NathanielA coma.The doctor is telling us that Kingsley is in a vegetative state. He’s saying things about swelling in the brain due to the impact and that he might wake up in the next few days, weeks, or never.This hotshot surgeon spent hours working on my friend with his people, and yet he still couldn’t bring him back.He was in the operating room for hours, just to tell us that King might or might not wake up. I don’t miss the fake sympathy or his attempts not to give hope.But even if I grab and shake him, then punch him in the face, it won’t bring King back, and it sure as fuck won’t serve any purpose. Except for maybe getting rid of some of my pent-up frustration.Gwyneth listens to the doctor’s words with her lips slightly parted. They’re lifeless and pale, like the rest of her face. She clinks the nails of her thumbs and forefingers together in a frantic, almost manic type of way. It’s a nervous habit she’s had since she was a kid—since she learned the truth about her mothe
“It’s not true. Tell me it’s not true, Nate.”I should reprimand her for not calling me Uncle like I usually do, but this is neither the time nor the place.“Denial won’t help you. The sooner you accept reality, the faster you can deal with it.”“No.” She grits her teeth, then lets out another haunted, “No…”“Let go, Gwyneth.” I try to soften my tone, as much as I’m able to, but it still comes out firm. Like an order.She shakes her head again, but it’s meek, weak, just like she is beneath my touch. Until now, I’ve never noticed how small she actually is compared to me.How fragile.Actually, I did once. When she was pressed up against me with her lips on mine.But I shouldn’t be thinking about that. I shouldn’t be thinking about how small my best friend’s daughter is or how she feels in my hold when we’re in front of his hospital room.A muscle clenches in my jaw and I loosen my hold on her shoulders, starting to step away from her.I’m unprepared for what she does, though.Completel
NathanielGwyneth falls asleep.After so much struggle and standing for hours in front of Kingsley’s room, she lost the physical battle and slumped over on one of the chairs in the waiting area.I told her that she could go home, but she vehemently shook her head, pulled her knees to her chest, and closed her eyes.Which is why she’s about to fall forward.I place a finger on her forehead and push her back so she doesn’t hit the ground. It’s light contact, only a damn finger, and yet it feels as if my skin has caught fire and the flames are now extending to the rest of my body.In hindsight, I shouldn’t have let her hug me. Or I should’ve pushed her away sooner. Because now, even a mere touch brings back memories of her body pressed up against my chest.Her slender body that I can’t stop thinking about how small it is compared to mine.I clench my fist and close my eyes to chase away the haze. It doesn’t work. Because even though she’s out of view, her scent clings to me as stubbornly
“We’ll represent Gwyneth and keep things as they are.”“Even if you personally take the case, there’s no way Susan will come out of this empty-handed. Gwyneth can’t touch her inheritance or trust fund until she’s twenty-one. That’s a whole year for Susan to demand the house and shares of the firm. She’ll have a leg to stand on, too, since Kingsley made his father’s will null and void. Because he used his father’s money for Weaver & Shaw’s capital, she can sue for her husband’s shares that Kingsley inherited. Not to mention that she’ll be up against a girl who can’t touch her money yet. And before you suggest it, yes, we can stall in court, but considering all of Susan and Kingsley’s legal battles in the past, I say Gwyneth doesn’t stand a chance. She doesn’t have her father’s legal experience, revenge spirit, or ruthlessness. She’ll be eaten alive by Susan.”I want to disagree, but I can’t. Aspen is right. Kingsley’s lawsuits against Susan were fueled by pure spite. He hated her and w
GwynethWhen I was a kid, I had a problem learning words. I don’t know why. I have a high IQ, and I can figure out my way around things, but memorizing words was a bit difficult.The professionals my dad took me to thought I had some form of dyslexia, but it’s not like I couldn’t read or recognize words. It’s not that they all appeared the same. They just appeared alive.You know that feeling when you’re reading something and it nearly jumps off the page at you? For me, it was literal, and that’s exactly how it felt. As if the words were coming after me.Turns out, I didn’t have a problem with all the words. Just the negative ones. The words that make my skin itchy and my vision turn hazy. The words that I felt instead of only reading them.Anxietymade my skin crawl and my nose tingle.Cruelturned my cheeks hot and my body tight with the need to defend the one who was subjugated to it.Fearmade my teeth clench and my heart shrink in anticipation for what was to come.Saderased my smil
I can’t go back to the house we called ours and pick up nonexistent pieces of myself.How can I when everything in there bears witness to how well and hard he raised me and how much he sacrificed himself for me?I didn’t even consider moving out after high school. People my age want to get away from their parents, but I didn’t. It’s where home is.A sudden shiver jolts me upright when the jacket that’s been covering me falls down my arms and to my lap.My fingers trace the material and I’m surprised they don’t catch fire. It doesn’t matter that I don’t remember him putting it on me, or how I even ended up lying in the chair. The smell gives it away. A little bit spicy and woodsy with an undertone of musk, but it’s still strong and manly and so much like him.The man I hugged and whose chest I cried into.The man whose shirt I probably messed up.He didn’t touch me back, didn’t console me, but having him there, even immobile, was enough for me.He still had his body tight and rigid lik
