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Painful, but clear cut.
I gave Wes a choice, and he didn’t choose me.
So, I chose myself, and while I knew Wes did know how many people I had been with since we broke up, not even one of them had ever seen me in that position I’d just been in with him. I hooked up with my clothes on, usually with them just bending me over the couch and getting off, but I’d never once put my mouth on another man. I had never let another man taste me, the way he had.
I had never even orgasmed. I’d made myself sick when I allowed my hurt to draw me into such a toxic place that I agreed to hooking up. If I was over Wes, I wouldn’t have beat myself up for it, but with each person, it all came back to him.
The one hookup that lasted three dates was only because it was around my birthday and I was feeling sorry for myself, but I’d never forget how he had lifted my dress and took what he needed from me while I held onto the edge of my kitchen table. Tears ran down my cheeks, and not because he’d entered me bone dry. I cried because that guy had been the third person I had hooked up with, and through the years, I kept thinking the pain of Wes would wane, but it never had. If anything, by that time I’d gotten to the last one, the ache was unbearable.
It proved that a metal casting had been molded around my heart, and only Wes would ever fit it. He was permanently there, and I was doomed to never love again.
I couldn’t change the past any more than he could. This was why I didn’t want to give in to him because there was too much water under our bridge to navigate any of the waters without incident.
We were broken, and there was no amount of chemistry that would repair what we’d done to each other. I knew where this road would end. Wes was still tied to this club, and I still refused to ever be a part of it.
Based off what just happened, it didn’t matter anyway.
Wes didn’t want me other than to make a point, and tonight, he’d made it.
I just didn’t expect the point to be dagger sharp, or to cut so deep.
EIGHTEEN
CALLIE
AGE 18
My father wasin charge of babysitting me today.
It was a rather ridiculous sentiment, but after the past two weeks, I didn’t really give a shit. I was beyond caring about who watched over me. Some days it was Killian, others it was Red, and occasionally it was my boyfriend.
I started speaking to him again, but it came in the form of me telling him what to do while he fucked me. We quickly found that to be our quickest and most effective way to get back to normal. I needed him emotionally, but after a while, he was being so supportive that it bugged me, and it felt like I couldn’t be angry with him over joining. And I was furious. But after time, I realized there was nothing I could do to change it. So I was either going to accept it, or lose him.
I wasn’t really ready for either option, but losing myself to the orgasms he provided so willingly seemed like a good place to start.
I sat on the couch inside the cabin with an oversized hoodie over my body while a sitcom played on the television. My father and I hadn’t spoken since it happened.
I was getting better at staying awake and not sleeping through each day, but it was still difficult to put a term to what happened.
Kidnapped.
“Callie, I made dinner,” my dad said softly from the kitchen.
I peered over my shoulder, making eye contact. “Not hungry.”
Hadn’t been hungry in a while. Only Wes could get me to squeeze one of those kid Gogurt yogurt packets into my mouth, occasionally a smoothie, but I just wasn’t in the mood to eat.
My dad stood there for a while before he clicked his tongue.
“That’s enough, get up.” He moved to where I was sitting and tugged on my wrists.
“Dad!”
He shook his head. “No, this isn’t you. No fucker on this planet gets to dull your shine, baby girl. Let’s go.”
That was likely the most he’d say on the subject of me being taken, but I wasn’t surprised. He had me walking, my feet were bare, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pushed his way outside. The sun was setting, dusk was hanging low in the sky, making the ground shadowed. My dad broke away, striding toward the small shed. It was tiny, couldn’t even fit an entire body inside. Dad used it for shovels, bug spray and apparently our treasure jars.
“You still have those?” I asked, coming up behind him.
