Page 25 of Blue

“Blue?”

“I need to pee.” I headed across the room, entered the bathroom, and used every ounce of willpower not to slam the door. I gasped for a breath, and the sharp, cutting pain of adrenaline knifed through me.

I rested my forehead against the door, breathed hard and fast, and tried to calm my rampant pulse. My hands balled into fists. I wanted out of my fucking head.

I remembered his lecherous stares and the sick feel of his hands on me, covering my mouth to keep me from crying. He’d rub himself against me. Never when anyone could see. Always with the promise of consequences if I made a sound, if I talked aboutour little secret,if I tried to resist.

If I told anyone.

At ten, with the first touches, I’d been petrified with fear. By twelve, he was jacking me off and telling me it was my fault. By the time I was thirteen, he wanted more, and the threats started. I believed him because he had receipts. He’d taken photos, both of what he’d done to me…and what he’d had me do to him.

I could still hear his voice.

“You can’t blame me, Brantley.” He locked the door to the boathouse.Because of him, I hated summers on the lake. I hated swimming even though I was good at it. I hated wearing a speedo and feeling exposed.“Competition swimmers can’t wear swim trunks,” he said.

I wasn’t at a meet. This was our family vacation. It didn’t matter.

“You have a beautiful body. Don’t be ashamed to show it to me. You’re young and strong. It feels good to touch and be touched.”

He ogled my long legs and my thin but muscular arms. And more. He liked my chest and stomach. Concave but I had a muscular core. I fucking swam every day.

“I know how hard it is to fight against this. It’s okay to be afraid because you don’t want anyone to know.” He closed the space between us. “I can keep your secret. I won’t tell anyone what you’re making me feel, what being around you is making me do. You’re special, Brantley. No one makes me feel the way you do. Only you.”

I wanted to puke.

“It’s okay that you’re inexperienced, and you’ve been told what we do is wrong. But I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want.” His fingers trailed down my chest, over my abs, and he grazed his knuckles along the V of my groin.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. Fear laced my blood, and unshed tears burned in my eyes. I was hot all over.

He slid his hand into my speedo. “If you didn’t want me to touch you, I wouldn’t be attracted to you.” He stroked me until I was hard. I got hard eating a peanut butter and jelly. Maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. I did want to eat a PB and J. But I didn’t want my best friend’s dad, and my own dad’s best friend to touch me. An arrogant smile curled his lips as my dick hardened in his fist. “Ah, see. I was right.” He dropped to his knees…

I shook from the memory, slamming my fist into the wall, splitting the skin. Blood smeared across my knuckles. I slammed it again and again, busting through the drywall. Carl Douglas ruined my fucking life.

Kiss

I stood in the kitchen. Jazzy wrapped her arms around me as I trembled. Blue was in the bathroom losing his shit. We didn’t need to be in there with him to realize he was punching the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom.

“I keep hurting him,” I said. “I don’t even know when I’m doing something wrong.”

A loud curse echoed from behind the door, then it opened, and Blue stepped out with a bloody hand towel wrapped around his fist.

“Blue—”

“Stop, Jazzy. I’m not asking for your fortune cookie advice.”

She’d been sympathetic until he opened his mouth. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Drop the attitude. This is my fucking house. If I needed a remodel on my bathroom, I would’ve asked. What the fuck happened in there?”

He stilled, then dipped his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll replace this,” he said of the towel. “And I, uh, I’ll come by after I finish at the shop to fix the wall.”

“No. You’ve done enough.” Jazzy stepped toward him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can’t handle your drama, too. This is my home. You don’t get to come in and start busting it up.”

Blue dropped his head, and he soaked up more blood from his hand with the towel. “You think I don’t know that?”

“There is something going on with you. If you need to punch something, Rogue will take you to the basement. Talk to him or Bullet or talk to Cruz, but you need to talk to someone.”

“I can handle my own shit,” he said, grabbed his cut, and shrugged it on.

Jazzy snorted. “Handle it somewhere else. You need to go. And maybe you should stay away a couple of days.”

---