NathanielNecessity.I’ve never liked that word. It’s because of necessity that my brother decided to leave the country, and that got him killed.It’s because of necessity that people vote for the likes of my father to represent them in spite of the fact that he only cares about himself.In a way, necessity is the root of all evil. Decisions based on it are a bit impulsive and almost always have dire consequences down the line. Ones that could be dangerous, lethal even.Of all people, I’m well aware of the dangerous repercussions of hasty actions. I never decide anything unless I have a 360-degree view of the entire situation as well as all of its possible results. This is the first time I’ve taken a step into territory that hasn’t been carefully plotted. It’s like walking through a minefield with a blindfold on.But just like earlier, I don’t think about the possible repercussions. I shove them to the back of my mind and focus on the now. On the present and its own sets of cause and
Her eyes spark in a myriad of blue, gray, and green. Bright fucking green that I thought wouldn’t make an appearance again after King’s accident.I hate the way she looks at me. I fucking loathe it.Because it’s not just a gaze, it’s not mere eye contact. It’s words and phrases I don’t want to decipher.I let her go and she staggers a little, as if she’s been floating on air and her feet are finally touching the ground. It’s where she’s supposed to always be—on the ground—not in the clouds she sometimes ascends to.But even though I’m not touching her anymore, she’s still touching a part of me. My jacket is held snugly to her chest as if it’s some sort of armor—one she won’t let go of.And I need to stop thinking about what that jacket is touching, because that’s just fucked up.“It’s not that I want to marry you.”A swallow, a clink of nails, a slight jump in her shoulders. I’ve always hated how expressive she is but that she can still hide more than she shows.“Then why did you say
He’s a coward.Anger rises in me again, and I reach my drink and take it to my lips.I’m enjoying it when I see Charles walk up to me. He’s told me he’d be working with his team until late on a small gathering they’re throwing the next day for people of the trade. I wave at him, and he comes to my table with a determined expression, and long strides like he knows what he’s looking for. Who he’s looking for.My gut clenches. Something isn’t right.Was Dan an ass to him too, on the way back? Did Dan say anything bad about Whitney?Or did a bastard like me do something bad to Whitney?Like fuck her, again and again? I feel color draining from my face, and when Charles gets on the table with a disappointed look on his face, I already know it.“You jerk! I trusted you all those years. My daughter, really?” Charles says, flushed.My throat is dry and tight.Somehow he found out, and denying it will only make him angrier.Guilt crawls its way into my chest, and it’s hard to breathe. How can I
Maddox“And this is where guests and locals come for drinks and music,” I say, gesturing as we emerge into the club. I see quite a few more patrons than the past few weeks, which shows me that Whitney’s efforts have worked. We’ve had more visitors and increased sales. Always a plus.I’d be a lot happier if it weren’t for the company.My body is still stiff, as I had to go through an entire dinner with Dan Walters who happens to be almost as annoying as he is misogynistic. I guess it’s been a while since I last sat through a meal with the guy. We’re not friends, and I’ve met him in social events and basically small talked.I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and say maybe the reason why he’s been talking about women nonstop and not under the best light is because of his divorce. Maybe he’s broken, and feels more powerful if he’s bragging about all the pussy he’s getting.But the cynical part of me knows better.This guy is a certified douchebag, and I hope Astrid can get a good
WhitneyI strideinto the hotel lobby.Right now, Dan Walters the politician should be having dinner with Maddox. Maybe dinner is already over and they’re touring the hotel. Astrid is there in the club, ready to snap a couple of pictures as planned, and then send it to a gossip columnist friend of ours.If this was another client, I wouldn’t be here. My presence isn’t required since Astrid is here, as per her text.But I am shamelessly using every excuse in the book to be around Maddox, to see him more often, to spend more time with him.Ever since our ax throwing date, I can’t stop thinking about how far we’ve come. From him avoiding me for years to hinting about having children together one day. Who would have thought?A ball of joy rolls inside me, like a bowling ball running down the lane. Striking out.I add a little bit more pep to my step, and my goal is to pass by the restaurant and see them without introducing myself. But before I make it there, I almost bump into them, with b
