Ask Me Why(17)

Is it fucked up that I’m picturing her mouth stuffed full of my— I slam a concrete wall down on that twisted path. Yup, most definitely screwed up. I keep my ogling above the waist, as an extra precaution. Braelyn isn’t wearing any makeup other than some glossy shit on her lips. Her blonde hair is twisted in a loose braid. I want to unravel the golden waves and watch them spill over my hands.

What the actual hell is happening to me? Usually my dick gets hard for high heels and short skirts and seductive curves on display. This woman is the opposite of the chicks I usually fuck. Apparently the desperation is messing with my standards. Or my cock is confused from the arousing banter. Either way, I need to get laid. I’ll take whatever at this point, except her.

“Problem?” The question drags my eyes up to hers.

I work my jaw back and forth. “Not at all.”

“I can’t begin to comprehend why you’re looking at me like that.”

“Then why bother asking?”

She wrinkles her pert nose. “Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not your type. Desperate and needy clashes with this outfit.”

I bark out a sharp laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, sugar. I prefer my women classy and refined and down to fuck wherever.”

“Is that a realistic combination?”

“Haven’t you heard of a lady on the streets and a freak in the sheets?”

Braelyn gawks at me. “You’re worse than I thought.”

I lick my bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “Know what you need? A good, long fuck.”

She makes a choking sound. “Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. The endorphin release will set you straight.”

“Oh, that’s really interesting.” She makes the sound of a buzzer. “Turns out it’s actually not. That’ll be a hard pass from me. Thanks anyway.”

I knock on the counter beside me, the sound cracking through our tension. “Oh, I wasn’t volunteering. Just a suggestion to keep in mind. Might make you less… bitchy.”

Her eyes narrow into green slits. “You’re such a pig.”

I hike up a shoulder. “Oh, yeah? You stink like grief and sorrow.”

Her face crumples, and I almost regret my words. But she’s more prepared this time around.

“You’re rotten to the core. I have no idea how you managed to conceive such a sweet child.” Her voice is dripping with venom, and I hope she bites. My muscles flex and I can barely hold off. From what, I’m not certain. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, my eyes greedily tracking the movements. I need to get the fuck out of here before actual damage is done.

“Ollie,” I bellow. “We’re leaving.”

“About damn time,” Braelyn mumbles.

I point at her. “If it wasn’t for him, you’d never see me again.”

“If only I could be so lucky.” She spits the words.

I spin on my heel and stomp away from her fortress. I’ll gladly wait for Ollie outside.

Her giggle grates across my frying nerves. “I hope your big head fits through the door.”

I give her the finger without a backwards glance.





Braelyn



Sob



An eerie chill creeps up my spine when the wind howls. A misty fog blocks the path and impairs my sight, but I know the way. The sound of twigs snapping close by sends me into a tailspin. When I whip around, nothing is there. Damn, I’m losing my shit. I comb through my hair and take a deep breath. As if cemeteries aren’t spooky enough on their own.

I hustle down the precisely measured row. Desperation is chasing me, the need to erase this distance gaining urgency. Thankfully the plot is easy to find. The familiar carved letters calm my erratic pulse. This is all that remains. Moisture immediately clouds my vision.

Devon’s tall headstone is stark against the dusk backdrop. I make quick work of clearing away the leaves and weeds covering the surface. It’s been several months since I’ve dug up the strength to visit. Guilt sinks into my bones, and I collapse in the dewy grass.

My back thumps against the unforgiving stone. I wrap an arm around my knees, seeking comfort in the empty embrace. The cold seeps in. I welcome the numbness. That puts us on even ground. I take a cautious look around me. The graveyard appears abandoned, without a soul in sight. At least from what I can see through the haze. A ball of lava clogs my throat. I rub at the lump, but it only grows. Dammit.

“Hey, Dev,” I begin. “Sorry I haven’t been by lately.”

A flash of lightning streaks through the clouds. Well, that’s fitting. Might as well add possible electrocution to my list.

“It doesn’t get any easier to visit. Maybe it’s even harder. Ripping at my stitches, you know? But I’ll never stop, not entirely. I couldn’t do that to you.”

I rake my fingers through the overgrown sod covering his grave. The lush turf is flat and settled, deep roots growing stronger with each passing day. Devon has been buried long enough that there’s no evidence everything was once torn apart.

“It’s been almost three years. Crazy, huh? I’m losing faith that things will return to some semblance of normalcy. Doctor Thair said I don’t need regular sessions anymore. She recommends maintenance appointments for when I’m feeling down. Not bad, right? Almost like I’m cured. Maybe the anniversary of your death has me sinking lower than usual.” My laugh is brittle. “But I’ll never be that carefree girl again. How could I, Dev?”