Page 64 of The Hallows Boys

“Why don’t we get you into bed, huh, Dad?” I suggest softly, stepping forward and reaching out for him, attempting to guide him back to the hallway. He swings like it’s a reflex for him, his fist slamming against the base of my jaw and making my head fly back.

I wince, and he swings again, slamming loose and heavy knuckles against my eye socket. I fall to the floor, everything vibrating around me as blackness takes over my vision.

He kicks me once in the ribs, throwing the beer bottle down at me. “Disgusting fucking shit.”

I blink through the pain, both in my ribs and my face, and watch sideways as he curls his lip at me one last time before he turns around, heading back through the door and down the hallway again on swaying legs.

He mutters the entire time he walks through the house, and I listen as he pulls the fridge open to grab another beer, then he continues talking shit as he goes for his bedroom. I don’t dare move until I hear his bedroom door slam shut.

Standing up, I poke my head out into the hallway just in case, then I sprint for my room. Locking the door behind me, I shoot Beckham a text telling him I’m coming over, then I get dressed.

Once I have on a black hoodie and sweatpants, I slip my phone into my pocket and pull my bedroom door open. The TV is still blaring from when my father was occupying the living room, but I ignore it and slide past to go out the front door.

The walk to Beckham’s house is about five minutes, and since the sun has set, the chill of the coming winter seeps through my clothing and dances over my skin. I savor it though, loving the kiss of the cold against my body. Some people thrive in the sunshine, the heat of the sun on their skin, but I’ve always loved a cold, dark night. It grounds me, makes me feel like I’m still alive. Maybe that’s the Hallows Boy inside of me, but I’d take a dark, chilly night over a bright, warm day every single time.

The moon is hanging full over the cloudless sky, and even when I pull my hood up over my wet hair, the breeze still sends shudders deep into my bones.

Becks is outside on the porch when I’m finally walking up his driveway, his chest and feet bare and a pair of black sweats hanging low on his hips. He’s leaning against the wall, the cigarette between his lips lighting up his face. When he sees me, he slips it between his fingers and smirks at me.

“Aren’t you cold?” I ask as I near him, then pull the cigarette from his hand to take a drag.

“I’m cold-blooded,” he answers, scanning me with his eyes as I blow out smoke. “Are you okay?”

I take another hit from the cigarette, letting the question hang over us as I inhale and then blow the smoke out above my head. “I’m fine.”

He holds his hand out for the cigarette, so I slide it between his fingers again. He points it at me. “You have a black eye.”

“It matches the bruise you have on your jaw.”

He chuckles, taking another hit from the cigarette. “What happened?”

I shrug. “Drop it.”

He takes the last hit off his cigarette, then tosses it into the gravel. “C’mon.”

I follow him into the quiet house, through the living room and into his bedroom. He falls down onto his bed, holding an arm out for me. “Come here.”

I slip my shoes off, then crawl onto the bed and lay my head down on his arm. We lie together in silence for a while, and I find myself trying to match his breathing, like he’s calming my racing heart without even trying to. Once my rushing blood has slowed back to a normal rate, I look up at him.

His eyes find mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “I want to talk about Sage.”

I turn onto my side, and he follows my movement so we’re facing each other on the bed. Face to face, chest to chest, hips to hips. I run a hand down his arm, and his mouth drops open a little as he reads what I’m saying with my eyes. “You want to know about…?”

I nod, my gaze dropping to his mouth. “Tell me.”

“Vin,” he groans, shifting on the bed like he can’t help but adjust himself. “It wasn’t anything fucking special.”

“Tell me, Beckham,” I breathe, looking into his eyes.

“She was asking questions about her dad.” His eyes are wild when he finally looks at me. “I tricked her into it. I couldn’t help it.”

I stare at him, wordless, waiting for him to continue.

He licks his lips. “I took her to the back of the library.” I flex my hips, pressing my thickening cock into his hip and making him suck in a breath. “I pulled her little shorts down to her knees, ripped her tights, and bent her over a bookshelf.”

“Show me,” I groan, making his eyebrows lift in surprise. I slide my hand into the front of his sweats, wrapping my fingers around his cock roughly. “Show me, Becks.”

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