, but he doesn’t intimidate me one bit. Not right
now. A loaded gun wouldn’t scare me at this point.
“Sweetheart,” Mom says, tipping my chin up to force me to look at her.
“What’s going on?”
“Ask him,” I say, jerking my chin out of her bony fingers.
My dad doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. He arches a brow,
jaw clenched, and straightens his tie.
“What is she talking about?” Mom asks, looking genuinely confused.
Maybe she wasn’t in on it. Maybe he didn’t even tell her.
“That’s a good question, Nora. Because I don’t have a goddamn clue.”
“Oh, so you didn’t have Asher sent away?”
“Asher?” Mom questions. “What does that boy have to do with
anything?”
I roll my eyes at her referring to him as that boy when she’s known him
for years.
“Of course, I did,” he shocks me by saying, not an ounce of apology in
his tone. “I get an anonymous email, at work, no less, containing a photo of
my fourteen-year-old daughter lip-locked with the trash of the town.”
“Excuse me?!” Mom interrupts.
I’m fuming. My face and ears get hot, and my nails dig into my palms,
leaving bloody, little half-moon indents.
“He was nearly an adult, preying on my child. A drug addict. He was
corrupting both you and Dash. I could’ve had his ass thrown in jail. Probably
should’ve. I was pretty generous, if you ask me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I stand, walking closer to him. He appears
slightly taken aback. Like I’m overreacting, and he hasn’t a clue why.
“You have no idea what you set in motion. What your actions caused. He
thought I betrayed him this whole time. That I sent him away and used you to
do it.”
“No, dear daughter, that was all him. He’s responsible for his own
actions.”
“You almost got him killed!” I scream, unable to stay calm any longer.
“You sent him to someone even worse than his father, and he almost didn’t
make it out alive.”
My mom’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us, like she’s
watching a tennis match, as she struggles to put the pieces of the puzzle
together.
“How could you just play with someone’s life like that? You think you’re
God? You’re a coward hiding behind money and power. And you’re not the
man I thought you were.”
I’ve finally broken through that cool exterior. He takes a calming breath,
nostrils flaring, as he steps closer, pointing a finger in my face.
“Not God. But I am your father. And I will do what I think is best for my
children, regardless of how it rates on your moral meter. He’s bad news,
Briar. A predator. And I wasn’t going to wait around until you figured it out
for yourself.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, batting the angry tears away from
my face. God, I’m so sick of crying. “Because you’ll never be half the man
he already is. He’s kind and good and loyal and resilient. He’s overcome
more in his twenty-one years than you could even dream of.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, and his reaction pushes me
to hammer in the final nail in my coffin. What’s the worst he could do? The
damage has already been done.
“I love him.”
My dad’s face reddens, and I think his teeth might crack under the
pressure of his steeled jaw. Without saying a word, he turns on his heels,
slamming the door behind him. He slams it so hard that the framed picture of
Dash, Ash, and me falls from the shelf next and shatters onto my desk below
it. My mom scurries over to clean it up, sweeping the shards into her hand.
 “Mom. Stop.”
She doesn’t.
“Mom.”
She bends down, picking pieces out of the carpet.
“Mom! I don’t care about the fucking glass right now!”
That finally gets her attention. Her head snaps up, eyes wide.
“Of course, you don’t. You’ve never cared about making messes.
Someone has to care about the mess!”
I get the feeling that she’s not talking about the state of my room. She
looks like she’s holding back tears, and I wonder if something else is going
on. Her tone softens when she sees my shocked expression. She drops the
glass into the trash can next to my desk and brushes off her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I was so worried about you when I got the
message. And then I felt like the worst parent on the planet. What kind of a
mother doesn’t know her own child is in the hospital?”
“It’s okay,” I’m quick to assure her. “I had Dash.” But the truth is, it’s not
okay. And I don’t know why my first instinct is always to placate her.
“I envy you, Briar Victoria. Your brother has the title of being a rebel, but
you… You’ve always marched to the beat of your own drum, even when it
drove me insane.” She laughs bitterly.
She couldn’t shock me more if she decided to slap me in the face.
“Doing the right thing comes naturally to you,” she adds. “That’s why I
wasn’t worried about you staying behind when we moved. Knowing the right
thing is easy. Doing it is the hard part. You’ve never had that problem. So, if
you think that Asher is worth your heart, then I have to trust that. I know
better than anyone what happens when you don’t follow your heart.”
This is the first time my mom has ever, in my life, said something like
this. She’s always been so closed-off, and though I’ve never once doubted
her love for me, I never felt like she understood me. She’s prim and proper,
and everything is black or white in her eyes. I’m messy, and I see the world
in shades of gray. But seeing her this raw and unfiltered humanizes her. I feel
like I’ve seen the first glimpse of Eleanor Vale the person, not the mother.
Closing the distance between us, I wrap my arms around her neck,
hugging her tightly. She’s stock-still for a moment before she hugs me back
just as tight and kisses the uninjured side of my head.
“So, where is he?” she asks, pulling back, wiping the wetness from under
her perfectly lined eyes.
 “Asher?” I ask.
“I’m assuming he’s the one who’s been staying here? It was his truck that
was in the driveway that day, wasn’t it?”
I nod, feeling guilty for the first time about keeping it from her.
“And to say that he’s why you disappeared from the fundraiser would be
a safe assumption?”
I clear my throat and look away and sit down on the bed, suddenly feeling
embarrassed. Like she knows exactly what happened up on that balcony.
“I figured as much,” she admits, raising a brow. “You were always close.
A little too close. And very protective of each other.”
I almost laugh, because it’s true. Asher has always been that way. But I’m
just as protective of him. I’ve always felt the need to come to his defense and
shield him from the condescending comments and judgment from the people
of Cactus Heights, even when I know he’d rather I kept my mouth shut. He
always thought he wasn’t good enough, but the opposite is true.
“That’s because he’s worth protecting. I knew it even then.” I feel those
stupid tears stinging my eyes again, and I pick at the nonexistent lint on my
duvet.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” Mom confesses, her forehead
wrinkling in confusion. “Why are you upset?”
“John Kelley died the night I was in the hospital.”
“Oh my God,” she says, sitting down beside me on the bed.
“Ash didn’t take it well.” I don’t know why I’m telling her any of this. It
doesn’t feel natural, like I need to keep my secrets and feelings guarded. I
keep waiting for her disapproving look or her condescending tone. But at the
same time, I so desperately want to have this kind of relationship with her.
She made an effort, so now it’s my turn. “This time it’s over for good, and
I’m scared to death about what that means.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He thought you sent him away, right? And he still came back to you.”
“He didn’t,” I argue. “He came back for his dad.”
“That’s not what I said. He may have come back for his dad, but he came
back to you.”
It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s a moot point. If he cared, he wouldn’t have
left me in that hospital room after I begged him to stay. Even if he did decide
to come back, it’s too little too late. I could forgive him, but I couldn’t ever
forget.
 CHAPTER 17

ASHER

I stare at the old message on my screen, like I’ve been doing for the past
hour, ignoring the texts from Dash and Adrian and everyone else. Briar
was texting me “Glycerine” lyrics the other day before any of this
happened. Lyrics about not letting the days go by. Lyrics that I could admit
are fitting, if I wasn’t so stubborn.
I can still remember the night I played it for her. She closed her eyes, her
long lashes resting on the tops of her still-round cheeks. Her black combat
boots—that I was ninety-nine percent sure she begged her mom to buy her
because I wore the same kind—were covered in dirt and dust and dangled off
the hood of my car as she listened. She fell in love with that song, and I
watched it happen. It was one of the first times I had ever felt like I had
anything to offer Briar. I didn’t have money. I didn’t have anything, but I
gave her a song and she liked it.
I think about responding. I type and delete, type and delete, before
deciding against it. This is how it needs to be. I smooth my hair back with
both hands before dropping my head to the back of the couch. She didn’t do
it. This entire week has been a daze. I haven’t had time to process anything
that went down except for Briar getting hurt and my dad dying. Fucking
Whitley. I should’ve known she would stoop to that level. That girl is made
up of equal parts jealousy and daddy issues.
All this time, I thought Briar was lying. And she had no idea why I hated
her—no idea that her own father was in on it. Fuck, there’s no going back
now. I’ve put her through too much. The sound of her pleading with me not
to leave haunts me every fucking day. Every hour. Every minute. I couldn’t
set aside my feelings for once and just fucking be there for her.
Sound familiar? A voice in my head taunts me. The realization hits me
like a goddamn freight train. I’ve turned into my father.
“Hey, fucker,” Dare barks, snapping me out of my self-loathing. “I need
your help on the roof tonight. There’s a storm coming, and I have about three
days to finish it. That is, unless you’ve got someplace else to be…” he trails
off, in a not-so-subtle hint to deal with my life back in Cactus Heights.
“Jesus Christ, you nag worse than a chick.”
“Well, fuck. Someone has to. So, either get your ass on my roof or go
home. And for fuck’s sake, take a shower. You’re starting to smell like
roadkill.”
I hurl one of the couch pillows at his head, but he smacks it away. I
scratch at a week’s worth of not shaving. He has a point.
“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be up.” Dare shoots me a look I don’t
care to decipher. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was disappointed
with my answer.
“What?” I ask, irritated.
“Nothing,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I just never
took you for a pussy.”
“Fuck off.”
I know I need to go back. I need to bury my dad and put Cactus Heights
and everyone in it behind me—once and for all.
And I will.
Just not today.

