“Prove it,” she says, her voice husky.
“What?”
“Fuck me like you own me, B. Then promise me that we’re it. We’ll build a fucking life together after grad. I want this. My whole life I’ve wanted someone like you, B. Someone who accepts someone like me. I want us to be messy and real and ridiculously in love.”
The joy and lust that rush my limbs are overwhelming, and I push her against a nearby maple and kiss her, hard. And when I pull back, we’re both panting, our eyes wide. I give her a cocky grin and grind my hard cock against her center. Then, I grab her hand, pulling her roughly toward the slope of the hill. “C’mon, let’s get this romanticnorthern lights shit over with because I’m not sure how long I can last without fucking you senseless.”
Fi giggles and stumbles after me, and I realize that I’ve never felt this fucking happy. Ever.
The car stops,and I’m jolted back to reality. Sebastian thanks Link’s driver as we get out on the curb in front of the theater. I stare down the street, a heavy feeling of loss still sitting in my gut from my earlier memory.
Fi sniffs, wipes her reddened eyes, and gives me a weak smile.
She’s scared.
We all are.
Bastian seems to sense our emotional turmoil and steps between us, his arm falling over Fi’s shoulders and his warm fingers linking with mine. I stare at our hands—almost the same size—and the ache in my chest eases a bit.
We walk to the side of the building, maneuvering around puddles. It’s still sprinkling.
“So what do you guys say to a movie night? Like we did in the cabin?” Bastian asks.
Fi nods thoughtfully. “I can read too. I broughtThe Sword of Shannarawith us.”
“You did?” I say at the same time as Sebastian, and we glance at each other and grin. As silly as it sounds, we both agreed that Fi reading to us was our favorite pastime.
Fi steps up to the back door and starts to punch in a passcode, and that’s when I hear the scrape of footsteps behind us. Sebastian notices as well and turns quickly, pulling me and Fi slightly behind him.
But I recognize the figure approaching, and it’s not Dennis. The man has slicked-back sandy-blond hair, a neatly trimmedbeard, and cold olive-green eyes that pin me with a disapproving glare.
“Hello, Brantley,” Ryan Michaels—my dad—says as he stops about six feet in front of us. He’s wearing an expensive three-piece suit and stands ramrod straight with one hand in his pocket—the poster child for rich assholes everywhere.
Bastian relaxes his stance, but he still eyes my dad warily. Fi is staring daggers at him, armed with the knowledge that he played a part in our breakup.
Even after all I’ve done to escape my dad’s orbit, he still manages to make me feel like a helpless little boy. I try to stand taller when I step toward him. “What’re you doing here, Dad? How the fuck did you even find me?”
He frowns as if I’ve disappointed him, which, let’s be honest, I probably have, big time. “You’re my son, Brantley. Do you really think I don’t know where you are at all times?”
“I’m not your son,” I spit. “I’m your property. I was a failed investment, right, Dad? You didn’t even visit me in the hospital after the accident.”
“I wasn’t about to reward you for your failure, but I did expect you to be back in the rink by now. I suspect you would be if you weren’t distracted by whatever this is.” He waves his hand at us, and then his eyes drop to my hand, which is still joined with Bastian’s. I instinctively let go. “And now you’re withhimtoo? Guess you turned out to be a faggot after all.”
The slur opens an old wound in my chest, and a locked-away memory floats to the surface: saying goodbye to Aiden. We stood in the woods to the side of his house while his parents loaded their belongings into the U-Haul. I can still feel his soft lips brushing mine.
It was my father’s fault he left. It was his fault that I hurt Fi. If Bastian leaves too…
I hate that my eyes flood with tears.How am I still so weak?
“Are you going to cry about it, Brantley?” The way he mocksme fills me with so much shame, but a spark of anger takes hold and I grasp at it.
I’m done letting him hurt me.
I take another step forward, but he lunges at me first. His fist connects with my cheek, and I fall back, pain exploding in my jaw. It’s much worse than when Sebastian hit me, and I land in a puddle, gritty water splashing onto my face and into my mouth.
“B!” Fi screams, dropping to my side. She cradles my cheek, her gentle fingers grazing my tender skin. Vertigo sours my stomach and my vision blurs.
My father’s unhinged laughter echoes in the parking lot. “Can’t even take a punch. I thought you were a hockey player. Pathetic.” He pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes his knuckles. “I’ll call your trainer tomorrow, and we’ll get you back into shape.”
