Victoria Ashley - Slade

Hemy goes to reach for her waist, but I place my hand to his chest and push him back. “Back the fuck up, man.” My jaw steels as I look him in the eyes to let him know just how fucking serious I am. “Not a good time to fuck with me.”

Hemy gives me a hard look before backing away and finding the closest chick to start grinding on. We may push each other’s buttons, but we’ve figured out in the past just how far to push each other. We’re not going that fucking route again.

“Are you serious?” Aspen reaches for her purse and starts heading for the door. “I really cannot stand you. First you fuck me and then you throw me out like trash and now you ruin my fun. What the hell goes on in your twisted mind?” She moves faster as I fall into step behind her. “Huh? Huh? What?”

“None of your business. All you need to know is that you’re acting like a fucking fool. If you think Hemy will treat you any better than me, then you’re fucking mistaking. He will take you home and call over a buddy while they both fuck you until you’re sore. Then they will wake up and fuck you again. You will still end up alone in the end results. Hemy is not going to make things any better.”

She yanks the door open and rushes outside before turning around to yell at me. “So, what the hell does it matter? It seems that no one wants me. I’m not enough for anyone. Might as well just fuck them all then. I’m so tired of it. So tired of everyone treating me like I’m worth nothing but sex. What is so wrong with me?”

I watch as she turns around and stomps over to her friend’s car. She struggles with unlocking the door while trying to balance on her heels. “Don’t you fucking get in that car.” I stride over and yank the keys from her hand. “You’re not driving.”

She reaches for the keys, but I hold them up high so she can’t reach them. She slaps my chest and pushes me. “Give. Me. The. Keys.”

I shove them in my front pocket and push up against her until her body is pinned against the car. “No. You’re not driving. You’re fucking drunk.” I pin her hands above her head as she struggles against me. “And you are fucking enough. We’re all just fucking assholes. You need to know that.”

She stops struggling against me and looks me in the eyes. I see a hint of her there but I can tell that she’s pretty close to wasted. After a few seconds, she pulls one of her arms free and reaches into my pocket digging for the keys. I feel her hand brush over my cock and it instantly gets hard. “Give it to me, dammit.”

I yank her hand out of my pocket and pin it back against the car while roughly pushing my body against hers. “I said you’re not fucking driving. I’ll call us a cab. Try reaching for those keys again and I will fucking tie your ass up with my belt.”

“Why the fuck do you care? Now you want to be the good guy?” She laughs and pushes me away with her knee. I back off and give her the space she needs. She looks hurt now. I can’t deal with that. “Get off me. I’ll be over here.” She starts walking away. “In the bushes waiting.”

I don’t understand why, but I just want to get this woman home and in bed; in my fucking bed.

* * *

By the time we get back to the house, the full effects of the shots must have kicked in. She’s slurring her words and laughing at absolutely nothing at all. It almost makes me want to laugh, but I’m too fucking annoyed to enjoy this.

She laughs even harder as I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. “My ass is showing.” She starts tugging on her dress and squirming in my arms. “My thong! My thong!”

I slap her ass to stop her from moving. “No one cares. We’re the only ones here and I have already seen your ass.”

“Yeah. And a whole lot more.” She begins pulling up the hem of my shirt, revealing my back. She inserts the tips of her fingers under the waistband of my jeans, lightly caressing my ass. It kind of tickles until she digs her nails into my skin and scratches upward. “I want to see more of you. Strip.” She continues to scratch up my back, hard, causing me tip her back up.

I grab her ass cheeks in my hands and she instantly wraps her legs around my waist. She bites the skin on my neck playfully as she reaches for my belt. I start walking up the stairs toward my bedroom. “Take it off, dirty stripper boy,” she says teasingly. “I love your body. It’s so sexy. I just want to lick it and taste.”

As turned on as I am by her biting me and trying to strip me, I keep my fucking cool and toss her on my bed before walking out of my room and slamming the door behind me. I can’t let this shit happen for two reasons: number one, she’s drunk. Number two, it’s against my fucking rules.

Shit. I need a cold shower.