BRIAR

TWO WEEKS.
Two weeks have gone by, and it feels like an eternity. I called the funeral
home yesterday, and they said John wasn’t having a service, but they did get
the green light to proceed with the burial. If Asher’s back, or planning on
attending, I haven’t heard anything about it. My brother only knew John as
the guy who beat the shit out of his best friend. Not the guy who was so
overwhelmed with grief that he couldn’t function. Not the man who became a
pseudo friend to me when I didn’t have anyone else. So, it’s safe to say he’s
not going. Not to mention the fact that Dash still isn’t happy about us. I see it
in the way his jaw hardens when Asher’s name comes up, and the hurt in his
eyes when he’s faced with the reality that we both lied to him, repeatedly.
Two selfish hearts, hiding and lying and sneaking, with blatant disregard to
anyone else.
I thought about not going. Why should I? I barely knew John in the grand
scheme of things, and it’s not like he was the best person in the world. Would
Asher be upset by my presence? Is it appropriate for me to attend? All of
these questions ran through my mind, but my gut kept telling me that none of
that mattered. All morning, I’ve been thinking about that pigeon—the one
Asher buried for me when I was a kid—and I had my answer.
With one last glance into the mirror, I take in my old black combat boots
and matching knee-high stockings. My face mostly devoid of makeup. This is
a day for mourning, after all. Mourning the death of the grieving father who
hasn’t really been alive in years. Mourning the boy who lost both parents too
soon. But most of all, I’m mourning the death of Asher and me. He
abandoned me in that hospital. He broke his promise. Today is the day I bury
the idea of us for good.
I tuck my wavy hair behind my ear, smooth the skirt of my simple black
dress, and take a fortifying breath. The house is empty and strangely silent
when I step out of my room. Dad went to stay at a hotel the first night before
catching a flight back to California the next day, while Mom opted to stay
with me for a few days. It was weird, but…nice, having her around. And I
have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of her.
Dash, Adrian, and Nat have been taking turns handling me with kid
gloves. I’ve told them repeatedly that I’m fine, and I am. I think. Nat had to
do inventory for her mom’s shop today, and I talked my brother and Adrian
into going to letting me breathe for five minutes, so I’m alone for the first
time since the incident. That’s what I’m calling it now. It easier than saying,
“That night when everyone’s secrets came to light, I got a concussion,
Asher’s dad died, and then he left me without a word. Again.”
 I walk outside, and the heat chokes me, even though it’s gloomy and
overcast. The sky mimics my somber mood as I make my way to my car. I
pause, halfway down the walkway when I see them. Mom’s succulents. I
bend over, plucking two of them from their place in the garden. The excess
dirt crumbles to the pavers at my feet. I’m reminded of the pigeon once again
and how Asher risked crossing my mother by picking one of her precious
succulents to give it a proper burial.
I’m on autopilot as I turn the ignition and drive to the All Souls
Cemetery. I carefully place the plants into the bag in my passenger seat,
thinking about how everything has changed in just a couple of short months.
It’s been messy and emotional and awful and wonderful. People say it’s
better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, but those people
have never been in love with Asher Kelley. He doesn’t dole out his love
freely. He’s stingy with it, and when you’re on the receiving end, it feels like
you’ve been awarded this extremely rare gift. Being loved by him is magic,
but being left by him is tragic.
It’s surreal. I’ve driven past this cemetery more times than I can count.
But it was never anything more than scenery, until now. I never thought
about what was actually behind those gates. Inching past them, I find myself
looking for Asher, without making a conscious decision to do so. I give
myself a mental slap to the face. He’s not coming. He’s doing what he does
best. Running.
The parking lot is crowded, so it takes me a few minutes before I find an
open space. I follow the signs for tier nine, and plot forty-two, stopping to let
a mob of grieving men, women, and children make their way to their loved
one’s gravesite. Funny how people die every day, but the world keeps
spinning, blissfully unaware. It makes me feel small and insignificant in this
big world.
When I finally find plot forty-two, there’s one, single man standing with
his head bowed, hands crossed in front of him with a Bible clasped in his
fingers.
“Excuse me,” I say, pulling out my phone to double-check the
information I was given. “Am I late?” The elderly bald man looks up, shock
written all over his face.
“No,” he says, clearing his throat. “You’re the first one.”
I nod as I check the time—five after noon. He stands near the double
headstone that reads Kelley in all capitals, with Isabel’s name on the left and
John’s on the right. The dates aren’t carved in on his side yet, and I think of
how incredibly bizarre and depressing it must be to plan your own funeral.
We wait in silence for another ten minutes before it’s clear that no one
else is coming.
“Shall we proceed?”
I’m tempted to tell him not to bother. That it’s just me, and he doesn’t
need to go through the trouble. But that doesn’t feel right, so I bow my head
politely, while he makes his speech and says his prayers. When he asks if I
want to say a few words, I’m caught off guard. But, I’m the only person here,
after all. I approach the oak casket with hesitant steps.
I don’t know what to say. I feel like it’s a betrayal to say anything good
about him, but I also feel that it would be a disservice to send him off without
a kind word.
“I once read that true redemption is when guilt leads to good,” I whisper,
scooping up a handful of dirt from the bucket in the officiant’s outstretched
hands. “And you’ve done good, John. You healed a piece of Asher’s soul.” I
sprinkle the dirt onto the casket before thanking the man. I start to walk
away, but then I stop short and pivot back around.
“Almost forgot,” I say, kneeling next to the headstone. I fish the
succulents out of my bag and place them both in the middle—one for each.
I stand, dusting off my stockings, take a deep breath, and walk away.
 CHAPTER 18

ASHER

M y father didn’t want a service. Maybe he didn’t want to be a

burden, or maybe he was afraid no one would show—which
wouldn’t be off-base. Even I struggled with the decision. I wasn’t
going to come. In my mind, attending his burial meant excusing every single
shitty thing he’s ever done. Every mistake. Every bad decision. I was too full
of rage and resentment to have any room for reason or rationale.
After I sobered up for the first time since that fucked-up night, I realized I
didn’t want to become my father. I didn’t want to be on my deathbed,
wishing I could go back and change it all. Dare insisted on driving me, and
we hauled ass to get back into town at the crack of dawn. I was late, but I
made it before I was forced to add yet another regret to my list. Two men
were in the process of lowering him into the earth. Once they saw me
approach, they stopped turning the handle to the device that lowered the
casket. Silently, they walked away, one of them dipping his head as if to say
take your time.
So, here I am, peering down at the box that holds what’s left of my father.
The man who raised me. He never took me fishing or camping. He wasn’t the
type. But he never missed a swim meet, and I knew he loved me underneath
that tough exterior. It’s also the man who later neglected me, abused me, and
blamed me for my mom’s death. I didn’t fault him for the last one back then.
I blamed me, too. But, fuck. I was just a kid. A kid who needed his fucking
dad.
 I look over to the left, seeing my mother’s grave, and my throat gets tight.
Every year, it gets harder to hold on to the memories, but I can still recall the
way she smelled, like vanilla and coffee. And how she’d stay up until all
hours of the night to help me beat Donkey Kong or Zelda—or whatever video
game I was into at the time—but in reality, she was just as hooked as I was.
Even then, people had something to say about our family. We never fit in.
My parents weren’t perfect. I remember being in third grade when I heard
one of the other moms talking about my parents. She said she was too young,
dressed too provocatively, and wanted too much attention. My dad didn’t
make enough money, drank too much, and didn’t care to rub elbows with the
right people. We were branded as being white trash, but back then, we were
happy.
I think about how I would’ve reacted if I were in my dad’s shoes. How
would I cope if the love of my life died in such a sudden, tragic way? Briar
pops into my head, unbidden, with her long, blonde hair and the face of a
fucking angel. I know without a doubt, if anything ever happened to her, I’d
burn the fucking world down. I’m not excusing him or the things he’s done.
It simply means I can understand him.
I’m truly alone now, I think to myself. I don’t have any family left, except
my piece of shit uncle who’s either lying low or sitting in jail, judging by the
fact that I haven’t seen or heard from him since he tried to act tough at my
dad’s house. And I’ve managed to fuck up my relationships with the only two
other people I considered family—three if you count Adrian. I’m sure I’m on
his shit list by default.
A hand claps down on my shoulder, reminding me of Dare’s presence. He
doesn’t say anything, just offers his silent support. His way of reassuring me
that maybe I’m not completely alone. He knows better than anyone how
scary a place your own head can be. Everyone has regrets, but some people
are consumed by the mistakes of their past. Dare is one of those people.
“I’ll wait in the truck,” Dare says before walking away.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, unsure of what to say, what to do. I feel
like I should have some epic last words. Something deep and life-changing.
But I don’t. So, I say the only thing that feels right. The only thing that’s true.
“I forgive you.”
And I do. Not for him, but for me. Because I don’t want this shit to define
me or control me. I look up to their shared headstone, and something catches
my eye that I didn’t see before.
 Succulents. Purple fucking succulents.
Everyone deserves to be buried by something pretty.
I step forward and squat down to inspect them closer, turning one with
my fingertips. Fresh dirt still clings to the roots as if they’ve just been
plucked. She came, even though she hates me—even though I abandoned her.
She was most likely the one person to show up for my dad’s burial.
God, that girl. Could she be any more perfect? Could I be any more
undeserving? Through it all, it’s always been Briar. Even when she was just a
shy, yet curious kid, she cared for me. Defended me. Cried for me. Me, the
asshole who took advantage of her childish crush and left her without a word,
only to come back and fuck with her head some more. Me, who never gave
her the benefit of the doubt, and just assumed she’d be quick to betray me,
though she’d never given me any reason to believe she would.
I know I said I’d let her go—that it was for her own good—but I’m too
selfish to stay away. Family isn’t just about who shares your blood. It’s about
who bleeds for you. Needs you. And I’m fucking done allowing anything else
to matter. Not her parents or even Dash. Not our age difference. Not the fact
that she’s the epitome of everything good in this world and that I’m
constantly walking the line between right and wrong. This is right. We are
right. Fuck everything else. EXACTO GODAMMIT
I place the succulent back down onto my parents’ headstone and stand,
filled with purpose for the first time in, well, ever. I need to find Briar.

T he minute I see Dash’s truck in the drive, I know I’m going to have to
prove myself to two people, instead of one. Mentally preparing myself
for the fight, I take a deep breath and raise my fist to knock on the door.
“Is this a fucking joke right now?” Dash says upon opening the door. He
glances behind him briefly before slipping out the front door and closing it
behind him. “The fuck do you want, man?”
“I need to see her.”
Dash huffs and turns his back on me.
“Wait,” I say as his hand grasps the lever. He pauses. “I know I fucked
up, but give me the chance to make it right with her.”
It’s awkward, talking to him like this. About his sister, no less. But Briar
has a way of kicking my pride to the back seat. Dash turns around, and the
eyes that match Briar’s are filled with contempt.
“There is no making it right,” he says through gritted teeth. “You
betrayed our friendship. You took advantage of her, and then you left her
when she needed you. There’s nothing else to say.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to
rein in my temper. I’m doing my best to play nice. I know I’m in the wrong
here, but he doesn’t know what Briar and I have. He doesn’t know how deep
my feelings for her run. He doesn’t know that it’s always been her. I just need
a chance to fix it.
“If you care about her, let her go. Stop dicking her around. She’s having a
hard enough time as it is.”
“Is she okay?” I ask, immediately concerned.
“Just let her go,” he says, shaking his head and stepping inside.
And then I’m left staring at the closed door. But I can’t let her go. I don’t
know how.
 CHAPTER 19

