Blame It on the Pain Page 11

  "That's not the way the world works," he grumbled.

  "So let's make our own world."

  "We can't. Now you can either learn to accept it or not. But I'm marrying Penelope. It's happening. Me and her make sense together."

  I tried to push him off me again but he didn't budge. "Well, I don't accept it. It should be me. She'll never love you the way I do."

  I didn't even realize how hard the tears were falling until Ford had stopped kissing me. "Don't you get it now? We can't be together. You can't even handle kissing me without getting hysterical."

  His words lit a fury in me and before I could stop myself, I slapped him across the cheek. "Asshole."

  He looked as surprised as I felt. He bit my lip and kissed me harder. "That's right. I am an asshole. And innocent little girls like you need to stay far away and stop provoking the beast."

  "What if I love the beast? What if I accept him for all that he is?"

  His fingers grazed over my panties. "Who does this belong to?"

  I trailed kisses up his neck. "I think you know the answer to that."

  "Say it, Alyssa."

  "It's yours."

  "Is it?"

  I nodded. "You know it is."

  "Even after I marry Penelope? Is it still mine then?"

  "I don't want to think about that, Ford."

  "Well think about it, because it's happening." He slipped a finger inside the material. "Will you still wait for me then? Will you still allow me to be the first? The only? No matter how much time has passed between us?"

  I held my breath as his finger continued to stroke me. "Answer me."

  "Yes. I'll wait for you."

  "Promise me."

  "I promise."

  By the time Ford had dropped me off it was almost 3 in the morning.

  I tip-toed inside the house, being as quiet as I could.

  Until a voice stopped me in my tracks. "Who was that man that just dropped you off?" John's voice boomed.

  I turned to face him. "None of your business. Don't worry about it."

  The corner of his lips curled up. "Don't give me any sass, girl. I asked you a question and I expect an answer."

  "That controlling tone might work with my mother, for reasons I fail to comprehend; but you're surely mistaken if you think it'll have the same effect on me. I don't answer to you."

  I headed in the direction of my room when I was suddenly slammed against the wall. I rubbed the back of my head, trying to thwart off a headache that would be starting soon, thanks to him. "Touch me again and it will be the last thing you ever do, you son of a bitch," I warned.

  "Young lady, that is no way to talk to your father."

  I saw red at that moment."You might be screwing my mother, but you are not my father."

  He looked me up and down, disgust in his eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe if you actually had a father you wouldn't be walking in the house at 3 in the morning looking like a tramp."

  I was so angry I started shaking. "Yeah, well, maybe if you were half the man my father was, you wouldn't have to buy my mother off with gifts to get her to fuck you."

  The slap across my face seemed to echo throughout the entire house.

  A light turned on in the hallway and my mother stood there in shock.

  I took a step forward. “You can try and cover up manure...but at the end of the day, it still reeks like shit.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he barked.

  I looked at my mother briefly before focusing my attention back to him. "You might be in her bed now, but trust me when I say that when the booze leaves her system and reality sets in, it's not you that she wants next to her. It will always be him."

  My mother gasped but I ignored her and held up my cell phone instead. "And you just made a big mistake by touching me."

  I ran out of the house and dialed Ford's number.

  A woman's voice picked up on the third ring.

  "Hello," she answered.

  "Can I speak to Ford?" I heard some shuffling in the background. "It's 3:30 in the morning. Who is this?"

  Aggravation coursed through me as it dawned on me. "Why are you picking up his cell phone?"

  A giggle erupted, followed by the sound of his low groan. "Because he's a little preoccupied at the moment."

  I let out a shaky breath, the impact of her words sinking in.

  "Tell him it's important," I whispered.

  With a huff, I heard her faintly murmur what I said to him.

  "There's nothing more important than you, sweetheart. Just hang up on her," Ford's voice commanded before the line went dead.

  I shoved my phone into my pocket and turned back around. I was startled to find John outside on the porch smoking a cigarette.

  "Look, I'm sorry about before," he began.

  I continued walking, my heart breaking with every step. "Whatever."

  "Who was that you were on the phone with?" he asked.

  That's when the tears erupted. John stomped out his cigarette, appearing daunted.

  "It doesn't matter," I sniffed. "What we had is over, for good. He made that perfectly clear."

  He looked pleased. "Listen, I've been thinking, I want your mother to go to rehab."

  I laughed and walked past him. "Yeah, good luck with that."

  "I'm gonna make it happen, Alyssa. But I'm going to need your help."

  He held out his hand. "Truce?"

  "Fine," I muttered before heading inside.

  An hour later, my phone rang. Ford's name flashed on the screen.

  “Leave me alone,” I answered.

  “Don't be like that, Alyssa.”

  “Be like what, Ford? Be like you?”

  “Stop acting like a child. I told you the way it had to be.”

  I stayed silent.

  “I told you I'll always be there for you when you need me,” he said.

  “Yeah, except when you're too busy being there for her. I won't be the other woman.”

