He swings his long legs off the lounger, turns toward me, and leans in. “Pretty fucked up. Dudes know when a chick’s too hammered to consent. He should’ve left you alone.” The anger in his voice is unmistakable.
I make sure to hold his stare. “Yeah,” I whisper.
He studies the ground, his elbows on his knees, hands hanging between his legs. “Someone should have kicked his ass.”
“It’s not all his fault. I knew better than to drink that much.” Even now, I remember the cold that seeped into my body, the aching between my legs. The disgust I felt at having lost my virginity and not remembering a thing. “I was such an idiot.”
“The fuck you were.” His growled words make me jump. “That pussy-ass bitch knew exactly what he was doing. You call the cops?”
Cops? Why? To announce to the Seattle PD that I’m a teenage slut? “No.”
He drops his head into his hands with a muttered “Fuck me.” He passes his big palms over his cropped hair a few times, looking away. Then, with a groan, he’s back to my eyes. “Where the hell was your dad? He had to know that fart-suckin’ douche-bag took more than you wanted to give him.”
“After I found out I was pregnant, my dad’s the one who encouraged us to get married. He’s from a different generation.” I can’t take the disappointment in Blake’s eyes. Suddenly the frayed strings of my jeans become interesting. “Told me I had to make it right.”
“Make it right? You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” He’s up and pacing the length of his deck. “What is it with dads and their daughters? First Raven, now you,” he mumbles to himself. “Not a fucking decent one out there. Should be protecting their girls, not sending them into the arms of a predator. Shit.”
“I don’t regret it.”
His glare swings to mine, eyebrows pinched.
“That night brought me Elle.”
A tenderness that starts at his mouth bleeds across to his jaw and up, relaxing his expression. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
He steps back to his lounger and sits on the end. His shoulders are still tense, and he doesn’t recline. “Why do you call her Elle?”
“After I found out I was pregnant, my parents flipped out. They dragged me to Stewart’s house.” I twirl a piece of hair around my finger. “It was so embarrassing. Listening to our parents talk about…” My cheeks heat. Even sixteen years later, the memory is still so vivid. “They decided we needed to get married. Holding up appearances and all. Stewart was on his way to taking over his dad’s pharmaceutical company. Didn’t want the messy scandal of an illegitimate child running through the papers.”
Blake’s face is hard, his expression blank.
“I had no choice. They took my choices away from me.”
The big fighter across from me flinches. Actually flinches. He recovers fast, the impassive expression back in place.
“The day I gave birth to Elle, I knew it was the end of my choices. But…” I drop my face, peek up at him from beneath my lashes, and smile. “I had one more to make. Her name.”
He nods.
“Naming her Axelle Rose was my big ‘fuck you’.” I giggle and cover my mouth, a little ashamed at how I used my daughter to get to my parents.
“You rebel.” His lips twitch, and something that looks like pride shines behind his eyes. “That’s fuckin’ beautiful.”
“Yeah, it was. It felt really good. If you could have seen their faces when I told them I named my daughter Axelle Rose.” I double over, holding my stomach as a wave of hysteria hits me hard. “Stewart’s… mom…” Unable to finish my sentence through the laughter, I suck in a deep breath and regain my calm. “No one would call her Axelle. They called her Elle. Guess it stuck.”
He runs his thumb over his eyebrow. “Took a lot of strength. Becoming a mom in high school.”
I shrug. “You’d be amazed the things you’re capable of when you have no other choice.” Both good and bad.
A low grumble of approval, and then silence. We sit like that for a while, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. Not an awkward What the hell do I say now silence, but a Felt good to unload that pile of bricks silence.
I haven’t told that story in… well, ever.
After a few more minutes, I check my watch. Almost midnight. “I better get back.”
He reaches over and grabs my boots, handing them to me. I slide them on and settle my feet on the ground. He offers his hand and pulls me up. Standing only inches away, he doesn’t drop my hand. I tilt my head back to look at his face.
He’s not smiling.
Blake
Punch something. As soon as her perfect ass walks out of my door, I’m going to punch something.
It’s taken every damn thing I have not to pound my patio furniture into kindling.
Sixteen. Drunk. And totally fuckin’ vulnerable.
Staring down at her now, a grown woman, she’s the picture of innocence. All big brown eyes and pouty lips. And this woman has been through some shit. The kind of shit that changes a person forever, and rewrites the grand plan of who she’s supposed to become. All so some horny teenage kid could get his dick wet at a party. Probably showin’ off for his crew of walking hard-ons. If Layla was even a tenth of the beauty she is now, she must’ve had those boys following her around for years before they finally got her drunk enough for a chance. The second he got the stumbling-drunk green light, that motherfu—
“Thanks for understanding… ya know…. everything.” She fidgets, and her eyes look everywhere but at me. “Sorry about busting up your plans.”
“Plans?” I blink and try to clear the image of a teenage Layla, broken and alone.
Her cheeks flush pink. “The parking lot? Thanks for being so cool about it.”
“It’s not the first time a good-looking woman has pulled me away from a chick.” I internally groan, my attempt at humor only making me look like a bigger jackass.
But I can’t tell her the truth. That the only reason I hooked up with that chick was because she looked a little like Layla. She’d never understand that being around her makes me feel like I’m caged, ripping at my skin to get to her.
Layla pulling me away from that girl did me a favor. Although she looked a lot like Layla, she didn’t smell like the sweet vanilla that makes my mouth water. She didn’t throw sass or give me the attitude that makes my dick hard. Once I got the girl alone, all I wanted to do was get rid of her.
“Whatever.” She holds up her hand. “Again, not my business.”
No, but why do I wish like hell it was?
We stroll in silence down to the car, and then drive to her house. It’s quiet in the Rubicon except for the sound of Lagwagon as it fills the vacant space. Her apartment complex is dark, most of the security lights in need of new bulbs. I grind my teeth as I imagine her and Axelle making the trek from the lot to the stairs at night. Alone.
I park the Rubicon and hop out to walk around to her door.
She’s already out. “I’ve got it from here.”
“I’m walking you up.” I make it a point to lock eyes with her, daring her to argue.
Shrugging her purse onto her shoulder, her lips curl into a smile. “That’s very chivalrous of you.”
“I am chivalrous.” Fuck. Why did that sound so defensive?
I never gave a second thought to the way women see me. They like what they see, they let me know. They don’t? No sweat off my sac. Don’t remember ever having a lack of women ready and available.