BRIAR

I power off my phone and toss it into the drawer of my nightstand. Asher
has texted and called more times than I can count. I can’t bring myself
to read the messages. It’s hard enough to stay away. I’m afraid I’ll cave
after a few carefully plucked words, and then I’ll be in the same position once
more, a couple of months down the line. Empty. Lost. Broken.
It took every ounce of strength I had not to at least hear Asher out when
he came to my door yesterday. Everything inside me was screaming to love
him and nurture him and just be there for him. To see how he was coping
after his loss. But it’s all so convoluted now, and some addictions can only be
overcome by quitting cold turkey. The withdrawals won’t last forever; you
just have to be strong enough to survive them.
When Dash came back inside, he tiptoed around me, like I was some
fragile creature, waiting to see if I was aware of Asher’s presence. I didn’t
say a word. I let him think I was oblivious. What difference does it make,
anyway?
“You good?” Natalia asks, zipping my suitcase. Natalia’s mom offered
me a job at her boutique, and Nat just signed a lease on a condo and extended
me an open invitation to stay for a week or forever—her words, not mine. I
decided to take her up on it and get out of Dodge for a while.
Standing up to my parents and informing them of my plans to take a year
off seemed like nothing in comparison to recent revelations. Mom took the
news pretty well. I still haven’t spoken to my father, but I know he’s unhappy
with the news, if the voicemails he left on my phone are anything to go by.
Dashiell’s at least working on a degree from somewhere, even if it’s not
Dad’s school of choice. Not going straight to college at all is unacceptable in
his eyes. The pressure and weight of indecision and uncertainty were lifted,
only to be replaced by the crushing weight of Asher’s absence.
“Yep,” I say, forcing a smile, but she sees through it, giving me a sad one
in return.
“You’re not curious about what he had to say?” Nat asks skeptically, with
a nod of her chin toward the drawer.
“Of course, I am,” I say bluntly. “But that’s how you fall into old habits.”
She chews on her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s trying desperately not to say
something.
“Spit it out.” I sigh, stretching out on my stomach on the bed next to her.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“You didn’t see his face, Bry,” she starts. “He was climbing the fucking
walls at the hospital, and he blamed himself for your fall. Dash didn’t help
matters,” she mumbles the last part.
“What do you mean? I told you guys—it was Whitley.” She’s the one
who caused my fall, in more ways than one.
“Dash insists Asher pushed you, and honestly, I think it’s easier for him
to blame Ash for everything.”
“He pushed me out of the way. It was my brother who almost hit me,” I
argue.
“Either way,” she shrugs, “they both blame him. Then once he got the
news about his dad, I think it was just too much for him.”
“Whose side are you on?” I try to joke, but it falls flat. “You guys don’t
even like each other.”
“Yeah, well. Things change. And I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t
give it to you straight.”
“I just hope they can figure it out,” I admit sadly. Even though I know
he’s no good for me, I don’t want him to be alone in this world.
“It’ll all work out,” she says reassuringly.
“Hey, whatever happened with Adrian?” I ask, suddenly remembering her
mission to make him want her.
“Ugh.” She sighs, rolling her eyes, playing with the tips of her scarlet
hair. “That was nothing. Just a game we were playing.”
She’s avoiding eye contact, and something in the sound of her voice
makes me wonder if there’s more to it than she’s letting on. But, Nat doesn’t
keep secrets. She tells me everything.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on my bedroom door, and we both turn in the
direction.
“We’re dressed, Dash. You can come in.” Nat giggles, snapping out of
whatever that was. She’s been staying with me a lot, and Dash walked in on
her undressing the other day. He still hasn’t recovered. That, coupled with the
fact that I now know way more about his sex life than any sister should, he’s
been extra skittish lately.
But it’s not Dashiell that walks through my door. It’s Whitley. Her black
hair that’s usually sleek and flat ironed to perfection is in a frizzy ponytail,
and her face is devoid of makeup. She twists her hands in front of her
nervously. Once the initial shock of her standing in my bedroom wears off,
Nat springs into action and stands in front of me, blocking Whitley’s view of
me.
“You have two seconds to walk your Emo-Barbie lookin’ ass out of this
house.”
“Your brother let me in,” she says over Nat’s shoulder in a meek voice
that sounds completely foreign coming from her. I make a mental note to
punch Dash. Why in the hell would he let her anywhere near us?
I want to throttle her. To cause her physical, bodily harm for causing
Asher more pain than he already had to endure. For setting this whole
fucked-up thing into motion. How can one person be the root of so many
problems? But something in Whitley’s tired, defeated expression has me
listening to what she has to say.
“What do you want?” I ask through my teeth, and Nat still doesn’t move.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? For having Asher sent away? For lying about sleeping with
him? Or is it for sending me to the hospital with a concussion?”
“All of it,” she cries, swiping tears off her pale cheeks. “I know, I’m
fucking awful. I don’t know why. I’ve always been this way. I’ve never had
friends,” she says, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
“This is not the time to play the victim,” I inform her.
“I’m not,” she snaps, mindlessly scratching her forearm in a nervous
gesture. “I’m just trying to explain. I see myself doing these horrible things—
feeling this intense jealousy that consumes me—and I can’t stop. But when
you wouldn’t wake up…” She leaves the sentence hanging in the air.
 “You could have killed her,” Nat seethes. A little dramatic, maybe, but
not technically false.
“I know. You just have everything. Asher, Dash, Adrian. People are
drawn to you, want to protect you, take care of you. You have friends and
people who love you. I had Asher for a minute, but then you took him from
me. And then, I had nothing. It’s just so easy for you.”
“Easy?” I scoff. “Yeah, life has been a real treat these past few months.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just couldn’t understand why it couldn’t be
like that for me. Is there something in me that makes me unlovable?”
Whitley’s scratching intensifies, and she doesn’t even seem to be aware that
she’s doing it. Her forearm is red and raw, and I’m realizing that Whitley’s
issues are probably much more involved than I ever knew. “I just snapped.
And I’m so sorry, Briar. For everything. I just needed to tell you.”
“Don’t be sorry for me, Whitley. Be sorry for you. I may not have Ash,
but I can sleep just fine at night with the things I’ve done. Can you?”
It’s a lie, a flat-out fucking lie, that I sleep well. I’ve probably only slept a
handful of hours total since that night, but she doesn’t need to know that. I go
through the what-ifs night after night. What if I never went to that party?
What if I tried harder to convince Ash to leave with me? But more than
anything, what if I never kissed him in front of the window that night three
years ago? But I can live with myself knowing I’ve never intentionally hurt
anyone, and that’s more than Whitley can say.
“No,” she admits, with an edge in her voice. “But I’m trying to fix that.”
Honestly, the fact that she still has an attitude—that she hasn’t had a
complete personality transplant—gives me hope that maybe she will be better
in the future. That this is genuine. Maybe it makes me a fool, but I believe
her.
“Well, good luck,” I say, a little snidely, but genuine nonetheless. She
nods before turning to leave, but pauses in the doorway, looking back at me
over her shoulder.
“He’s always loved you, you know. I think I knew it before he did. I
knew it because he looked at you the way I looked at him.”
My throat gets tight, and my eyes burn. But I won’t cry. Not in front of
her.
“Bye, Whitley.”
 CHAPTER 20

ASHER
PERO DIABLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A nother week has passed. Another seven days of not talking to Briar.
Another one hundred sixty-eight hours of sitting around my dad’s
house, taking care of everything he left behind. I’ve trashed most
of the stuff that was salvageable, only keeping things of sentimental value.
I’ve put off his room for as long as I could, saving it for last. I haven’t so
much as set foot in it since I’ve been back, unprepared to face the memories
of my mother.
I twist the cheap gold doorknob and push. I’m relieved to find that it’s
nearly empty, save for a bed, their tall maple-colored dresser, and one small
wooden box that lies in the middle of the floor. Curiosity gets the best of me,
and I squat down to get a closer look.
It’s a keepsake box that my mom used to stash random things in, like
jewelry, birth certificates, social security cards, family photos, and the like.
It’s about the size of a hardback book with a tree carved into the top. I open
it, expecting to find the aforementioned things, but instead, I find a manila
envelope with my name on it.
Dread. It creeps into me slowly, occupying every part of my being, as my
shaky hands reach out to pick it up. It’s heavier than I would have thought. I
peel it open, dumping the contents onto the floor, and the first thing that spills
out is money. A lot of it. I don’t count it, but it has to at least be a few
thousand dollars. What the fuck, Dad?
The next thing I notice is a folded-up piece of paper. I unfold it to find a
letter written in my Dad’s handwriting.

Asher,
If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone. I’ve known it was coming for a
while now. Expected it, and accepted it, even. I never thought I’d get the
chance to make amends with you before my time was up, and maybe we
didn’t, but I want you to know that I died happy, having had somewhat of a
second chance with you.
I didn’t do much right as a father or a human, and I know I can’t take credit
for the man you’ve become, but you’ve made me proud nonetheless. I failed
you in so many ways, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Know that it was
never your fault, even when I couldn’t see it myself.
The cash enclosed is what Alexander Vale offered me to have you sent away.
I knew I couldn’t say no. He would have had you thrown in jail, or worse. I
thought by making you leave, I was doing the right thing by you. But I’ve
never been good at making the right calls; that was your mother’s
department.
I never spent a dime of this money and always intended for this to be yours.
Same with the house. Burn it, sell it, keep it, whatever you want, because it’s
yours.
I guess this is the part in the letter where I should impart some words of
wisdom. The truth is, I’ve never been very wise, but I’ll give it a try.
I hope that when love finds you, and I suspect that it already has, you’re able
to hold on to it forever. And if, for some god-forsaken reason you lose it, you
don’t end up like me. Don’t let it break you. You’re stronger than that.
Stronger than me.
Second chances don’t come around very often. Third chances are even more
rare. If you’re lucky enough to get one, don’t waste it.
I hope that when you become a father, you forget everything you learned
from me. Love like your mother. Love like Briar. Love like you.
And most importantly, never piss in the wind.
Love, Dad

drop the letter and attempt to sort out the emotions that slam into me all at
once, fighting for the spotlight. I feel sad and angry and relieved and hopeful

I and…at peace. Closure. That’s what this must be. I feel like I can finally
let go of it all. All of the loss, all the grief, all the bad.
For the first time in my adult life, I decide to take my father’s advice. I’m
not letting my chance with Briar slip away. But first, I have some things I
need to take care of.
 CHAPTER 21