  He chuckled. “You'd actually have to be a woman for that to happen.”

  His words stung. There was only one way to make the pain go away. “Have a nice life, Ford.”

  ”Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. You know I love you. I will always love you. But maybe it's best that we don't talk for a while,” he said before he hung up.

  It was the last time I would speak to Ford for 4 years.

  The next time...he would shatter the rest of me.

  ***

  He stared at me for what felt like forever, finally standing up from his desk after a full 5 minutes had passed.

  His gray suit was immaculate, and even though a few lines creased his forehead with age, it only made him better looking.

  “You cut your hair,” were the first words he uttered. “It suits you. I like it. Makes you look more mature.”

  I gave him half a smile. “Most newscasters have shoulder length hair. I figured it was time to conform.”

  He nodded. “Did you get here okay?”

  I held up the keys to the BMW. “Yeah. Thanks to a certain special agent I know.”

  Nothing shocked me more than when I had received the title and a set of keys to his BMW in the mail, along with directions telling me where I could pick it up.

  On his wedding day, no less.

  Not wanting to acknowledge that statement with words, he gave me another nod.

  I wrung my hands and looked around. “I like your office.”

  “Yeah, I have the promotion to thank for that. It seems the higher up the chain I go, the less field work I do.”

  I smiled, until I spotted a picture of him and my father on his desk. His eyes followed mine and he looked away.

  Figuring this moment couldn't get any more awkward, I decided, to go for the gold. “How's Penelope?”

  “Fine,” he responded curtly.

  He seemed different now. Colder. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat and walked out from around his desk. “I guess I'm just trying to figure out exactly why you're here, Alyssa.”

  I stepped back as though I'd been punched. “You really have no idea why I'm here right now?”

  The sex tape had gone viral, my stepfather had lost the election, and my mother had officially disowned me.

  I had no one else to turn to. All roads led back to him.

  “I guess you haven't been on the internet in a while but—”

  “I saw the fucking sex tape!” he screamed loud enough to make me jump.

  Not waiting for a response, he continued. “Like I said, I'm having trouble figuring out why you're here.”

  I swallowed hard. “John won't help me and my mother's turned her back on me.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay?” I scoffed before my voice started cracking. “You're all I have left, Ford.”

  I took a step toward him and he lifted his chin. “What exactly is it that you want from me, Alyssa?”

  “It happened without my consent—”

  He cut me off. “Are you insinuating that he raped you? Because it looked like you were a willing participant.”

  “No. What I meant was that I had no idea he was filming it. I never agreed to that.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “But you agreed to spread your legs for him?”

  Before I could interject he added, “Like some kind of whore.”

  I heard that word from a lot of people after the sex tape leaked, including my own mother. But hearing it from his mouth made something inside of me snap.

  He held me against him. “Shh.” He took out a tissue and wiped my face. “Stop crying.”

  “I c-can't. You promised you would always be there f-for me.” I took a deep breath. “I need your help, Ford.”

  He kissed my forehead. “What are you willing to do for it?” he whispered.

  He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed. I backed away from him, closing my eyes in disbelief.

  I looked up at him when I heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. “No.” I shook my head. “You can't be serious.”

  I had always thought about being intimate with Ford, but not this way. Never like this.

  He smirked. “What's the matter, Alyssa? You can fuck some guy on video but not me? The man you claimed to love. The one you promised to wait for?”

  “I-I. You got married. You choose her. You said we shouldn't talk anymore,” I stammered.

  He leaned into me until I fell against the wall. “I was trying to do the right thing,” he whispered before he kissed me.

  Our mouths tangled and his hands pulled at my clothing. “What are we doing, Ford?” I panted as he kissed my neck.

  He pulled back. “You were supposed to be mine.”

  I reached for the buttons on his shirt and he lifted my skirt. “I am yours.”

  Before I knew it, my legs were wrapped around his waist and he was entering me with a loud grunt as I moaned.

  “Yeah, you like that?” he asked before pulling out and slamming into me hard.

  I could only nod, my body too far gone to form actual words.

  Until his next statement. “Of course, you do. You little slut.”

  My eyes opened wide and I stopped moving. “Wha—”

  His hand slammed over my mouth and his eyes darkened. “You heard me. You lost all your value and appeal the day you became nothing but a worthless slut. You only did it to yourself, Alyssa.”

  Tears sprung to my eyes with his cruel words as he continued thrusting and taunting me. “I loved you. I was supposed to be your first, your only. Now you're tainted...ruined.”

  He grunted his release and threw me to the ground. “Turns out you weren't that good of a fuck after all. Figure your own way out of this mess, Alyssa. I suggest you continue to whore yourself around because that's all you're good for. Now, get out of my office.”

  His hands remained clenched at his sides and he took one final look at me. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”

  I quickly gathered my clothes off the ground and left.

  After making my way out to the hallway, I reached up and felt for my necklace. With shaky hands, I tugged on it until it ripped free and fell.

  It was then that I realized.

  There are a thousand ways to break a girl...but it only takes one to kill her.