Maddox“Your turn,”she says, handing me the ax.I hold the weight of the tool, and clasp it. This is the first time visiting an ax throwing joint, and if at first the idea seemed silly at best, now I’m actually enjoying myself. Then again, why wouldn’t I? For the past few days, we’ve been together non-stop, or as much as our schedules allow.Still, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.I shoot the damn thing at the target, hitting it right at buzz’s eye. She squeals, cheering me on, then takes a sip of her beer.She’s invited me here because she needed to come for an appearance and check out the place, take some pictures, then post about it later. So even though this should technically be work, it’s still relaxing. At least, to me.Besides, I get to see how she fills those skintight jeans and plaid shirt she’s wearing. I’ve seen how a couple of men looked at her, and wanted to punch each one.Though I know she’s mine.Mine forever.A warm glow flows through me, spreading into my veins. Wh
“Maybe,” Maddox says, then clears his throat. “I hate to cut this short, but I have some phone calls I need to make soon.”“Oh, sure, no problem,” Dad says, then stands. We’ll leave you to it.”I hold the arms of the chair and am about to surge to my feet, when his gaze connects with mine and pins me to the spot.“I still have a question for you, Whitney,” Maddox says. “About the posting you’ll do later.”“Sure,” I say, and plop down on the chair again.Dad leaves and closes the door behind him.Quietly, Maddox stands and walks up to the door, and locks it. “You’re upset,” he says, picking a chair next to mine and sitting.I cross my legs, then uncross them and cross them again. “What? No,” I say in a hissy voice that betrays my words. I’m upset, and also embarrassed for being upset about him not acknowledging he’s seeing someone to my father. And maybe a tad jealous. What if Dad really tries to find him a date? My heart lurches. The idea of him with another woman gives me instant aci
“There you are,” my dad says, walking up to us, bursting that bubble.I withdraw as if I’ve been burned.“Hey, Dad,” I say in an extra chipper voice. “What’s up?”“Can we all meet at the conference room for a quick meeting? I have some news to share.”I have some too, I say inwardly.I slept with your best friend and can’t wait to do it again.A twinge of guilt twists at my heart, like the sharp end of a new blade. My dad doesn’t deserve to be hurt in all this, but would his hurt last? Besides the immediate surprise, would he really put up a long lasting fight against our relationship? I doubt it.Dad isn’t the typical father.He tends to be more open minded than most. Growing up, I always kept a channel of communication open with him. I confided in him about tiffs with friends, dates gone wrong, and when things started to happen for me as a digital influencer, he was my biggest cheerleader. He encouraged me and my dreams.The thoughts keep me busy as the three of us walk through the h
Whitney“How’s everything?”I ask the table of six influencers who were carefully curated for this lunch. Two of them, Rick and Ashley, are successful foodies and post about restaurants and the food scene in Texas. Then there’s Antoine and Ava, Claire and Kendall. Hashtag all-stars.“Oh, great. I’ve never been to this place,” Ava says, tossing her long brown hair to the side.“I have to say… I’m not a big fan of hotel restaurants in general,” Rick says, with his posh British accent. “But this one has surprised me so far.”“Excellent,” I say. “If you need anything, just let me know.,” I say, then turn around and walk away from their table.A thread of excitement works its way up my spine. I’m usually invested in my clients, as I love what I do. I love being able to highlight people’s talents or products and help them increase their visibility and profit. This time, though, I’m even more invested.Because of Maddox.I sigh.Two days ago, we had the most amazing date, and sex afterwards.
MaddoxI embraceher tightly against me, then pull the sheet over us. Our bodies are entangled, and she’s resting her head on my shoulder, her hand hovering on my chest and making little invisible patterns around my nipples.Her phone buzzes at the distance, but she doesn’t move an inch.“Do you need to get that?”“No. It’s Astrid probably reminding me of a place I need stop by later,” she says, and kisses my shoulder. A small gesture that only enhances this amplified intimate post-sex bliss. “Or asking where I’ve been.”I kiss the top of her head, and tendrils of relief course through me. I don’t want to let her go. Is it strange that now I get what she meant by saying she wanted to make the most of our time together? It’s not enough. Feels like whatever time I have with her, it’ll never be enough. Unless—She hums, the sweet sound yanking me from my thoughts. “I don’t think I can move anytime soon, anyway.”Pride swells in my chest, my male ego nicely massaged. I don’t want to move e
He gets the hint and plants kisses down my body, on my stomach, he nips my hips, then drags his mouth shamelessly between my thighs, and the second he breathes over my sex, I moan, already knowing what’s to come—me. Pretty soon.With a masterful swish of his tongue, he tastes me, exploring every inch of me with an eagerness that causes me to shudder in response. This time, he’s even more eager than he was at the restaurant. It’s like the more he tastes, the hungrier he gets.“Yes,” I hiss.He continues his teasing exploration, relentless, until tendrils of pleasure swirl through me, and I let go. Pleasure rockets through me, and I call out his name in a long winded moan, my limbs sweaty, my heartbeat frantic. Damn.I’m still dazed when he rises from between my legs, his body covering mine, the warm intensity in his eyes quickly re-energizing whatever sexual fuel I thought I was emptied of a second ago.“God. You’re stunning,” he says, and there’s a vulnerability in his voice that’s al