Page 147 of Bad for Me

Storm takes my hand and leads me to our end of the house. Our rooms are deep inside the mansion, far away from everything else. Before my mom and I moved in, he had the entire east wing to himself. It has a total of four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room space, a small library, a game room and a bar area for snacks and drinks. Vince was shocked and a little hesitant when Storm insisted I move into one of his rooms, but I loved it. Being close to him was great, allowing us to slip into each other's rooms without being caught. No one was permitted into Storm's section of the house without his express consent, and he kept the doors locked so everyone had to knock.

I can feel myself wavering on my feet, ready to collapse, so I just let Storm lead, not even speaking up when he passes my room and heads straight to his. Flicking on the lights, Storm does a quick scan of the space. It smells fresh, like it was recently cleaned, and I notice the bed sheets have been changed. There is a bowl of fruit, a plate of sandwiches and a tall pitcher of juice beside the bed, and I know Mom has been in here because they are all my favorites.

Storm pulls back the sheets and watches me climb into bed. I expect him to join me, but he tucks the blankets around me instead.

“I’m going to go back to Dad’s office and work through more stuff while you rest. I will wake you if we find anything,” he says before I can protest. He places a kiss on my forehead, and my eyes fall closed.

* * *

A barely audibleknock on the door that leads into our section of the house pulls me from my restless sleep. Yawning, I stretch and climb from the massive bed. I pull on some jeans that are a little too tight and a T-shirt I haven't seen since I moved out.

"Coming!" I shout when the knocking comes again, louder and more demanding. I jerk the door open and barely repress an irritated groan. "God, Mom, what's the rush? And why are you even knocking? Usually you just barge right in."

Mom smiles, and I step aside, letting her in. "I didn't want to barge in in case you were... busy," she says with a mischievous little smirk, and I flush crimson, embarrassment and anger filling me. "And I only knocked again because I thought you might not have heard me. I would have come in if you hadn't come after that. I was just being polite."

I try to shove the anger down. I never enjoyed fighting with Mom, not after everything we went through with Dad, but this is different from anything she’s ever done. I must not be as successful as I'd hoped because Mom frowns at me. "What's wrong, Ash? Are you worried about your friend? You know Vince and Storm will find him."

"You sent him away!" I snap, the anger and hurt I’ve felt since learning the reason behind Storm's disappearance bubbling over at her attempt to act like she has no idea what's going on.Mom flinches back, but I push on. “He was everything to me. My best friend. My protector. My first and only love. But you and Vince decided we needed to be separated without even talking to me. You threatened him, told him if he didn’t go, you would send me away. You forced him to go, and then for two years, you let me think he chose to leave me, that he abandoned me. You took him away from me.” My rant cuts off in a sob, and I stumble back when she tries to reach for me. “And then you have the nerve to come in here and joke about us being together as if it's no big deal.”

“Ashby,” Mom says, trying to reach for me again. “Please, sweetheart, let me explain.”

“I don’t have time right now. My best friend, the second most important person to me, was kidnapped because of me, and I need to go and help find him.”

“Ashby, Vince and Storm are taking care of things right now. Please, just give me ten minutes to explain.”

I huff loudly, my fists clenching so tight I feel my nails dig into my skin. “Fine. Ten minutes. But I’m not sure there is anything you could say right now to fix this. What the two of you did nearly broke me.”

Tears glitter in Mom’s eyes before spilling over and running down her pale cheek. “I didn’t realize how important to you he was.”

“You would have if you asked. You were so busy trying to protect me from the world, and I know you meant well, but you babied me. You treated me like I didn’t have a mind or a voice of my own. I know what Dad did to you, to us, scared you. It scared me, too. But we escaped. We started a new life. You allowed yourself to be free and happy with Vince but kept me trapped in a box because of your fear.” I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. “Storm was the first person to ever look at me and see more than just my past. He treated me as an equal even while protecting me from those wanting to hurt me with a fierceness that I know looks scary from the outside. But he cared about me more than anything else in the world. He listened to me when I talked, took an interest in my interests, and made sure I always got to do whatever I wanted, even if he had to sneak us out to do it. Heknewme, Mom. He saw every scared, beaten, broken inch and loved me anyway. He helped me get stronger. He showed me I was more than the weak boy who couldn’t protect his mother.”