  Chapter 12 (Alyssa)

  I wake up to a pair of strong arms rocking me.

  I look up as Jackson peers down at me, concern written all over his striking face.

  I don't even realize that I fell asleep again until I glance at the clock, and it reads 3:45am.

  For a moment, I'm nervous that I've said something about Ford in my dream state.

  I expect him to start questioning me, or ask what I was dreaming about but he doesn't. Instead, his hand drops down to my cheek and brushes across the wetness gathered there. He looks at his fingers, which are now damp with my tears.

  Then he pulls me off of his lap and crushes me against him in one of the most powerful embraces I've ever experienced in my life.

  My breath leaves my lungs with a big whoosh, and all I can do is breathe him in and succumb to the warmth I feel.

  It's been so long since I've been touched like this, I almost recoil.

  He must sense this because he pulls back slightly, his thumbs graze over my cheekbones again and for a second; I think he's about to do something crazy- like kiss me.

  I find myself wanting him to do just that. I want him to fix me, make me whole again. I want him to erase the past with his purity and kindness.

  I wish our circumstances were different, I wish I was the girl he first thought I was. The girl he briefly flirted with on that walk from the fight club. The girl who isn't so damaged she barely even knows how to function anymore.

  His lips move closer and my heart stutters in my chest as I close my eyes.

  Disappointment hits hard when I feel his lips land on my forehead instead of my mouth.

  “Look at me,” he whispers. “I won't hurt you.”

  I've heard those words before...by the one person who swore they never would.

  “You don't know that, Jackson. You can't promise me something like that.”

  His eyes bore into mine before he hugs me again. “You're right. I can't make that promise.” He holds my chin between his thumb and his fingers. “But I can promise you that I will never intentionally hurt you. No matter what happens between us, just know that I'll always have your best interest at heart.”

  I stay silent taking in his words, wanting so badly to believe them. I'm so lost in my own thoughts, I almost don't register when he stands up and walks over to his closet.

  “Here,” Jackson says. He hands me a clean white t-shirt and a pair of flannel boxers. “Change into these. You'll be more comfortable.”

  I look down at my skin tight jeans and my constricting leopard print tank top and give him a smile. “Thanks.”

  He returns my smile before he closes the door behind him.

  After I change he walks back into his bedroom, this time; carrying a mug. I look down in confusion when I see its contents.

  “Hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream?” I question. It's not that I'm not grateful for it, I'm just curious; especially because I never asked for it.

  He looks uneasy before he clears his throat and sits on the bed beside me.

  “I used to make it for Lilly whenever she was upset.” He shrugs. “It was her favorite. It always made her feel better.”

  I'm touched that he's sharing this part of himself with me.

  I take a sip of the chocolate goodness before putting the mug down on the nightstand beside the bed.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for his hand. His hand dwarfs mine in size, but I lay it on top of mine anyway and begin tracing the lines of his palm.

  He looks away but continues talking. “My mom was a heroin addict. We barely even survived living in that trailer on her check from government assistance. She made a lot of wrong choices due to her addiction, one of them including the men she brought home.” He swallows. “One night, when I was 11, I came home late. I was out playing ball in the park with my friends and lost track of time. My mother was passed out on the couch. She didn't hear Lilly's screams, but I did.”

  I grip his hand tighter, hoping to give him the strength to continue. He turns his head and finally looks at me. “I ran into her bedroom and saw my mother's poor excuse for a one night stand with his pants around his ankles while he was standing over her bed.”

  “Oh my god.” My hand flies to my mouth. “Please tell me he didn't.”

  He shakes his head. “He didn't. With strength I didn't even know I possessed, I charged at him. I threw him right out the door and beat the shit out of him. Then I told him if I ever saw his face again I would finish him. When I went back into Lilly's room, she was shaking and refused to speak. Finally, after an hour or so had passed, she told me she was thirsty. It was around Christmas time and we didn't have much.”

  I look at the mug. “But you had hot chocolate, cinnamon, and whipped cream,” I finish for him.

  He nods. “Yeah. After that day, it became her favorite. We were all each other had and I promised her that I would always protect her. In addition to taking up mixed martial arts, I slept on the floor in her bedroom at night, every night.” He pauses. “Well, up until my mom died and she didn't have to fear her dirtbag boyfriends anymore.”

  I rest my head against his shoulder, tears prickling my eyes for all that he's endured. “You were an amazing big brother.”

  “I tried to be. I wanted to be. She deserved that. She was an amazing person. She was brilliant, sweet, compassionate- everything that was right in the world. She was going places. She got into Harvard, she wanted to make a difference.” He draws in a shaky breath. “I didn't tell her often, but I was so proud of her.”

  I grab his hand tighter, mustering up the courage to ask the question that I don't want to ask, but I have to. “What happened to her, Jackson?”

  He leans back against the headboard, his face portraying so much grief and agony, I'm about to tell him that he doesn't have to answer.

  “She was murdered.”

  His words hang in the silence between us.

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