Bait(28)

So close to my sleeping boy. My sleeping boy. Mine.

Because it was my fucking girlfriend who died in that fucking fire. My fucking life that burnt up with her.

There’s enough tension for a whole fucking lifetime in my wrist as I jerk my cock and force myself back to happier moments from this evening.

So many pleasures to sample and not nearly enough time. I didn’t taste her, didn’t pin her legs high and feast on that wet cunt of hers until she screamed. I didn’t get to see the whites of her eyes as I fucked her face to face. Didn’t feel her moans against my lips. Didn’t stretch that tight little asshole until she begged me to stop for real.

Fuck.

I’m out of the shower just as soon as I’ve shot my load.

It takes everything not to reactivate my profile and thank her for a good time. I’m tense in bed and thinking of her, of her sweet sad soul and the train wreck of baggage she carries on her shoulders as the whole damn world plays ignorant.

Just like they do with me.

She’s a fractured mirror reflecting my own fucking brokenness.

A beautiful demon in the darkness whispering my name.

Her tragedy could eat me up and hold me tight, but mine…

Mine could bury her alive.

Burn her alive.

Light is breaking on the horizon outside, but it’s fading on the glorious distraction I’ve been living these past few weeks.

I know how the story ends if two fucked up souls play at life together. I know how the story ends when two people’s demons hold hands.

Abigail Rachel Summers is everything I need, all at once.

And absolutely nothing I should ever do again.





It’s bright when I open my eyes; so much for hearing the alarm.

It takes me a moment to register I’m not alone. The tiny body next to me is barely a lump under the covers. His hair is a dark little nest on the pillow.

He’s pretending to be asleep. He’d have fooled me if I hadn’t seen the twitch of his head.

“Morning, bud,” I greet, and scoop the lad under my forearm. He’s smiling as he presses to my chest, giggling silently as I tickle him under the arms and pretend to be a monster for the second time in recent hours.

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in bed long enough for him to join me. I’d forgotten how good it felt to have his tiny body so snug against mine.

Tiny fingers trace the ink on my chest then rise to beep my nose. I know this game.

“Want some breakfast?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

I wish he’d just find the words to tell me what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. What he wants from me.

I take a chance on it, wrapping him in arms that could crush him to dust but would do anything to protect him. It’s the right call. Little arms wrap around my neck and squeeze right back. My fingers tickle his scalp and I breathe in the smell of his sea monster shampoo.

“I love you,” I tell him, and I’d give anything in the world to hear it back.

What I get instead is another beep on the nose.

That’ll have to do for now.

I know the twinkle in his eyes when I ruffle his hair. I know he’s ready to get up when he kicks the covers up in the air to make a fort out of them.

“Ready for breakfast now?” I ask, and he nods.

I grab a t-shirt and tug a pair of jeans on over my boxers while he looks at the picture of himself on my bedside table. He’s so small in that picture, barely more than twelve months old.

I wonder how far his memory goes back. I wonder how much of the horrible shit that went down last year really managed to go right over his head.

Not enough, that’s for sure.

I check him for wetness before I scoop him up and head downstairs. There’s nothing there. It’s a good sign.

A good sign things are finally getting better.

They won’t be getting better for Serena as I catch her eyes across the kitchen. She’s already drinking coffee, the morning news blaring in the background.

I put Cameron in his chair and hold up cereal boxes for him to point to. I keep the smile on my face even though I’m fucking seething.

“Morning,” she says. “Good night?”

I don’t even grace her with an answer. I give Cameron the TV remote and pour his cereal with a smile, and then I gesture her to the living room, heading through and leaving the door open just a crack.

She takes the cue.

My voice is a raging fucking hiss as I jab a finger at the drinks cabinet.

“One fucking night, Serena. I’m out one fucking night and you let Jake come calling. What the fuck does he want with my fucking house?”

Her eyes are fiercer than I expected. “I invited him.”

It’s like a slap in the face, sobering enough that I take a step back. “You invited him? Here? Why the fuck would you invite him here?”