Mom gasps and I finally allow myself to look at her. Her cheeks are bright red and soaked with tears, and her hands are twisted tightly together on her lap. Her mouth opens and closes, only small broken sounds coming out.

“You are not weak,” she whispers after a moment, wiping angrily at her tears. “What your father did to us was awful, but it was my responsibility to protect you, not the other way around. I did my best, but I should have gotten us out of there sooner. I’m sorry I let it go on as long as it did. I’m sorry I ever let him put his hands on you.” I try to cut her off and tell her she did everything she could, but she holds up a hand to stop me. “I don’t want to hear it, sweetheart. Your father was a horrible, broken man. Nothing he did was our fault, but I am your mother, and I failed to protect you. When we got away, I felt like I needed to make up for all the years I failed to protect you and went a little crazy. I saw the way Storm was obsessed with you. He followed you around like a feral dog, barking and attacking anyone who got too close. He snapped at his dad and even me if we ever said something he didn’t like to you.”

Mom smiles slightly at that, and a memory pops into my head. Storm, holding me behind his back as he yelled at his dad and my mom because mom tried to ground me for not turning in a project at school. They didn’t know it, but I’d done the project. Before I could turn it in, one of the boys who loved to bully me caught me without Storm around and destroyed it.

“Then he started hurting you. It was small at first, the bruises on your neck. But I came to talk to you about it a few months before your nineteenth birthday, and I saw you with your shirt off. Your body was covered in bruises and cuts. I panicked and thought you were getting pulled into a situation like I was in with your father. Storm is the heir to his father’s organization, and I have never seen him show empathy or remorse for anything he’s done. I went to Vince and told him my fears, and he promised to keep an eye on things.

“It took a few weeks, but then he saw the same thing I did. He walked into the gym and saw you and Storm wrestling around on the mats, and your shirt had pulled up. He saw the marks covering you and promised he would find a way to fix this.”

I can feel my heart racing, nerves and embarrassment nearly keeping me from speaking. “It was consensual,” I speak barely above a whisper. Mom frowns, and I huff, stiffening my spine and blurt the rest out. “I like the way he marksmewhenwekiss.”

Now, it’s Mom’s turn to flush, the embarrassment on her face a mirror to my own.

“I love him, and he loves me,” I say after an awkward silence. “We were fooling around together, and we both quickly learned how much we enjoyed having him mark me. They weren’t bruises from him hurting me. They were bruises and scratches from him kissing me and claiming me.”

“Well…” Mom stutters out. “How can you be sure he isn’t taking advantage of you or using you? That kind of claiming is toxic and unhealthy, Ashby.”

My fury returns, and I stand from my seat. “Mom, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?” She nods slightly. “I love Storm. Nothing, and no one willEVERtake him from me again. You and Vince did it once, but I will not let you do it again. I don’t care what you think about our love; it’sOURS. I don’t need your approval. We are both consenting adults, and we were both consenting teenagers. Nothing we have ever done was through force or manipulation. I wanted it. I begged for it. I needed to feel wanted. All my life, I was told how weak I was, how pathetic and useless I was. Storm only ever made me feel strong and appreciated. He’s obsessed with me, and being his sole focus is intoxicating.”

I pause, my chest heaving as I struggle to slow my breathing and calm my heart. “He’s mine just as much as I am his. He has just as many marks beneath his clothes as I do. This isn’t one-sided. I love you, Mom, and I understand that you are only trying to protect me and that it’s hard for you to trust after Dad, but I’m a grown man now. I trusted that you knew what you were doing when you married Vince, a crime boss and leader of a massive organization of illegal dealings. I never questioned your decision because I could see he made you happy. So, I expect the same respect and trust from you that I know what I am doing.”

Mom stares at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. I can see she still doesn’t fully trust the situation, but she must realize how serious I am because instead of arguing, she says, “I’m sorry, Ashby. You’re right. You’re an adult, and I need to trust you to make your own decisions.”

“Thank you,” I say and walk over to her, pulling her into a solid hug. “I love you mom.”

“I love you too,” she whispers against my hair.

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