Her voice cracks and she hangs onto me so tightly that I know today is a bad day, a really bad day. Most days, she manages with the help of a hired nurse, but some days, like today, nobody can help her but me. I exhale and take her hands from my face, saying in a low voice, “Okay, Mom. I won’t leave. I won’t go. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Good boy, my good boy.”
I hang onto the exhale and help her up the stairs.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to do this.
How much longer can I throw everything in my life away?
I look at the fragile woman in my arms and I know, I just know ...
I’ll do it forever, if I have to.
I grip the sheets in my hands and glare at the wall in front of me, holding a massive television that almost glistens in the dark room. Another fucking dream, only they’re more memories than fantasies that are created when you sleep. My dreams are always real, which makes them that much more painful. Every time I see my mother in them, I wake up with the same empty ache in my chest.
The one that reminds me I failed her.
I promised her I wouldn’t, but I did.
And now she’s gone, and I’m here alone in this big, fucking empty house.
A house that brings me nothing but fucking misery. I hate being here. Yet, I can’t bring myself to sell it. It’s the only thing I have left of my parents, and damned if I’ll sell it and let my greedy sister anywhere fucking near what’s left.
I shove out of bed and stand, walking out of the room and down the stairs into the kitchen. I stop when I see Saskia sitting in there, staring at her phone. She’s looking at pictures, from what I can tell, her eyes scanning over the screen. Looks like pictures of her and a man. If she’s got a man, where the fuck is he? Because I sure haven’t seen him here. I clear my throat and she turns, eyes wide, startled.
“Jesus, dude, you could have warned me you were creeping around the house at night like a weirdo.”
I grunt. Always got something smart to say, this girl.
“My house, didn’t know I needed to announce myself everywhere I went.”
“A pre-warning would have been nice. Maybe a cough, or a fart, or something before you entered.”
I scrunch up my lip. “Don’t fuckin’ fart.”
She giggles, and it sounds fucking cute. “All men fart.”
“Not in the presence of ladies, they don’t.”
She blinks, and for the first time, I’ve startled her. She has nothing to say. I’ll be damned. I’ve shut her up.
“So, it is possible to shut that mouth,” I murmur, walking over to the fridge and opening it.
“I guess so. I didn’t expect something like that to come out of your mouth.”
I grab a pitcher of milk and put it on the counter, then go in search of a glass. “Don’t know what kind of gutter trash you’ve dated, but not all men are pigs.”
She huffs. “I don’t know, you might not fart but your attitude sure stinks.”
She laughs softly at her own little joke, and I turn around, glaring at her. “Fuckin’ really?”
She grins. “Well, it was funny in my head. Why are you so grumpy all the time, anyway? Is that just your personality or are you some dark, twisted, broken person?”
I pour the milk, ignoring her question.
Doesn’t stop her.
“I’m going to go with dark, twisted, and broken. Which makes me wonder why? And considering you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to have to make a guess. And let me tell you, I have a very active imagination. I’m not sure you want me going around town sharing my theories with other people ...”
“Go for it,” I mutter. “Nothin’ that hasn’t been shared around before.”
She huffs. “You were supposed to fall for that and then share with me why you are the way you are.”
“Not sure why it matters to you, woman, considerin’ we ain’t friends.”
“That’s not very nice,” she points out.
I shrug. “Not a very nice person.”
“Is your little girlfriend still tied to the bed? I’m sure she is fully aware of how mean you are.”
I look at her, putting the glass of milk in the microwave.
“Not my girlfriend, don’t do girlfriends.”
“What is she then? Your toy?”
“Basically.”
“Ugh.”
“You asked.”
“Well, I didn’t expect such a brutal answer.”
“Honesty ...”
She nods. “Fair enough. Okay, well, how come you like tying women up?”
I pull my milk out. “What makes you think it’s me? Ever think it might be them?”
She snorts. “No. Why in the hell would it be them?”
“Some women like being controlled.”
“Weirdos.”
I snort and glance at her, studying her fucking lovely face. She’s not a classic beauty, and she’s not blonde and hot like most of the girls I have around, but she has something about her, something fucking incredible that makes my dick fucking hard every time I look at her. Maybe it’s her outrageous confidence and lack of fear, or maybe that she knows exactly who she is and what she wants and isn’t afraid of it.
Whatever it is.
She outshines most women.
“Anything else you want to know before I go back to bed, considerin’ you’re askin’ my entire life story?”
She smiles, and fuck me, it about takes me off my feet.
“Nope, that’s it for now. Although, I must point out, it’s rather cute that you’re drinking warm milk because you can’t sleep.”
“Goin’ now,” I grunt, turning and walking toward my room.
“The gruffness only makes it cuter,” she calls after me.
“My mom did it for me. Tradition,” I yell back. “Not fuckin’ cute.”
“That just made it ultimate cute,” she yells, and her voice echoes down the hall. “Goodnight, cutie.”
I smile. It’s small, but there.
Fuck me.
She’s almost addictive.