BRIAR

H e’s gone. For good. I know this is what I wanted, or what I need to
happen, rather, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Adrian admitted
to me the other day that he’d been in contact with Asher. I wasn’t
mad. I was curious. Maybe a little jealous, but not mad. My brother, on the
other hand, has been a bit more stubborn. I can’t pretend to know what it
would feel like to have my best friend lie to me, but I’d like to think that if
the roles were reversed and Nat and Dash wanted to be together, I wouldn’t
stand in their way. It would be weird and a completely different dynamic, but
who am I to tell them what they can and can’t do? Dash argues that it’s
different.
Adrian told Dash that Asher had gone back to River’s Edge a few days
ago. I don’t know what I expected. For him to fight for me and pine for me
forever? To stay in this town where he has almost no one? Of course not. But
it stings.
I’m listening to “Glycerine” on repeat, feeling sorry for myself, when
Adrian calls, interrupting my song.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, using his nickname for me.
“Hey, Ade.”
“What are you up to today?”
“I have the day off, so I’m just hanging out at Nat’s.”
“What do I have to do to get you to come have lunch with your favorite
brother-slash-lover?”
 I laugh, despite the morose mood I’ve been in for the last few weeks.
“Never say that again and you’ve got yourself a deal. Where do you want
to meet?”
“I’ll text you the address. See you in an hour?”
“Sounds good.”
“Wear something sexy!” he shouts into the phone right before I hang up,
and I catch myself laughing once again. Adrian is just good for the soul. Just
like everyone should have a Natalia, everyone should also have an Adrian.
My phone says it takes forty-five minutes to get there, back in the
direction of my house, so I pluck an olive-green T-shirt dress out of my
suitcase and slip on my black boots before walking out the door.
Once I’m close, I pull out my phone to double-check the address. I’m led
into a residential area, and I wonder if this is a shortcut or something, but as I
turn the corner, it says my destination is on the left.
What the hell? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I’m most definitely parked in front of a house, not a restaurant, and I pull
off to the side to call Adrian. But then I see him. Not Adrian. Asher. He’s
standing in the driveway, his thick eyebrows pulled together, hands behind
his back. Signature black jeans, a black V-neck, and black boots.
I’m not prepared for this. For seeing him again. For the way my stomach
flips in response to him. I should drive away. I almost do, but something in
his pleading eyes has me turning off the ignition and slowly opening the
door.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check, as I walk up to
him. We meet in the middle, and the look of relief on his face almost cracks
my heart in two.
“What’s going on? Where’s Adrian?” I ask, knowing this is some kind of
setup.
“I need five minutes. That’s it.” His dark hair hangs over one eye, and I
want to brush it out of his face. To hug him. To be held by him. To nuzzle
into his warm neck and take in the scent that belongs only to him. But I don’t
do any of that. Taking my silence as permission, he licks his lips and exhales
deeply before continuing.
“Sometimes, when you’re hurting so deeply for so long, you don’t feel
anything at all anymore. And then something or someone comes along that
gets under your skin, inside your blood, and makes you feel fucking
everything again. And all of that pain that you never felt? It all comes
flooding back. I didn’t know how to feel, Briar. Until you, with your big blue
eyes and your heart on your sleeve. You made me feel everything, and I both
loved and hated you for it. I wasn’t blessed with a perfect life, but I had you.”
“Ash,” I whisper, taking a step forward, but he stops me with a raised
palm.
“Please,” he says brokenly. “Just let me finish.”
I nod, waiting for him to continue.
“When your dad confronted me with a picture of us together and the
drugs he knew I had, I should’ve known you’d never have any part in that. I
convinced myself that you were like everyone else, shallow, and conniving,
and self-serving. It was almost easier, because that way, I didn’t have to
worry about those fucking feelings.
“And then when you hit your head, all I saw was my mom. I couldn’t
save her, and I couldn’t save you. I prayed—fucking prayed—for the first
time in my life. I bartered with God. I told Him if He let you be okay, that I’d
leave you alone. And you were okay, but then my dad died, and it was clearer
than ever. I needed to run, and this time I wasn’t going to come back. I knew
you’d be better off without me, and I planned on letting you go…” He
pauses, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. “Until I saw the
succulent you left at my parents’ grave.”
I suck in a breath, taking in everything he’s saying. He’s cutting himself
open and bleeding before me. He’s breaking my heart and making me whole
all at once. Tears are streaming down my face at his words, and I don’t even
try to wipe them away.
“I think I’ve loved you since you cried for that pigeon. There you were,
privileged and beautiful and had everything most people can only dream of,
yet you still cared about a fucking bird. And you cared for me. You showed
me your pure soul that day, and you showed it again when you went to my
dad’s funeral, and every day in between. And I’m too fucking selfish to give
you up.”
“What are you saying?” I ask skeptically, afraid to get my hopes up again.
“I’m saying I’m not running anymore, Briar. I’m staying here. With you.
And fuck anyone who has a problem with it.”
He grabs my hand and leads me inside the house. It’s not fully furnished,
but it has a few things, like a plush rug in front of a fireplace that’s probably
never been used and a simple white couch. It looks like it’s a stage home for
sale, and I wonder what exactly we’re doing here. He keeps walking us
through a tiled hallway, past some stairs, and into a kitchen.
“What is all this?” I ask, taking in the stainless steel refrigerator and
empty marble counters.
“I bought it.”
“You what?”
“I bought it,” he says again. “Or, I’m about to. I told you, I’m here for
good. For always. And I want you to be with me here, too.”
“Ash,” I breathe, tempted to pinch myself. This is all I’ve ever wanted.
And there was a time when I would have blindly said yes to anything he
asked of me, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that if something seems
too good to be true, it probably is.
“Isn’t this a little fast?”
“Fast? This has been six years in the making. We were always meant for
each other. We just did it wrong.”
“How do I know that this is real? I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you
again.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Even if you don’t move in. If you want to
stay at home, or in a dorm, or move to another state, we can figure that out,
too.”
“You’re serious,” I ask, but it comes out more like a statement. Asher
pushes off the counter and strides toward me, his multi-colored eyes blazing
into mine. He threads a hand through my hair at the nape of my neck and
ducks down so his mouth is level with mine. I keep my hands clenched at my
sides. I know if I let myself touch him, I’m done for. I’ll stand absolutely no
chance.
“I love you,” he says against my lips before pressing them to mine. I
close my eyes at hearing those words spoken to me for the first time. He told
Dash that he loved me, but hearing it like this is so much more. “I love every
fucking thing about you,” he says, pressing another kiss to my jaw, my neck.
“I love the way you smell, the way you taste.” He nips at the skin on my
shoulder. “I love the way you love, recklessly and unconditionally. I love this
body...” Ash’s hands smooth down my back to rub my ass through the thin T-
shirt dress, and my breath hitches. A tear slips free, and he licks it up,
bending to grab me by the back of my thighs. He lifts me into his arms, and
my legs wrap around him, like they were meant to be there. “And how it was
made for me. I loved you even when I hated you. And that’s how I knew I
didn’t hate you at all.”
 I swallow past the lump in my throat, looking into the whiskey and jade
eyes of the boy that I’ve always loved. They search mine, begging for me to
put him out of his misery.
“I love you, too. I’ve loved you forever.”
At my confession, he props me up onto the counter. He holds my face in
both hands before devouring my mouth with his. His tongue pushes inside,
and I suck on it, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat. We pour
everything into this kiss. Every ounce of pain and love and longing and lust
and betrayal. Every secret, stolen moment. Every tear, every orgasm, every
touch.
Asher pulls back and lifts the hem of my dress as he sinks to his knees in
front of me. Starting at the soft skin below my belly button, he peppers
kisses, dragging my dress up along the way. Right before he exposes my
braless chest, his eyes lock with mine. I can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t do
anything other than focus on the sensations consuming me. Still holding my
gaze, he bites the ample, fleshy underside of my breast, and I shudder, goose
bumps assaulting everywhere from my stomach to my ears. My nipples
tighten almost painfully, and he closes his mouth around one, biting it
through the fabric of my dress.
The ache in my core intensifies, and I’m so wet I can feel it between my
thighs. Slowly, he peels the dress over my tight pink nipples and sucks one
into his mouth while kneading the other. He alternates kissing and sucking
and biting, giving them equal attention.
Needing more, I rip my dress over my head, letting it fall somewhere
behind me, and pull him in for another soul-shattering kiss. When he pulls
away, we’re both breathing raggedly. Hooking his fingers into the sides of
my underwear, he tugs them down, leaving me in nothing but my black
combat boots.
Asher drops to his knees once more. He peels my panties down, letting
them drop to the floor, before spreading my legs with his shoulders. He
pushes on my lower stomach, forcing me to lean back on my elbows. His
tongue parts my lower lips, and I gasp at the contact. Lightly, he flicks his
tongue against my swollen clit, and I jerk off the counter in response.
“Stay still, baby. I want to taste you.”
Trying my best to obey, I lie flat against the countertop. Ash wraps his
hand around my right ankle and pulls my boot off. He kisses the arch of my
foot before placing it on the edge, doing the same to the other one. He presses
against my knees, opening me to him. I’m completely exposed, and he
stands, taking his sweet time to study my most vulnerable place.
He bites on that plump bottom lip and slides two fingers over my clit,
rubbing and swirling. He speeds up his movements, and soon, he’s rubbing
everywhere from my clit to my ass and everything in between as I
desperately rock into his touch.
“Please, Ash. I need you.”
“I want to take my time with you,” he says in a strained voice, and I
realize he’s scared, too. He’s afraid this will be our last time together.
“Baby,” I say, sitting up, my fingers going straight for the button of his
jeans. “We have all the time in the world.” I undo his pants and use my feet
to push them off his hips, not even bothering to take the time to rid him of his
shirt. I take his length in my hand, directing him to my entrance. Hot and
hard meets warm and wet as he thrusts inside me.
Asher holds my gaze as he slowly drives into me, and it’s the best kind of
torture. I drop my eyes to see his length disappearing inside of me, and I feel
myself clench around him at the sight. He groans and buries himself to the
hilt, controlling my movements with his hands on my hips.
“I love you,” I say again, and those words must unleash something inside
of him, because then he’s leaning me backward, covering my body with his
own, as he thrusts into me like a madman. He takes my nipple into his mouth
and sucks, while his hand snakes down my body to rub my clit.
“I’m going to come, Ash. Fuck me, please. I’m going to come.” My
words run together, almost unintelligible, but the meaning is clear.
“Say it again,” he says raggedly. His hair is damp with sweat, and his
eyes are glazed over with lust.
“I love you,” I cry out. “I love you so fucking much.”
Asher brings his big hands to grip my hips, his thumbs touching as he
drives into me punishingly. I throw my head back and my body locks up, my
mouth dropping open in a silent scream as he fucks me through my orgasm.
My legs shake uncontrollably, and I think I might lose consciousness. Ash
grabs me by the jaw, forcing my gaze back to him. He presses his thumb
against my bottom lip before I suck it into my mouth, swirling my tongue
around it.
“Fuck, baby.”
He tenses up, and his mouth parts in ecstasy. The veins on his neck and
arms are bulging as he spills inside of me. He collapses onto my chest, and I
love the feeling of his weight on top of me.
“Don’t ever take this away from me,” he says, his voice barely above a
whisper, as he circles his hips, giving soft, tiny thrusts. His head is nuzzled in
between my breasts, and his face sticks to my skin. I run my fingers through
his damp hair as I come back down to earth.
After our breathing has returned to normal, he pulls out, slowly, and both
of us groan at the loss. I feel our wetness pooling, and he pulls his black tee
over his head and brings it between my legs. With more tenderness than I
knew he was capable of, he cleans me up. When I bring my knees back
together, he stops me, pushing them back open to make sure he got every last
drop.
I sit up, and the first thing I notice is Asher’s freshly inked side.
“Asher,” I gasp, carefully tracing the design with my fingertips. It’s the
drawing from his drawer. The skull with the succulents and roses covering
one eye. And this time, I have no doubt in my mind that it’s for me.
“Dare did it,” he supplies.
“It’s beautiful.” And it is.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
“It’s us,” he says simply. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Ash scoops me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I tuck my head
into the space between his neck and his shoulder. Our sticky, love-drunk
bodies fusing as one as he carries me back toward the living room.
He lowers us onto the plush carpet in front of the fireplace, and we lie
there, tangled together, unspeaking for who knows how long, before he
finally succumbs to sleep. He looks so innocent like this. Thick, dark
eyelashes fanned against cheeks with the faintest of freckles scattered across
them. His lips are slightly parted, and the worry lines between his eyebrows
no longer exist.
Because he’s at peace. And so am I.
 EPILOGUE

