Dad just shook his head. “You don’t mean that, Aston.”
“I do.” With everything inside of me, I meant it.
He sighed and swallowed down his urge to argue. Dad always tried to make his point across, but with me…he always let me have the final say. I was sure I knew what went on inside his head every time he felt frustrated by me. He thought of that dark room, of me on my knees, pleading for him not to hurt me. I saw that flash of pain in his eyes from time to time. I’d scarred him, while he had healed me and given me a chance at life.
We let the matter drop and ate in silence. After dinner, Elise pulled me into the hallway and looked at me gravely. “Thank you,” she whispered, taking my hand softly.
“For what?” I whispered back.
She smiled. “Deck.”
My face remained neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her other hand shot up, and she stroked my cheek. There was nothing sibling-like about her touch, and I knew what she was seeking, but there was no way in hell I could give in to that want and risk losing everything.
Still. I let her touch me. I didn’t let her know it affected me, but…I let her touch me.
“I know why you did it,” she continued, “and I will never speak a word of it to anyone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeated slowly.
Her eyes travelled to my lips, and her face warmed. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, and I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
Leaning into her, I firmly said, “If anyone ever touches you like that again without your permission, I’ll kill them next time.”
She smiled again. “You don’t need to worry.”
“You think I’m joking, don’t you?”
Her lips wavered. “I hope you are.”
I laughed dryly. “I wish I was, but no. I’ll beat him until he’s not moving anymore, and that’s the fucking truth.”
Just as I said that, Dad’s footsteps sounded out from behind us. She dropped her hand from mine and stepped back, regaining that safe distance between us as Dad squeezed his way past us, Adrian following closely behind. “Get out of the goddamn halls,” he barked, tugging on her ponytail. “There’s an entire house you can take up the next time you decide to block it.”
She nodded at him, but her eyes remained on mine. “There won’t be a next time, Dad.”
I knew who she was really talking to.
7
Aston
Logic and numbers told me that if shit went down again, and there was more than one man involved, I’d need to better my chances fighting them. So I went to the fitness gym at school.
My real father was a piece of shit who deserved to be dead, but he was a massive guy¸ and I ended up with the same body type. I was already big by seventeen, had a body that was far beyond my years, but lifting weights gave me an edge that separated me from most of the other guys.
I put my body through hell, and every time I wanted to give up halfway through, all I had to think about was Elise being taken advantage of. Because a girl that looked as irresistible as her was bound to attract unwanted attention, especially from the small-town teenage hicks in Montley.
I spent that year bulking. I wanted my final year at high school to be by her side, warding off anyone that thought they could approach her. By eighteen, I was huge. I had muscles on top of muscles, and nobody wanted to be in my way. The guys at the gym always whistled in awe when I looked at myself in the floor to ceiling mirrors. They sought my advice, and I spent more time helping them lift than actually lifting myself.
I liked the people at the gym. They didn’t ask personal questions. They were all about one thing when they were surrounded by weights and cardio machines: fitness. They were like me in ways. They sought structure and discipline, and there was something about that environment that calmed me. I didn’t have my back up like I did in other social situations. Here, I relaxed and made friendly acquaintances. It was my haven outside of Elise.
One day, Javier, one of the friends I’d made there, approached me. “You’re a fucking machine, Aston.”
I smirked. “That’s the plan.”
“Well, chicks dig machines. I’ve been asked to introduce you to someone.”
“Who?” I asked, barely hiding my disinterest.
“Tanya over there by the cardio machines.”
I glanced over my shoulder and at a petite brunette, pressing the buttons on a treadmill, pretending to be distracted. But she looked up at me every few moments, her face turning pink when our eyes met.
“She’s Brazilian, and she’s hot, don’t you think?” Javier asked, nudging my shoulder.