~6~
SASKIA
The doorbell rings, and I’m midway through scrubbing the windows. I solemnly swear I will never, ever, ever have this many windows in any house I live in. My God, they’re always getting dusty, and I swear all I do is clean windows. I put my cloth down and wipe my hands on my shorts, walking over to the door and opening it. This is the first time anyone has come to visit Mason, so I can honestly say, I have no idea who I’ll find when I open the door.
I swing it open, and my heart starts racing.
Definitely not who I thought I’d find.
Standing in front of me is my sister.
I could have easily gone the rest of my life and never, ever, not for a single second, seen her again. But here she is, standing in front of me, smirking.
Smirking.
I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so much in my entire life.
Ever.
But good lord do I want to reach over and slap her across the face.
“What the hell are you doing here, and how in the hell did you know where I was?” I demand, crossing my arms.
She peers past me, glancing around, eyes wide.
Money hungry.
Always money hungry.
“This place is huge, you could have sold off just one item in here and paid Enzo’s debt off.”
“I’m not a lying, manipulative, cheat. You got that gene.”
She looks back to me. “Still sour?”
“How did you find me, Yolanda?”
“You gave Enzo the address and details on where you are working now. He told me.”
He told her?
Enzo fucking told her?
My chest clenches, and I hate the way it feels; I hate it so much I want to slam the door in her face and then cry because I feel so damned sorry for myself. Which is pathetic, sure, but how dare he? He knows how much he hurt me. God,
he knows, and yet he did the worst thing he could possibly do. He sent my sister to me. Knowing how betrayed I am by both of them.
Is he going to punish me forever for getting him locked away?
It’s starting to seem like it.
“Well,” I say, “I don’t want anything to do with you so, by all means, turn your ass around and go home. I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say.”
She smiles. “Oh, but you are.”
“No, trust me, I’m not.”
Her eyes, the same color as mine, lock, and she says, “I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, it feels like my whole world has been knocked off its axis. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but stand there, wondering if I just got put into my worst nightmare and I’m about to wake up any second. Because she could not have possibly said what I think she just said. She could not be standing here, telling me that not only did she take my boyfriend, ruin my relationship, but now she’s pregnant.
Is it his?
Of course it is.
She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.
“I told Enzo you had a right to know, and so he gave me your address so I could come and tell you the good news myself.”
I want to kill her.
To mame her.
To make her suffer in agony.
My heart is racing, and my palms are sweating. I literally feel like I’m going to fall to the ground. I have zero control over my body.
“Leave,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“You’re not going to even congratulate me? I mean, it’s your little niece or nephew in there. It did nothing wrong.”
“Leave. My. House.”
“It’s not your house, Saskia. It’s some rich dudes. And, honestly, you could set us all up if you just stole a few things. Maybe then Enzo would forgive you. We are short on cash, and with a baby coming, it would be helpful to have some money. I bet he’s got more than one expensive thing inside there. Let me have a look ...”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House.”
She stares at me. “I didn’t force your boyfriend to sleep with me. I don’t know why you’re so angry. We have something. Something special. We’re together now. I’m your sister. You’re going to have to get used to it.”
“You’re not my sister, in fact, you’re absolutely nothing to me. You will never be anything to me. Now get out, before I call the cops and have you thrown out. Believe me, it would make my day. I wonder how that would look for Enzo, his new girlfriend running around causing problems?”
Those words make my throat burn, they hurt that much to say.
But I want her gone.
I’ll say whatever I have to to get her out.
She scowls at me. “This isn’t over, Saskia. You owe us both.”
“I owe you nothing.”
She shrugs, and glances past me again. “We’ll see.”
She turns and strides down the driveway and toward her car, which isn’t her car, it’s Enzo’s car. I know, because we purchased it together when we first moved in to our first place. We were both so happy we had our own set of wheels that we owned together. Seeing her getting into it makes my heart twist in a way that’s ugly, and painful, and so incredibly broken.
Damn her to hell for coming into my life and turning it upside down.
But mostly, damn him.
For actually letting her.
~*~*~*~
SASKIA
Vodka.
My sweet, sweet friend.
I finished up my work quickly when Yolanda left, and then I found a bottle of vodka that I’ll replace if I remember, if not, too bad. I have to scrub his toilets; he can give me a bottle of vodka for that task alone. I take my bottle out onto the back patio, overlooking that pool and those incredible gardens, and I sit down, unscrewing the lid. I don’t pour it into a glass or mix it with juice—I put the bottle to my lips and tip it back, swallowing the burning liquid clean down my throat.
I shudder and squint my eyes, hissing through my teeth as my throat protests from the invasion.
I don’t care.
I need something to make it go the hell away.
Because fuck Enzo. And fuck Yolanda. And fuck whatever brought this shit into my life. I was happy, god dammit. I thought I was one of the lucky ones who found the man of her dreams first up, who was going to get married, and have kids and be happy. Sure, I have a shitty ass excuse for a family, but Enzo was the light in all that. To me, he was my family.
And then somehow, we got here.