BRIAR

QUE QUE QUE QUE QUE QUE QUE

ONE YEAR AND TWO MONTHS LATER.

“Y ou can come home any time now,” Nat says into my ear. I’m
on the phone with her, driving the tree-lined, windy roads in
River’s Edge. Two months after Asher vowed to never leave
me again, I turned eighteen and moved in with him. He stayed at his dad’s
AWWWWW
house while he was waiting for it to sell, and I stayed at my parents’ home. I
knew those remaining two months of still being seventeen weren’t going to
make any kind of difference, but I think it was my way of making sure it was
going to stick this time. But, I didn’t let Asher buy that house he showed me,
even after we christened every surface. One night when we were driving to
meet my brother for dinner, I told him that I fell in love with River’s Edge
and asked what he thought about starting our new beginning there. He
promptly showed me exactly how he felt by swinging his truck into a
crowded parking lot, pulling me onto his lap, and fucking me right there in
the open. It’s kind of our thing—sex in semi-public places.
Speaking of my brother, Dashiell and Asher somehow managed to
become even closer than they were before. I worried for a while, because it
was a rough adjustment period. Dash finally realized that it was really that
different at all. Dash, Asher, Adrian, and I… We’re all still best friends. The
dynamic hadn’t changed much in that sense. The only difference is that two
of us also liked to fuck each other. A lot. Every chance we got.
Dash completed his bachelor’s degree, and next year he’ll start law
school. In the meantime, he likes to drag Adrian up to River’s Edge every
chance he gets. They get to see us, and they get to prey on the pretty tourists.
Win-win.
Adrian likes to claim that he’s the reason we’re together in the first place
and has demanded that we name our firstborn after him to show our
everlasting gratitude.
Nat is balancing college and working at the boutique, so we don’t get to
see each other all that much, but we still talk daily.
As for Whitley and Jackson? I haven’t heard from either one of them. I’m
pretty sure Jackson went on living as nothing happened. The jury’s still out
on Whitley. I hope she got the help she so clearly needs.
My phone beeps, signaling my mom calling on the other line, and I make
a mental note to call her later. The biggest surprise of the last year was when
she announced she was divorcing my dad. Apparently, their issues ran deeper
than I ever knew. In a rare, candid moment, my mom informed me that my
father had been having affairs behind her back. Yes, plural. As in, multiple
affairs.
I was floored, but Dashiell didn’t seem too surprised. It made me wonder
if he knew more than he let on. She admitted that she didn’t leave him sooner
because she didn’t want to disrupt our lives. My mom made a lot of unseen
sacrifices over the years, and though I wish she had put herself first, it makes
me see her in a different light. It’s comforting to know that she cared all
along. She’s living back at home, trying to figure out who she is without my
dad. And of course, my dad stayed in California. We’ve talked a few times,
but except for the occasional birthday call or text asking me if I’d like to
come visit him, we don’t really speak. He did apologize for the effect his
decision had on Ash, but stands firm that he made the right choice as a father.
I understand it, but I don’t agree with it.
“Or, you could just come live here. You’d love it in the wintertime, Nat.
It’s like a magnet for hot guys. Foreign hot guys. With accents.”
Asher was right; this place really does look like a snow globe in the
winter. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not used to seeing snow, having lived
in Arizona my whole life, but everything just feels magical here. People come
to River’s Edge from all over the world. In the winter, we have snowboarding
and skiing. In the summer, everyone comes for the lake.
 “I’ll come visit soon. I promise.”
“Good. Hey, I have to go. I’m about to lose service,” I say as I approach
the narrow road that leads to our little cabin in paradise. When you live as
deep into the woods as we do, you can forget finding a signal.
“Okay. I love you, B. And I’m really happy for you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, laughing at her random display of emotion.
I pout when I pull into the driveway to see that Ash isn’t home from work
yet. With Dare focusing most of his attention on the new shop, Bad
Intentions, Ash has been working six, sometimes seven, days a week during
peak season. Between that and the fact that I have to make the forty-five-
minute journey to nursing school five times a week, we haven’t seen each
other as much as we’d like in the past month or so.
I grab my purse before I make my way to our modest, but beautiful little
cabin. The entire front is made up of tall windows, with a deck that wraps
around on one side. It’s beyond perfect.
I’m looking down at my phone as I twist the knob and walk inside. My
head snaps up, taking in the dozens of twinkling lights hanging from the
ceiling, and I see Asher, standing in front of me with a bouquet of flowers.
“What is all this?” I laugh. “Where’s your truck?”
“Happy birthday, baby girl,” he says, handing me the flowers. Only, they
aren’t just flowers. It’s a succulent bouquet, and it’s the prettiest thing I’ve
ever seen.
“Thank you,” I say, throwing one arm around his neck, the flowers
sandwiched between us.
His hands rub up and down my back before gripping my hips.
“They’re beautiful.” I press my mouth to his and suck on his bottom lip,
which earns me a groan.
“Are you happy?” Asher asks, and I realize for the first time since
walking in that he looks nervous or unsure.
“Are you kidding me? I have everything I’ve ever wanted. With you.”
“I sure as fuck am glad you feel that way,” he says, before dropping to
one knee.
Oh my God.
My purse and flowers fall to the floor, and I bring my hands to cover my
shocked expression.
“Briar,” he starts, looking up at me with a mix of love and hopefulness
and fear. “I don’t know how to do this shit,” he admits. “All I know is that
my best side is your worst creation. Everything good in me is because of you.
I’ll never deserve the kind of love and loyalty that you’ve given me since you
were just a kid, but I promise to spend every fucking day trying, if you’ll let
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
me. Will you marry me?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Tears are streaming downAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
my face, and swallowing past the lump in my
AAA
throat, I say, “I will marry the shit out of you.”
He laughs, flashing that perfect smile of his, before producing a ring from
his pocket and sliding it onto my finger. It’s a gorgeous, pear-shaped
diamond. It’s nothing too ostentatious. It’s perfect. I’m about to tell him how
much I love it, when cheers and screams and applause coming from my right
have me spinning around, my hand flying to my heart. My mouth drops open
in shock to find my brother, Nat, Adrian, my mom, and Dare. They’re all
here, in my living room. I look back at Ash, and he simply shrugs in
response.
“I told you I’d visit soon!” Nat shouts, tears shimmering in her big brown
eyes.
“How did everyone get here?” I ask, swiping away the tears from my
cheeks. There weren’t any cars in the driveway.
“Dare’s friends brought us. Left our vehicles at his house, so you’d be
surprised.”
“Well, mission accomplished.” I laugh.
We spend the next hour or so hugging, gushing, crying, and catching up,
before Ash kicks everyone out and leads me to our bed.
“Are you ready to be Mrs. Kelley?” Ash asks, kissing up my thighs. I
squirm under his touch, biting my lip and nodding my head. My heart feels so
full in this moment. He continues peppering kisses up my stomach, chest,
neck, and lips, before placing the last one on the scar on my temple. The one
that serves as a constant reminder of what we almost lost.
“I love you, Bry,” he says, settling in between my thighs. I feel him hard
at my entrance, and I shift my hips, trying to take him into my body.
“I love you, too.”
“Now shut up, so I can fuck my fiancée.”
I laugh out loud, but it morphs into a moan as he pushes inside me,
proving that sometimes, bad habits lead to good endings.
And beginnings.

The End
 Stalk me! I like it.

