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“Ma can’t handle failure. That’s her deal,” I say slowly. “Ever since her career stumbled and went to hell, she can’t stand getting old. She thinks she has nothing to look forward to besides a few more wrinkles and a few more exes—and maybe she’s right—assuming she doesn’t OD first.”
Delia’s mouth drops.
Her eyes swell with empathy.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m not asking for tears,” I say coldly. “I spent my last two summers home trying to get her off the junk for good before I joined Enguard and decided I was done. You can’t help folks who don’t give a flying fuck about saving themselves—and Evie stopped caring when I was five.”
“Jesus,” she says softly. “I read about her, you know. Before her career fell apart, she was pretty normal, wasn’t she?”
I roll my shoulders again, wishing this goddamn conversation would end.
“How should I know? I was a kid. I’m not sure I blame everything on her acting going to pieces, either. Her life went to shit after my old man walked out.” I pause, shocked that I’m even telling her that much. I sigh and continue. “She divorced his ass because he was no good for her—too poor, too savage, too violent. She wasn’t wrong. Ma always wanted a Hollywood gem to make her shine brighter. Some marriages in entertainment are damn near arranged. Honestly, I’m surprised it took her as long as it did to figure it out. Why she ever thought it could work with some biker from a sex club, I’ll never know.”
Delia almost chokes on her wine.
“What? You’re kidding. That’s really how your folks got together? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Everything that could go wrong with two people did,” I say.
Delia winces.
She’s too innocent for life.
Slowly, I look her up and down, wondering if I’m drawn to her out of some fucked up subconscious desire to follow in my old man’s footsteps.
I’m certainly defiling a young woman who’s too good for me.
And part of me enjoys it.
I’m howling to wreck every inch of her, brand her as mine, no matter how wrong or crazy and sick in the head it is.
“Babe, you’re a smart chick, but there’s a lot to learn about the world. People don’t always get hitched and start popping out kids because they’re head over heels in love. Sometimes, they just make a big goddamned mistake because the sex is that good—and Mom’s drug was kink before she got into the other shit. I found out the hard way when I went sniffing around the old dives where my dad used to hang out.”
And what else did it teach me?
Here I am, desperately trying to tell myself I’ve got zero interest in corrupting a sweet, smart girl—my own frigging stepsister, no less.
Here I am, stuck on the little whimper she makes when my cock plunges into her, slamming her into the mattress, wanting to ruin herforever.
I wonder if I’m trying to fuck things out of my system that I should’ve dealt with years ago.
Horizontal therapy.
Regardless, it’s finished the second we’re on our flight home.
It has to be over, done, and kaput before I risk leaving us as screwed up as my parents.
“I’m not as naïve as you think,” she says with a pout. “Is that why she’s so torn up then? The breakup sent her spiraling into drugs? That’s really sad. If she had regrets—”
“My old man’s dead,” I bite off. “Road accident years after he disappeared—or so I heard from a dude in his club when I got older. He wound up joining the Grizzlies MC. You ever heard of ’em?”
She shakes her head.
“Major hardasses, especially in the old days. Whatever actually happened to Pops, who knows. Don’t care. It won’t fix how Ma fucked herself right off a cliff.”
“God. I have to keep Dad from getting hurt,” she says quietly.