And fuck being here, because being here is a shitty ass feeling.
I take another drink, cringing with every second that passes as it slides down my throat. I close my eyes, trying to take away the ache in my heart, which is making me feel pathetic. Pathetic because why in the hell do I care for someone like him? What is wrong with my brain? I should just flip it all the bird and move on, yet I’m strangely attached to the man who broke my heart.
Is it purely because he slept with Yolanda, or is it because I actually love him?
And damn her, to hell and back again. The thought of her carrying Enzo’s child, the child that I was supposed to have with him, has me drinking two big gulps of vodka.
Alcohol isn’t meant to solve any problems, but right now it better damn well have a good go at solving mine.
“Bad day?”
I didn’t hear anyone come in, so I flinch and spin around when I hear Mason’s voice coming from behind me. I look over my shoulder for a moment at him, and then I mumble, “Something like that.”
He walks out further, beer in hand, and grabs a chair with the other, dragging it over so he’s sitting sort of in front of me, sort of next to me. I don’t have to twist to see him, so that’s a plus.
“Want to tell me what made you decide to drink vodka straight from the bottle?”
“Ex-boyfriends. Sisters. Babies.”
He glances at me. “Elaborate.”
I exhale, because what the hell? Mason has no involvement with what’s going on, and I don’t need to tell him much, just the basics.
“I walked in on my sister sleeping with my boyfriend. She showed up today to tell me she’s pregnant with his baby.”
Mason grunts. “Fuck. That’s brutal.”
I drink more of the vodka. “Yeah, it gets better, though. After I found them, I went to the cops and told them about his involvement with drugs, and he got six months in prison. I was so damned angry, I mean, my sister ... Seriously?”
“Don’t know what’s worse, your boyfriend doin’ it, or your sister lettin’ him.”
“Amen to that, dude,” I mutter.
“Guessin’ he didn’t take too well to you gettin’ him locked up?”
“Not too well, no. But the worst part is, he got so angry at me and now, somehow, I feel bad about it all. I feel like I need to help him get out and fix his problems, because the thought of him hating me, really sucks.”
“Still love him then?”
I nod. “I guess, yeah. Which makes me disgusted in myself because dammit, he’s a scumbag.”
“Right about that,” Mason mutters. “Fuckin’ scum to do that to your woman. Don’t feel bad about actin’ out your revenge. Fuck, I’d have done a whole lot worse.”
I laugh bitterly. “I’m sure you would have.”
“You still talk to this dick, obviously?”
“Yes, because, apparently, I don’t have a brain.”
Mason grunts, and it almost sounds like he was trying to fight a laugh. “Feelings are fucked, lady. If we could control them, life would be a whole lot sweeter. But we can’t, so we gotta deal with whatever raises its head. I can’t tell you what to do. If it was me, I’d leave the fucker in there and do better, but it ain’t me, it’s you, and only you know what’s right for you.”
I look to him, brows raised. “Damn, biker, that was some solid advice.”
He shrugs. “Lived a little longer than you, lear
ned a few things.”
“Have you learned how to commit a murder without getting caught? Like say your sister sleeps with your boyfriend, and you’re really pissed, and she’s rubbing it in your face, would there, theoretically, be any way to ... well ... accidentally murder her?”
Mason’s eyes flash with a little humor. “Plenty of ways, none of which you’re goin’ to do because you’re too good for that.”
“I was asking for a friend, I’d never do such a thing.”
I press a hand to my chest and feign being offended. Mason looks to me then shakes his head and sips his beer. Then, he stands. “Get up, we’re goin’ out.”
“What? Where?”
“Club cookout. Came home to get changed. You wanna meet the rest of them, then stand up and meet me out front in ten minutes.”
“You’re taking me to your club?” I ask, shocked.
“Yeah, there are women there. Ones who understand all this emotional shit. I’m not goin’ to sit here listenin’ to it all night, depressin’ as fuck.”
I grin at him. “You’re secretly sweet, I knew it.”
“Just said I didn’t want to get stuck with you.”
“You like me.”
“Not particularly.”
“You do.”
“Nope.”
“Yes, how wonderful.”
He growls and shakes his head. “Ten, Saskia.”
“Okay, friend, ten it is. Are we riding on your bike? Because that would be epic!”
“Nah, truck.”
“Okay, bike it is. I’ll put on some jeans.”
I skip off, well on my way to being tipsy, and get changed into a pair of jeans, a clean tank, and then I run a brush through my hair and do it in a lose braid before pulling on a pair of knee-high boots over my jeans and rushing out the front. My smile gets huge when I see Mason on the bike, looking so god damned fine I actually stop and just admire the view for a moment. God damn, he’s the picture of perfection. Scary, dangerous perfection.
His eyes find mine, and his dark hair is loosely tied, so some of it escapes and whips around in the breeze, and damn if my vagina doesn’t curl into itself with need. His massive biceps flash for a few seconds, before he pulls on his leather jacket and yells out, “Those boots.”
I walk over, glancing down at them. “What about them?”