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 CONFESSION/STORY TIME

T his is probably going to end up being a pretty lengthy

confession/love letter/explanation. I literally feel like I’m going to
vomit at the thought of sending all of this information out into the
world, but, it’s time.
Let’s start with the history of Charleigh Rose. Back in the beginning of
2016, one of my close author friends asked me if I wanted to write short,
steamy stories under a pen name. Those novellas were completely different
from her brand, and I wasn’t necessarily wanting to put my real name on
anything, either (more on that, later).
I had already been writing a story for a couple of years, by that point
(Dare’s story, actually), but had never published anything. I thought it would
be a fun way to sort of get my feet wet, so to speak. So, then came the
Savages. I loved writing those books, and learning the ropes of self-
publishing and all that jazz, but ultimately, I knew it wasn’t the direction I
wanted to go in.
Enter Misbehaved, a full-length, New Adult novel. My first taste of being
a “real” author. That’s not a dig at erotica authors, by the way. That was just
my own self-deprecating thinking. I love me some erotica. Anyway, after
Misbehaved, I knew I couldn’t go back to that novella life. I had the idea for
Bad Habit, and asked Charleigh when she wanted to start. Her career sort of
blew up after we published our first novella, and she wasn’t able to start on it
for a while, so I asked her what she thought of me taking this one on by
myself. She was all about it, and CR became mine.
If you’re wanting a juicy story, you won’t find it here. Seriously, she
encouraged me, every step of the way. She was so supportive, and super
involved. Because that’s what real friends do. A lot of times, when friends
work together, it ruins the friendship, or at the very least, taints it. That’s not
the case, here, and I could not be more grateful. It was just the natural
progression of things. Plain and simple, without C, this would have never
happened. And I don’t just mean Bad Habit, I mean, I never would’ve
published at all.
While we’re on the topic of C, please, please don’t try to uncover her
identity, or make guesses in public forums. If you want to do it privately,
cool. I know people will be curious, so that’s all gravy, but she doesn’t ever
plan to fess up, so we have to respect that. Cool? Cool.
Back to me, and why I decided to come out. I was hesitant for a few
reasons. I didn’t want to reveal myself until a few months after Bad Habit
came out, because there is a stigma attached to
readers/bloggers/promoters/whatever who decide to take a stab at writing.
And though I would NEVER tell anyone not to try something (seriously, I’m
not that much of an asshole. Follow your dreams, peeps!), I have been guilty
of the same thing. Like, here we go again. Everyone thinks they’re an author.
I wanted to avoid that drama. I wanted people to give it a chance without
having any preconceived notions. I wanted to start fresh as an author. Which
brings me to my next reason for staying anonymous. Throughout the years,
I’ve made a lot of connections in the book world. Author friends, blogger
friends, reader friends. I’m so in love and enmeshed in this community, and I
didn’t want anyone to think I was trying to use them to get ahead. So, if
you’re my friend, and I didn’t tell you, please know it’s not because I didn’t
trust you. I just never wanted to come off as taking advantage of my
friendships.
But, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a hot ass mess. I’ve slipped up more
times than I can count, by posting or commenting from the wrong Facebook
or Instagram page, or sharing a screenshot with my real name on it. After C
stepped back from Charleigh Rose, I got sloppy. In a way, a weight was
lifted, because I didn’t feel so much stress to keep it on the downlow. I didn’t
care about myself as much as I cared about keeping her secret. I wasn’t the
one with anything to lose.
I started letting people figure it out slowly. Stopped denying it when
confronted. It’s what I like to call The Trickle Effect. It’s my lame attempt to
lessen any potential drama for this moment. I’m hoping everyone is like,
“Yeah, we all knew, already. But OMG, have you read American King, yet?”
(Spoiler alert: the answer is no, I have not, but it’s the first fucking thing I’m
doing when I publish this book.) But really, I don’t think it’s much of a secret
anymore, so I might as well come out on my own terms, before my cover is
blown. And if I’m going to suck it up and do it, I might as well take
advantage of the opportunity to generate some buzz for this release. So, here
goes nothing.
My name is Sunny. Some of you may know me as BossyBookPusher on
Instagram, or that annoying chick who never shuts up, and some of you may
be scratching your heads wondering who the fuck I am. In that case, this was
super anticlimactic, and I’m sorry about the five minutes you lost reading
this. That’s five minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.
If you’re still with me, thank you. Thank you for reading. Thank you for
supporting me. Thank you to the ones who couldn’t care less about the name
behind the books. Thank you to the ones who’ve kept my secret, whether you
knew from the beginning, or whether you found out by noticing a freckle on
my neck (I’m looking at you, Kennedy Fox). Thank you for taking a chance.
Bad Habit is the very first thing I’ve ever accomplished on my own. I
suck at commitment, and I never follow through with anything. But I did it,
man. I fucking did it. And for that reason alone, I have no regrets.
Oh, and one more thing. If we’re friends on my personal page, please
don’t mention Charleigh Rose, because my dad is on a mission to find my
pen name and read everything I’ve written. In which case, I’ll never be able
to look him in the eye again. Don’t break up my family. You don’t want that
kind of karma in your life.
Love you all,
Xoxo, Charleigh Rose/Sunny
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’ll make this snappy since I just wrote my life story up there. First, I have to
thank my husband who fed kids, cleaned house, went grocery shopping, and
cooked meals, all while essentially being ignored for, like, an entire month. I
love you more than you’ll ever know.
A huge thank you to Paige, my editor, who is always ridiculously
accommodating. I don’t know what I would do without you. No, seriously.
Don’t leave me. I’d find you.
Thank you to Leigh for being there every step of the way. You’re the
Serena to my Blair. The Jared to my Tate. I love you even when you’re crazy,
which is a solid 90% of the time.
Thank you to Ella, for always keeping it real, and for pushing me when I
needed it. I’m so thankful for your friendship. “Put a flower on it!”
Mary, you’re my favorite. Thank you for being alive. I love you.
Serena, thank you for all your help. Your excitement and enthusiasm for
books is something that cannot be faked or replicated.
Melissa, thank you for your special brand of encouragement, usually
consisting of, “Stop being a pussy and write the book!” Also, you don’t have
bad eyebrows, so shut up, Donald.
Clarissa and Julie, thank you for being the kind of women I want my
daughter to grow up to be. You’re my people.
Shout out to Bex. You’re always willing to drop everything to help me,
and having your feedback is vital. Thank you!
Sash! Thank you for being an amazing admin and an even better friend.
Thank you to my group, Charleigh’s Angels. You guys are my happy
place. Straight up. I love you all.
 Thank you to all my author friends who helped me in more ways than I
can count. I’m truly lucky to have so many amazing women in my corner.
Lastly, to my readers and bloggers, thank you. Thank you, thank you,
thank you. I appreciate all your messages, teasers, reviews, shares, posts, and
the countless ways you show your support. You’re invaluable.
 MISBEHAVED BY CHARLEIGH ROSE

CHECK OUT THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MISBEHAVED, MY

STUDENT/TEACHER ROMANCE!

