Broken Knight (All Saints High, #2)(87)

“Hey.”

I heard his voice. Soft. So soft all of a sudden. But I couldn’t shake what he had said about having a kid, about not wearing a condom—or how he’d just shoved his dick into my mouth without warning and basically fucked my head.

“Moonshine.” His hand clasped my shoulder.

I held back from wailing. This was not the right time to cry, not when he was drowning in troubles. Then again—was I really that girl? The one who let something like that slide?

“What’s up?” He lowered himself to me, and I opened my eyes. He looked like a wreck. On the plus side, he also looked completely sober.

“I didn’t like it,” I whispered.

He took my hand and began to lather my arm in soap, up and down. He moved on to my other arm, his lips pursed.

“I thought you had an orgasm. I thought it was good for you,” he said boyishly, his ears pinking to a deep shade of rose. “Well, fuck. I’m sorry.”

“I did like it. But I didn’t like the way we did it. You were angry. You didn’t listen to me when I asked you to put on a condom. And that thing in the end…”

He stopped touching me and looked up. The water was pounding on us, like that time when he’d saved me on my bike. The memory soothed my aching heart. Then I remembered the Knight I was talking to wasn’t the same boy who’d risked his life for me. That boy wasn’t an addict.

“I’m sorry about the condom. That was… God, it was such a dick move. Shit.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He sat down in front of me, burying his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. There was something so vulnerable about seeing him—big and athletic and formidable—naked. I shamefully loved and rightfully hated this view of Knight—fragile and imperious at the same time.

“I get like that when I’m drunk. Really mean. I’m so sorry…so sorry…”

I crawled into his embrace, prying his hands from his face. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were red.

“I’ll never do it again. It was a fucked-up thing to do and a screwed-up thing to say. I didn’t mean anything by it. I know we can’t have a baby now. And trust me, I’m totally on board with that. We’ll have lots of babies. When we’re old and shit.”

My heart stirred wildly behind my ribs. I tried to ignore it.

“About that other thing…” I cleared my throat.

“What other thing?”

“When you put your dick in my mouth, Knight.”

“You asked me.” He frowned, confused. “You said you wanted it there.”

“What?”

“You signed it to me, Luna. You signed I want this dick in my mouth. I just assumed you meant literally, because you dropped to your knees, looked at it, and licked your lips.”

Oh my God.

I’d signed it. I had. Jesus Christ. Tears began to pool in my eyes. Relieved tears, with a dash of horror for believing, even for one moment, that Knight could ever do something so cruel to me. I knew his normal self never would. Hell, I’d let him sleep in the same bed as me since we were kids. But this was different. He was different now. But nonetheless, he’d done it because he thought I was into it and ready for it.

Now it was my time to lather his gorgeous, Greek god body with soap. I kept my eyes on every organ I cleaned.

“Knight.”

“Yes?”

“Do you care for me?”

I hated to play that card when his mother was dying, but I had to. I’d made a promise to her, and I was going to fulfill the hell out of it.

He stared at me seriously, his thick brows furrowed. “More than anyone in the world, save for one person. You two are a tie,” he said.

My pulse began to thump in the back of my throat. “In that case, I need you to do something for me.”

“A-ny-thing,” he enunciated, in the same way I’d told Rosie I would do anything for her.

“You need to stop drinking. Stop with the pills. I saw you taking them at the diner when I went to the bathroom and you thought I wasn’t looking. And I know that wasn’t a one-off. I mean it, Knight. I can handle anything life throws at us. But not this. You need to stay the same Knight I…” I fell in love with. “…I know and care for.”

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I loved him, and not because of my ego or because I didn’t believe it. But because he was drunk. He was always drunk when we were together, and I wanted to say it for the first time when he was sober.

If he was ever going to be sober. I was seriously starting to doubt that.

He pulled away, staring at me blankly. He looked so tired, so miserable, I wanted to swallow the words back and just let him be.

“Vaughn talked to you?” He squinted.

“No.” Did Vaughn know we were together?

He got up, thoroughly soaped. “I don’t know what to say. I drink occasionally. Who doesn’t?”

“Many people.” I stood up, too. “Me, for instance.”

“As far as I recall, you lost your virginity to someone while completely smashed. I kept mine. For you. So maybe you really shouldn’t be drinking. Me, I’m no lightweight. I can handle my shit pretty good.”

It was like a slap in the face, and he knew it. I took a step back, turning off the water and wrapping myself in a towel. I wasn’t that girl—the chick who was going to stick around in an abusive relationship, even if the guy was the love of my life. I’d seen firsthand what bad relationships could do to you. Valenciana, AKA mommy dearest, had bounced from one millionaire to the other. They’d all abused her—excluding my dad, of course.