Echo(25)

I made it up to the next level, only to be shocked by the state of it. Dim lights flickered along the corridor, highlighting the dust bunnies that had made this level home. While every other area of the house was immaculate, this one lay untouched. One corner of the wallpaper hung in tatters while several burnt out lights stood out like sore thumbs.

I tiptoed down the hall, wrapping my robe around me tightly. Even the air up here was cooler too. I jiggled the first doorknob I came to, only to be met with the resistance of a lock. The knob was an old-fashioned type that appeared to take some sort of skeleton key.

I found it odd but continued on my way, only to be met with the same resistance at every door. But at the end of the hall, a sliver of light spilled into the hallway, giving me hope my venture wouldn’t be completely fruitless.

I moved closer, holding my breath as I placed my hand on the wood, preparing to open it further. But before I could, I caught a glimpse of movement inside.

Ryland was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a box in his lap as he sorted through the contents. His back was facing the door, and I couldn’t make out what he was looking at when he pulled something from the box. Whatever it was, he stared at it for a long time. The tension in his body was obvious, and instinctively I knew this was something he wouldn’t want me seeing.

My eyes wandered around the room, taking in whatever little details I could. Masculine colors dominated the bed and the few random items of clothing that were strewn about. It was odd that it was so messy and looked so lived in. It wasn’t Ryland’s room, but it was definitely a man’s room. There were stacks of CD’s on the dresser covered in at least an inch of dust. A signed poster from a rock band hung from the wall, and there was a PlayStation and about a million games beneath it.

On the bedside table was a picture frame, and it was tilted just enough that it was out of my line of sight. I mentally debated whether I’d be able to reach through the door and turn it without alerting Ryland, but I chickened out at the last second.

He made a noise in his throat and I clapped a hand over my mouth. He closed up the box of contents he’d been looking at, and I was sure he was about to get up.

But instead, he slumped forward and braced his head in his hands.

It was this moment that something broke inside of me. What I witnessed was pure, undiluted pain. I hadn’t seen it before. He’d used his anger to hide it, the same way I’d seen Brayden often do. But this was so much worse. This told me something horrible happened to Ryland Bennett. And that’s how I knew I was royally fucked. Because I cared, and I shouldn’t have.

It became obvious I was no longer playing a game to save my brother. I was falling for the very man who’d coerced me into it.



***



The weight of the bed dipped when he laid down beside me. I quieted my breathing as I debated what I should do. I could pretend I was asleep. That I hadn’t witnessed what I just had. It was the smart thing to do. The thing my self-preservation was screaming at me to do. But it wasn’t what my heart wanted.

I rolled towards him and pressed my palm against his chest. It was bare, and even now I could feel the scars that marred it. They were thick and jagged, spanning the length of his rib cage up to his chest. I wondered what could have hurt him so badly and I hoped that someday, he would finally tell me.

“Did I wake you?” he asked softly.

I didn’t answer. I clutched his face in my hands and pulled his lips to mine. I needed him inside me. Why, I couldn’t explain. But I did.

Ryland didn’t protest when I climbed on top of him and unceremoniously pulled down his waistband until his cock sprang free. My fever quickly spread to him as his hands tugged at the silk camisole I was wearing, trying to free it from my body.

He ended up settling for pushing it around my waist as I sank down onto his erection, thrusting my entire body forward for his pleasure. His hands pawed at my breasts while I rocked against him, making him groan with every movement.

When his mouth wrapped around my nipple, I cried out his name. We both went wild with need, using each other for our own desperate pleasure… sucking and nipping, gripping and pulling. My tongue, my breasts, my hair… they all became objects of his desire while I clutched at his arms and kissed along his neck. It was the strangest combination of sex we’d ever had. Raw, animal fucking interspersed with sweet passion.

He would bite me and pull my hair, then soothe it with a gentle caress while he kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. When I finally hit the crescendo, he threaded his fingers through mine before allowing his own release a moment later.

Once it was all over, silence engulfed the room around us. I had no words, and apparently neither did he. He moved to pull out, but I couldn’t let him. Not yet. I needed him there, inside of me, connected to me… where he belonged.

Ryland groaned as he flipped me onto my back and began to pulse inside of me with the smallest of movements while he kissed every inch of my face. The room was still dark, save for the light of the moon that spilled in through the curtain. And in that darkness, I felt safe with him. Safe to let myself be vulnerable in his arms.

He spent the rest of the night inside of me, savoring every moment as if it were a gift. When he finally collapsed and pulled me into his arms, I asked him again the question that haunted me.

“Why me, Ryland?”

He kissed me on the forehead and gave me the same answer he had before as he pulled me closer. “It could only ever be you.”

The sun was coming up, but I wasn’t tired, and by the pattern of his breathing he wasn’t going to sleep either. Still, I hadn’t expected him to speak, so when he did, it surprised me.

“Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,” he admitted. “It was logical for me to choose you, but I didn’t think I wanted to. Everything changed when I saw you that day. When I learned everything there was to know about you.”

“You couldn’t possibly know everything about me,” I replied. “Only what you’ve seen on paper.”

“Try me,” he suggested.

“Okay…” I mulled this over for a moment before asking him the dumbest question I could think of. “How do I take my pancakes?”

“With peanut butter and powdered sugar. A disgusting combination by the way.”

I stared at him with my mouth gaping as I processed his words. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I told you.” He shrugged. “I know everything there is to know about you, Brighton.”

“That isn’t true,” I argued, desperate to prove my point. “You can’t know my thoughts. My feelings.”

He was quiet for a moment before he conceded. “I suppose there is one thing I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Whether you still think I’m a monster or not.”

His voice was distant again, but I didn’t let it affect me or my response. I’d been vulnerable enough with him already tonight, and this little game he was playing was a very real reminder of our circumstances.

“Does it matter what I think?” I turned the words back around on him.

There was a long pause before he answered. “It shouldn’t.”

I didn’t have time to think of a response because a moment later he kissed me on the cheek and rolled out of bed.

“I’m going for a run,” he said. “Get some sleep, Brighton.”



***



I sat out on the back porch, sipping a steaming cup of hot coffee. The fog from the bay rolled off the water and into the back yard, completing the eery feeling of this house.

Ryland had been gone for over two hours, and I couldn’t sleep without him. I didn’t bother venturing up to the third level again because it was too creepy to consider.

I didn’t understand how he could spend any time here alone. The sorrow that surrounded this house was deep and profound, and I wondered why Ryland would even own a place like this. The more I uncovered about him, the more I was convinced that something horrible happened in his past.

Before I could stop myself, I pulled up google on my phone. But instead of typing in Ryland’s name, I typed in something else that I was certain I never would again.

Lockhart Family in Chicago.

Article after article flooded the results, and I hovered over them with a hesitant finger. I didn’t want to see their faces. To see the entire family my brother had eradicated. But I couldn’t stop myself this time.

I skipped over the articles about the accident and moved to the biographical information. I focused my search efforts on the only remaining survivor, Michael Lockhart. The patriarch of the family and a well-loved businessman, he seemed for all intents and purposes to have the perfect life. His business was based out of Chicago, but it stated he was from California originally. It would have been a little too coincidental for my liking if it weren’t for the next piece of information I stumbled on.

I was surprised to learn his life had also been cut short not long after the accident.

Michael Lockhart, age 49 passed away from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The shocking news comes only six months after the death of his wife Katherine and children Jackson and Sophia in a tragic hit and run…

My stomach knotted and bile rose in my throat. I didn’t want to know anymore. I couldn’t.