CHAPTER ONE
REMI

Let me start off by saying I don’t hate my life. To someone from the outside,
it might look like a bad life, but I don’t care. I know the truth. I have a roof
over my head. I’m frying juicy steaks in the kitchen. My dad, Dan, isn’t
abusive or in prison, which basically puts me at a huge advantage in
comparison to the rest of the kids in my neighborhood. I have Ryan, who
looks out for me, and, for the most part—albeit in an unconventional, fucked-
up way—I feel loved.
Mostly.
But feeling loved doesn’t mean that I’m happy with my circumstances. It
doesn’t mean I’m content with the street I live on that manages to taint every
man, woman, and child that is unlucky enough to land here. It doesn’t mean
that I won’t try to run away.
I live in Las Vegas, the city that sucks out your soul and spits out
whatever’s left of you. Your job is to pick up the pieces and find out who you
are.
I’m about to. Planning to. Soon.
I flip the steak, and the searing pan hisses in delight. Take two steps to
my right. Stir the boiling pasta. Al dente, just like Ryan likes it. Walk over to
the sink. Wash my hands. Look out the window, the screen is hole-ridden and
the frame rusty and eaten by the scorching heat and age. Then I smile. I see
Ryan kneeling on our yellow overgrown grass, in front of the cracked,
bruised asphalt of the road, working on his Harley. As if he senses me, he
lifts his gaze to mine.
Stern. Severe. A little on the psycho side. But, he’s my family
nonetheless.
Ryan is not my biological brother. My mom, Mary, died in a car accident
when I was two. I don’t remember her, and although I’m sad that I never got
to know her, it’s my dad I truly hurt for. All I have left of Mary Julia Stringer
is an old, beat-up camera from the nineties, and I hold on to it like it’s my
lifeline.
I used to use my high school’s dark room to develop the film myself, but
now, I’ll have to figure something else out. I’m autodidactic. Self-taught, if
you will. That doesn’t come without a price, because I’m probably no good,
but taking photos is what I love. Dad says Mom always had a camera in her
hand. Funny how those things can be passed down without even knowing her
or having her influence. It makes me feel connected to her.
A few years after she passed, my dad took another stab at dating. Enter
Darla and ten-year-old Ryan. I knew Darla was bad for Pops, even at the
tender age of five. She smelled like smoke and cheap perfume and always
went out of her way to make me feel like a burden. But Pops seemed happy
—at first, anyway—and I got Ryan. So, it wasn’t all bad. Over the next five
years, however, things deteriorated, along with their relationship. Darla
started skipping out on us for days at a time, and even flaunted other men in
front of my dad. After more than a few knock-down, drag-out fights, Darla
had finally bailed for good. When my dad found Ryan, who was only fifteen,
packing his things up, he told him to unpack his shit and go set the table for
dinner, and that was that. Darla was out, and Ryan was staying. When I asked
my dad why she left, his response was something along the lines of, “Darla’s
a whore. Don’t be like Darla.”
Duly noted, Dad.
 The night Darla left was the first night I snuck into Ryan’s room. It was
innocent, of course. I wanted to comfort him, even though he showed no
signs of being particularly saddened by his mom’s absence. At first, he
stiffened when he felt the bed dip under my weight. But my intuition had
been right, because that night, Ryan held me and cried himself to sleep while
I rubbed his arm and sniffled quietly. He never cried again, and we never
spoke about it, but he still sleeps with me on occasion. Except now, it’s Ryan
who sneaks into my room.
And it’s not innocent. Not anymore.
The years passed, as they always do, while Ryan still lives at home,
neither my dad nor I want to see him leave. Maybe it’s because Dad is rarely
at home. He makes the Las Vegas-Los Angeles route twice a week, and
occasionally takes longer trips that have him on the road for weeks at a time,
which leaves him very little time for actual parenting. Since sleeping by
myself in this rundown house, in this horrific neighborhood is pretty much a
death wish, I’m happy to have Ryan by my side. With his tall frame, bulging
tattooed muscles, uniform of wifebeater and don’t-fuck-with-me expression
plastered to his face, you’d have to be stupid to break into our house.
And it’s not the only reason I am happy to have him around. We need
each other. It’s always been us against the world. Not that the world was
particularly against us. It just didn’t care.
I start making the sauce for the pasta. Tomato. Basil. Olive oil. A shit-ton
of garlic. I read the recipe somewhere on the internet after Ryan and I saw it
on some cooking show that aired on one of the few channels we have.
Maybe it will make him crack a goddamn smile for once. He’s always
been a bit of a ticking time bomb. The homemade, highly unpredictable type.
But lately, I feel like he’s seconds away from exploding.
Tick, tick, tick.
For the rest of the meal prep, I’m on autopilot. I chop, stir, drain, flip,
arrange everything on the plates, take out two bottles of Bud Light from the
fridge, and set the table. Then I proceed to kick the whiny door and bang my
fist against the screen a few times to draw his attention.
“Dinner’s ready,” I yell.
“Two secs.” I hear the clink of heavy tools dropping onto the concrete
near the yellow grass he is kneeling on. His bike’s been fucked for two weeks
now, and he can’t take it to the shop because he spent his last few bucks on
bailing out his best friend, Reed. Not that having a broken-down bike has
slowed him down any. The guy is never home anymore.
“Steak’s getting cold. Get your ass inside or I’m eating without you,” I
mutter and slam the screen door with a bang.
I wait for him, slouched on my chair in front of our plates, scrolling my
thumb along the touch-screen of my phone—one of the three things that my
dad makes sure we always budget for: the rent, the food, and my phone. Most
kids would be pissed to have an older model, but I’m just happy this thing
has internet capabilities. Ryan saunters in and collapses on the chair opposite
me, not bothering to wash his dirtied, greasy hands.
I chance a glance at him. Ryan looks like a man. He’s looked that way for
a long time now. His arms are ripped—not in the gym rat way, just in the
way of a guy who does manual labor—and his body is big, wide, and
commanding. Long, dirty blond hair that almost touches his shoulders, brown
eyes, cut bone structure—the only good thing he inherited from his deadbeat
real dad. Every time we hang outside the house together—which, admittedly,
is not often these days—girls I went to school with throw themselves at him.
He’s screwed half of them, I know, even though they’re underage. If I’m
being honest, it seems to be half the charm about this guy. Other than the fact
that he is inked from head-to-toe. It’s that slightly unstable, dangerous vibe
he gives off. Every girl wants to be good until a bad boy whisks her off her
feet and corrupts her.
And every girl hated the one who stood in their way. That’d be me. At
least in their mind. Sure, Ryan would fuck them, but that’s all they ever got.
He always stood a little too close to me, stared a little too long. They noticed.
And they were ruthless. So, I was deemed the brother fucker. I didn’t really
care. Ryan didn’t help matters by forbidding the entire male population of
Riverdale to stay far away from me. He was out of high school before I even
began, but he’s somewhat of a legend around here. No one in their right mind
would willingly cross him.
“How’s the steak?” I ask, keeping my eyes on my own piece of meat as I
slice it carefully.
“Juicy.” He laughs, his mouth full. From my peripheral, I see a trail of
bloody liquid traveling from the corner of his lip to his chin, but he doesn’t
make any move to wipe it. He takes another bite, his eyes honing in on me.
“So, when are you going to turn eighteen?”
“You’re my brother,” I grind out. “Shouldn’t you at least pretend to know
this kind of crap?”
 “I’m a shit brother,” he retorts, his voice as dry as his steak is juicy. “And
when asked a question, you fucking answer. It’s really that simple, Rem.”
That’s the part where I should probably mention—he calls me Rem. My
name is Remington, and my friends call me Remi, but Ryan, much to my
dismay, has been calling me Rem since day one.
“August sixteenth,” I groan. Ryan moves his eyes up and down my body
as much as he can with the barrier that’s the table between us.
“What’s two more weeks?” he mumbles as he rubs his lower lip with his
thumb, and it’s glistening with the olive oil from the pasta and the juice of the
steak.
“Until what?” I ask, playing dumb. He knows I’m not dumb. In fact, he
resents the fact that I want more out of life than my high school diploma. But
his comments have become increasingly inappropriate over the past few
months, and even though it’s flattering, sometimes alarm bells go off in my
head.
“Until your big brother can show you just how much he loves you.” Ryan
chuckles sinisterly. I let loose a nervous smile. I know Ryan wants to get me
into bed, but more than that, he wants to own me. Own my thoughts, my
actions, my body. He thinks he already does. In his twisted mind, he calls it
love. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like Ryan has ever seen a good example of it.
Hell, neither have I. In his mind, he protects me, takes care of me, and he
needs me. In a way, I need him, too. But, I just can’t ever see us happening.
This—what we’re doing right this moment—is what the rest of my life would
look like. Me cooking dinner, wishing I were anywhere else, and Ryan being
perfectly content to work on his bike and get tanked with his shitty friends
every night. No, thank you.
It’s not like the attraction is not there. I had a major crush on him when I
was younger. I thought he hung the moon and the stars, making everything
brighter in my dull universe, and I think I did the same for him. But if he
were the one, it wouldn’t feel so freaking wrong every time his throbbing
dick “accidentally” presses against my ass at night.
Getting up from my seat, I take our plates to the sink and saunter back
with a new beer, cracking it open in front of him. When I do, he snakes one
arm around my waist and grabs me in one swift movement so that I’m
straddling him on his lap. I can feel the seam of his zipper grinding into my
crotch. Not gonna lie—it feels nice.
“Hey,” he breathes into my mouth, always a whisper from a kiss, but
never there. Where he wants to be.
“Hi.” I swallow visibly.
“So.” His hand travels into my inner thigh, and I feel something stiffen
underneath me. I take a deep breath. The room is dark and dingy and small,
cluttered with our old furniture, with our pasts. It’s not exactly romantic, but
I can’t deny the heady feeling coursing through me.
“You a virgin, Rem?” he whispers into my lips again, and this time it
could qualify as a kiss. A part of me wants it to. The other part begs me not to
go over that invisible, fragile line that I’m straddling just now. “You saved
yourself for me? Kept this untouched?” His fingers hover over my groin,
barely touching.
“No.” The word comes out more like a groan. Never mind the fact that
I’ve only done it twice. I don’t need to tell him who it was. He knows. Zach
Williamson. Eleventh grade. The only guy I dated for more than two months
before I got bored. We actually made it through a whole semester before I
dumped his ass. I didn’t care that I’d given him my virginity. I wasn’t waiting
for “the one”. To be honest, I’ve never really thought that one person putting
their body part into another person was that big of a deal. It’s probably a
good thing I didn’t have high hopes, because both times were pretty
anticlimactic.
There’s something in Ryan’s already-hooded expression that becomes
even darker and more severe, and for a minute, my heart beats faster for the
wrong reason. Not because I’m excited, but because I’m unnerved. I wait,
studying his expression carefully, before his hard stare turns into a half-assed,
placid smile.
“Good,” he says and squeezes my butt a little too hard, indicating that he
doesn’t think it’s good at all. “I don’t think you could handle me without a
little practice, anyway.”
Then his lips are not hovering anymore—they’re kissing—not slowly
either. He doesn’t ask for permission. He is not tentative or unsure. His
tongue invades my mouth in an instant, and it catches me off-guard. As I
suck in some air, he takes the opportunity to deepen our kiss. I place both
hands on his cheeks to ease him away, and he throws my hands off.
Possessive. Hungry. Angry.
“You taste like heaven, little sister,” he hisses into my mouth. Nothing
about this feels right. People know us as brother and sister. The fact that
we’re not blood-related is only somewhat consoling. Hell, even the kiss
doesn’t feel right. Like we’re doing it all wrong. I feel him squeezing my ass
harder, digging his dirty fingernails into my flesh, and wince.
“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” His words not only pierce—they
penetrate me—along with his fingers that are now dragging themselves
slowly, roughly toward my sex. I breathe out harshly.
“Ryan,” I drop my forehead to his, “you’re hurting me.”
“I know.” His tongue continues attacking my mouth, his hands even more
aggressive on me than before.
Panic. It trickles into me slowly. I know Ryan. Know him well. He is not
a bad guy—definitely not a good guy, but not a rapist either—and he knows
damn well my dad would kill him if he ever seriously wronged me.
“You’re starting school tomorrow,” he says, licking his way down to my
chin and neck. I let him, and even though I don’t want this, I can’t help my
body’s reaction to his touch. It’s humming, singing, asking for more. And
why not give in to feeling good with someone I know and trust with my life?
Still, something holds me back.
“How you gonna get all the way to Henderson every day?”
“Take the bus,” I answer flatly. I’m not giving up on this opportunity. My
dad somehow came up with my tuition to one of the best high schools in
Nevada. Private. Top-notch. Said he’s been saving for years, and only just
now—my senior year—saved enough to send me. Not that I’m complaining.
I think Dad secretly feels guilty about being gone so often. That, and he’s
heard what the kids at school say about me. That I’m a whore. A brother
fucker.
After my best friend, Ella, moved away, they got worse. I was a lone
ranger. An easy target. The boys were all afraid to interact with me—pussies
—but the girls? Girls are vicious and sneaky. Like the boys, they’re also
afraid of Ryan, but they did shit on the down low. Stashing shit—literal shit
—in my locker. Stealing my clothes when I was in the shower after P.E. Stuff
that couldn’t be directly traced back to them, even though we all knew who
did it. And while I honestly never really cared what other people thought of
me, I was being offered a golden ticket out of this shithole town, and I’m not
giving it up. Especially not for something as miniscule as transportation.
“The buses don’t run that early, baby girl.” Ryan laughs, and why did I
think he was that attractive in the first place? His smile is too big, his teeth
too pointy, like a wolf’s, and the scent of his sweat is too sour.
“Nice try. I checked, Ryan. They’re twenty-four hours.”
 “You can walk, my ass.” He pulls his head back, laughing. “You’re not
taking the bus alone. I’m giving you a ride back and forth, got it?”
I hate depending on anyone for anything. I may not have a car, but I’ve
worked since the day I turned fourteen. My dad signed a waiver, much to
Ryan’s dismay, and I got a job at the Dairy Queen around the corner—where
I reluctantly quit once I found out I wouldn’t have time to work when school
started. When I need to be somewhere, I walk or ride my bike. Like I said, I
despise being dependent on anyone, but if there’s one thing I hate more, it’s
mornings. Specifically, early mornings. And to get to school on time, I’d
have to wake up at an ungodly hour.
I want to say no.
I should say no.
But as his rock-hard erection grinds into me violently, I say something
else entirely.
“Fine.”
Read Misbehaved today for FREE on Kindle Unlimited!
 SCANDALOUS BY L.J. SHEN

CHECK OUT CHAPTER ONE OF L.J. SHEN’S SCANDALOUS!

Chapter One

Trent

She’s a maze with no escape.

An ethereal, steady pulse. She’s there, but just barely.
I love her so much I sometimes hate her.
And it terrifies me, because deep down, I know what she is.
An unsolvable puzzle.
And I know who I am.
The idiot who would try to fix her.
At any cost.

