Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,51
he was tossed in jail. Rike should have gotten a fucking medal. Instead, he got six months and probation, and wasn’t allowed near Scott for two years.”
The longest two years of our life. We did what they said—mostly because I wouldn’t risk Scott being moved to another county. We made it work. And by then, we were so close to aging out, freedom was almost something we could taste.
We rode it out, waited until we aged out and put it behind us, as much we could.
It’s hard to forget something that put scars on your soul and body.
“Maybe, Dad, you should find out why you’re judging someone before you decide to write them off,” she says softly.
“You haven’t given us a lot of reason to trust your judgement, Pey,” he counters.
“Enough,” Brody snaps. He glances between his sister and father, scowling. “We didn’t meet here to fight. Dad, do you think you could manage to get through dinner without judging every decision she makes? You don’t have to like it, but she’s not tied to the campaign, so it’s not hurting you and she’s happy. That does matter a little bit.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Turns to me, and forces a small smile. “So, aside from beating up abusers, what do you do with yourself, Rike?”
I eye him but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to find a way to trip me up. He looks curious and patient and hopeful. He’s throwing me a bone.
“I’m a songwriter,” I say, flashing a smile. “And I’m apprenticing with a local tattoo artist.”
Brody’s eyes widen and a smile twitches his lips. As her mother starts in on the problems with dating a degenerate, Brody shakes his head. “Good luck, man.”
Chapter 22: After
Never anyone's only.
She said that, drunk and sad and
I wanted to scream.
My first thought is yours. my smile and
Dreams and pleasure. I see you in every
sunrise and teardrop and birdsong.
Not my only.
Only my everything.
(Rike’s poems to Peyton)
He almost dumps me into the truck. His truck. “What are you even doing here?” I demand, and he slams the door in my face. I huff a sigh, twisting in my seat to stare at him as he climbs in the truck.
“What are you doing here?” I demand again, and he leans across the console, catching me by the back of the next and kissing me. It’s hot and hungry and forceful. There is no soft request; it’s a demand.
It always has been with him.
I bite his lip and his hand clenches in my hair, jerking just a little, riding a delicious line of pain, his tongue in my mouth, twisting and stroking.
“I should spank your ass for that shit. You can’t go there alone. They’re horrible for you. Promise me, Peyton?”
He never uses my full name, and it shocks me enough that I nod. He sighs, and sits back. “I’m not fucking you in my truck in your parent’s driveway. I love you too much for that. So put your seatbelt on and let’s go, because I do need to fuck you. Soon.”
Why the hell does that blunt, crude admission turn me on so fucking much?
I pull on my seatbelt, and he squeals out of my parent’s driveway.
“You don’t like them,” I say after a few minutes.
His gaze turns to me, pure disbelief, and I swallow hard. “No fucking shit, Pey.”
He drives for about five minutes, and then jerks the truck off the road, onto a dirt road that serves as a driveway to an old, little used farm. “What are we doing?” I ask, nervously.
“Your brother’s house is thirty minutes from here, and my hotel is farther than that. And I can’t wait that long to fuck you,” he says matter-of-factly, stopping the truck. He glances at me, the look hot and invasive. “You look fucking amazing, Fish.”
Then he’s out of the truck and I have just a few seconds to decide. If this is what I want. If Rike is who I want. Then the door pops open, and his hands are on my legs, pulling me around to face him. He nudges them open and settles against me, hugging me. His shoulders relax as he clings to me. “I’ve missed you, Fish. So fucking much.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Except… “I miss you too,” I confess quietly. The truth. How can I miss someone I barely know, someone who shouldn’t matter to me? But should or not, he does.
He matters so much.
Rike looks up at me,