“How did you feel when you wrote it?” Sonya held the whiskey-ringed paper
like it was her fucking newborn, a curtain of tears glittering in her eyes. The
drama levels were high this session. Her voice was gauzy and I knew what
she was after. A breakthrough. A moment. That pivotal scene in a Hollywood
flick, after which everything changed. The strange girl shakes off her
inhibitions, the dad realizes he is being a cold-ass prick, and they work
through their emotions, blah blah pass the Kleenex blah.
I scrubbed my face, glancing at my Rolex. “I was drunk off of my ass
when I wrote it, so I probably felt like a burger to dilute the alcohol,” I
deadpanned. I didn’t talk much—big fucking surprise—that’s why they
called me The Mute. When I did, it was with Sonya, who knew my
boundaries, or Luna, who ignored them, and me.
“Do you get drunk often?”
Chagrined. That was Sonya’s expression. She mostly kept it schooled, but
I saw through the thick layers of makeup and professionalism.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
Loud silence lingered in the room. I strummed my fingers against my cell
phone screen, trying to remember whether I’d sent out that contract to the
Koreans or not. I should have been nicer, seeing as my four-year-old
daughter was sitting right beside me, witnessing this exchange. I should have
been a lot of things, but the only thing I was, the only thing I could be outside
of work, was angry, and furious, and—why, Luna? What the fuck have I done
to you?—confused. How I’d become a thirty-three-year-old single dad who
didn’t have time, nor the patience, for any female other than his kid.
“Seahorses. Let’s talk about them.” Sonya laced her fingers together,
changing the topic. She did that whenever my patience was strung out and
about to snap. Her smile was warm but neutral, just like her office. My eyes
skimmed the pictures hung behind her, of young, laughing children—the kind
of bullshit you buy at IKEA—and the soft yellow wallpaper, the flowery,
polite armchairs. Was she trying too hard, or was I not trying hard enough? It
was difficult to tell at this point. I shifted my gaze to my daughter and offered
her a smirk. She didn’t return it. Couldn’t blame her.
“Luna, do you want to tell Daddy why seahorses are your favorite?”
Sonya chirped.
Luna grinned at her therapist conspiratorially. At four, she didn’t talk. At
all. Not a single word or a lonely syllable. There was no problem with her
vocal chords. In fact, she screamed when she was hurting and coughed when
she was congested and hummed absentmindedly when a Justin Bieber played
on the radio (which, some would say, was tragic in itself.)
 Luna didn’t talk because she didn’t want to talk. It was a psychological
issue, not physical, stemming from hell-knows-what. What I did know was
that my daughter was different, indifferent, and unusual. People said she was
“special”, as an excuse to treat her like a freak. I was no longer able to shield
her from the peculiar looks and questioning arched eyebrows. In fact, it was
becoming increasingly difficult to brush off her silence as introversion, and I
was beginning to grow tired of hiding it, anyway.
Luna was, is, always will be outrageously smart. She scored higher than
average on all the tests she’d been put through over the years, and there had
been too many to count. She understood every single word spoken to her. She
was mute by choice, but she was too young to make that choice. Trying to
talk her out of it was both impossible and ironic. Which was why I dragged
my ass to Sonya’s office twice a week in the middle of a workday,
desperately trying to coax my daughter to stop boycotting the world.
“Actually, I can tell you exactly why Luna loves seahorses.” Sonya
pursed her lips, plastering my drunken note to her desk. Luna would
sometimes speak a word or two when she and her therapist were all alone, but
never when I was in the room. Sonya told me Luna had a languid voice, like
her eyes, and that it was soft and delicate and perfect. She had no impediment
at all. “She just sounds like a kid, Trent. One day, you’ll hear it, too.”
I cocked a tired eyebrow, propping my head on my hand as I stared at the
busty redhead. I had three deals I needed to attend to back at work—four if
I’d forgotten to send the contract to the Koreans—and my time was too
fucking precious for seahorse talk.
“Yeah?”
Sonya reached across her desk, cupping my big bronzed hand in her small
white one. “Seahorses are Luna’s favorite animal because the male seahorse
is the only animal in nature to carry the baby and not the mother. The male
seahorse is the one to incubate the offspring. To fall pregnant. To nest. Isn’t
that beautiful?”
I blinked a couple of times, slicing my gaze to my daughter. I was grossly
unequipped to deal with women my own age, so taking care of Luna always
felt like shooting a goddamn arsenal of bullets in the dark, hoping something
would find the target. I frowned, searching my brain for something—
anything, any-fucking-thing—that would put a smile on my daughter’s face.
It occurred to me that social services would scoop her ass up and take her
away from me had they known what an emotionally stunted dumbass I was.
 “I…” I began to say. Sonya cleared her throat, jumping to my rescue.
“Hey, Luna? Why don’t you help Sydney hang up some of the summer
camp decorations outside? You have a great touch with design.”
Sydney was the secretary at Sonya’s practice. My daughter had warmed
up to her, seeing as we spent a lot of time sitting in the reception area,
waiting for our appointments. Luna nodded and hopped down from her seat.
My daughter was beautiful. Her caramel skin and light brown curls made
her deep blue eyes shine like a lighthouse. My daughter was beautiful and the
world was ugly and I didn’t know how to help her.
And it killed me like cancer. Slowly. Surely. Savagely.
The door closed with a soft thud before Sonya trained her eyes on me, her
smile fading.
I glanced at my watch again. “Are you coming over to fuck tonight, or
what?”
“Jesus, Trent.” She shook her head, clasping the back of her neck with
her laced fingers. I let her have her meltdown. This was a reoccurring issue
with Sonya. For a reason beyond my grasp, she thought she could tell me off
because she sometimes had my dick in her mouth. The truth was, every ounce
of power she had over me was because of Luna. My daughter worshipped the
ground Sonya walked upon and allowed herself to smile more in her
therapist’s presence.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Why don’t you take it as a wake-up call? Luna’s love for seahorses is a
way to say—‘Daddy, I appreciate you for taking care of me’. Your daughter
needs you.”
“My daughter has me,” I gritted through clenched teeth. It was the truth.
What more could I have given Luna that I hadn’t already? I was her dad
when she needed someone to open the pickle jar and her mom when she
needed someone to tuck her undershirt into her black ballet tights.
Three years ago Luna’s mother, Val, had put Luna in her crib, grabbed
her keys and two large suitcases, and disappeared from our lives. We hadn’t
been together, Val and I. Luna was the product of a coked-up bachelor party
in Chicago that had spun out of control. She was made in the back room of a
strip club with Val straddling me while another stripper climbed on top of my
face. Looking back, screwing a stripper bareback ought to have awarded me
with some kind of a Guinness record for stupidity. I was twenty-eight—not a
kid by any stretch of the imagination—and smart enough to know what I was
doing was wrong.
But at twenty-eight, I was still thinking with my dick and my wallet.
At thirty-three, I was thinking with my brain and my daughter’s
happiness in mind.
“When is this charade going to end?” I cut Sonya off, getting tired of
running in circles around the real topic at hand. “Name your price and I’ll pay
it. What would it take for you to go private with us?”
Sonya had been working for a private institution partially funded by the
state and partially funded by the likes of yours truly. She couldn’t have made
more than 80k a year, and I was being extremely fucking optimistic. I’d
offered her 150k, the best health insurance on the market for her and her son,
and the same amount of hours if she’d agree to come work with Luna
exclusively. Sonya let out a long-suffering sigh, her azure eyes crinkling.
“Don’t you get it, Trent? You should be focusing on getting Luna to open up
to more people, not allowing her to depend on me for communication.
Besides, Luna is not the only child who needs me. I enjoy working with a
wide range of clients.”
“She loves you,” I countered, plucking dark lint from my impeccable
Gucci suit. Did she think I didn’t want my daughter to speak to me? To my
parents? To my friends? I’d tried everything. Luna wouldn’t budge. The least
I could do was make sure she wasn’t terribly lonely in that head of hers.
“She loves you, too. It will just take more time for her to come out of her
shell.”

“Let’s hope it happens before I find a way to break it.” I rose to my feet, only
half-joking. My daughter made me feel more helpless than any grown-ass
person I’d ever dealt with.
“Trent.” Sonya’s voice pleaded when I was at the door. I stopped, but
didn’t turn around. No. Fuck it. She didn’t talk about her family much when
she came over for a quick fuck after Luna and the nanny were already asleep,
but I knew she was divorced with one kid. Fuck normal Sonya and fuck her
normal son. They didn’t understand Luna and me. On paper, maybe. But the
real us? The broken, the tortured, the curiosities? Not a chance. Sonya was a
good therapist. Unethical? Maybe, but even that was debatable. We had sex
knowing there was nothing more to it. No emotions, no complications, no
expectations. She was a good therapist, but, like the rest of the world, she was
pretty bad at understanding what I was going through. What we were going
through.
“Summer break has just started. Please, I urge you to make room for
Luna. You work such long hours. She’d really benefit from being around you
more.”
I twisted in place, studying her face.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Maybe take a day off every week to spend time with her?”
A few slow blinks from my end were enough to tell her she was grossly
overstepping. She backpedaled, but not without a fight. Her lips thinned,
telling me she was growing tired of me, too.
“I get it. You’re a big hotshot and can’t afford the time off. Promise me
you’ll take her to work with you once a week? Camila can watch over her. I
know your office building offers a play room and other amenities suitable for
children.” Camila was Luna’s nanny. At sixty-two, with one grandchild and
another on the way, her employment with us was on borrowed time. So
whenever I heard her name, something inside me stirred uncomfortably.
I nodded. Sonya closed her eyes, letting out a breath. “Thank you.”
In the lobby, I collected Luna’s Dora the Explorer backpack and stuffed
her toy seahorse into it. I offered her my hand and she took it. We made the
silent journey to the elevator.
“Spaghetti?” I asked, glutton for disappointment. I’d never get a response.
Nothing.
“How about FroYo?”
Nada.
The elevator pinged. We strode inside. Luna was wearing her black
Chucks, a simple pair of jeans, and a white tee. The kind of stuff I could
imagine the Van Der Zee girl wearing, when she wasn’t busy mugging
innocent people. Luna looked nothing like Jaime’s daughter, Daria, or the
other girls in her class who preferred frills and dresses. Just as well, as she
found zero interest in them, either.
“How about spaghetti and a FroYo?” I bargained. And I never bargained.
Ever.
Her lax hold of my hand tightened a little. Getting warmer.
“We’ll pour the FroYo on top of the spaghetti and eat it in front of
Stranger Things. Two episodes. Break bedtime routine. You can go to bed at
nine instead of eight.” Fuck it. It was the weekend and my usual willing
bodies could wait. Tonight, I was going to watch Netflix with my kid. Be a
seahorse.
Luna squeezed my hand once in a silent agreement.
“No chocolate or cookies after dinner, though,” I warned. I ran a tight
ship when it came to food and routines in the house. Luna squeezed my hand
again.
“Tell it to someone who cares, missy. I’m your dad and I make the rules.
No chocolate. Or boys—after dinner or otherwise.”
A ghost of a smile passed on her face before she frowned again, clutching
her bag with the stuffed seahorse to her chest. My own daughter had never
smiled at me, not even once, not even by accident, not even at all.
Sonya was wrong. I wasn’t a seahorse.
I was the ocean.
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