I take my time in the shower before quietly making my way up the stairs and to my room. When I walk in, I notice right away that she is sleeping. She’s managed to strip out of her dress and heels and is now wearing one my favorite shirts. I have to admit, I like seeing her in it. She looks beautiful; like a fucking angel.

I reach for a cigarette and light it while pacing around my room and watching her sleep. She looks so fucking peaceful lying there. A part of me wants to crawl into bed next to her and hold her in my fucking arms, but the smarter part of me is reminding me of what a horrible idea that is. So instead, I dig out my favorite picture of Helena, grab the chair and pull it next to the window and sit.

I stare at the picture until my eyes blur. I haven’t looked at this in almost a year. It hurts. It hurts so fucking badly that I can’t breathe . . . but there is something making it a little easier. Someone that makes me want it to be easier. That thought scares me.

I must sit there for about an hour, in the dark with my hands wrapped in my hair before I hear her mumbling and moving around. When I look up, I see that her eyes are opened and she’s staring right at me.

“Talk to me, dammit,” she says.

I feel an ache in my chest at the thought of talking about it. I’ve been holding in my emotions for so long; for too long. Maybe it’s time to get it out. She’ll be gone in a couple days anyways. Maybe this will help ease some shit in my head.

Here goes fucking nothing . . .

I jump to my feet, toss the picture on the bed and try to hold back the tears. “Her name was Helena Valentine. She was my fiancé and was carrying my child.”

Aspen

Oh. My. God.

I feel an ache in the pit of my stomach and a part of me feels like puking. Was. He said was. I blink a few times to focus my vision before reaching for the picture next to my feet and rubbing my thumb over it. It’s moist and the color is smeared. It wasn’t like that last time I saw it.

“I really don’t want to talk about this, but it is starting to take every fucking thing in me to keep my shit together. I do everything I can to keep my mind busy. It’s getting pretty fucking exhausting. I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

I look up at Slade and suck in a deep breath while taking in the pained look in his eyes. They’re wet and I can tell it is taking everything in him to not cry. I can’t even speak. I don’t want to. I’m afraid to hear more. I’m scared to hear what he went through.

It’s silent as he starts pacing. The silence is getting me so nervous that my stomach hurts. Not that the liquor helps any . . . but I feel totally sober now; wide awake and alert.

“I loved her with everything in me,” he finally says. “I would have never left her or my child. Don’t ever think that. It sends a flood of rage through my body. I may be a piece of shit now, but I wasn’t always this way.” He looks up toward the ceiling and rubs his hands over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. “We dated all throughout high school and I had known her since I was ten. She was my best fucking friend and I never had the courage to tell her how I felt. I went years holding it in, afraid that she would reject me and it would ruin our friendship.”

He stops pacing, pulls out a cigarette and lights it before continuing. “She meant more to me than that. I couldn’t lose her. I wouldn’t allow it. Our freshman year I watched her date numerous assholes that always broke her heart. She always came to me for comfort and I was always there to take care of her. I promised her I always would be and I keep my fucking promises. One night after some asshole put his hands on her, I kicked the shit out of him and told her I couldn’t take seeing her hurt anymore.”

He takes a long drag of his cigarette and looks out the window as if trying to picture it all in his head. His voice is starting to break and I can tell this is tearing him up inside. I hate this.

“I told her I loved her; that I was in love with her. She was shocked as hell when I told her. I still remember that look on her face before she leaned in and kissed me harder than I had ever been kissed in my whole life. It was as if she were desperate; as desperate as I was. Come to find out, she had been in love with me the whole time and she was afraid of the same thing I was. From that day on she was mine. I took care of her.” He turns to look at me. “And I never fucking hurt her. She was my life. I would have given my life for hers.”

He places his hand over his face and looks down at the ground. I can’t be sure, but I think I see tears falling. He puffs his cigarette and clenches his jaw. “If I could trade places with her I would, dammit. Fuck!”

He crouches down, resting his elbows on his knees with his face buried in his hands. “It should have been me. We were both in that fucking car. Not just her. Both of us, dammit!”

He starts shaking his head back and forth, hitting his head against the dresser behind him, as the tears come out steadily, dripping down his face and arms. “I didn’t want to go anywhere that night. I tried so hard to get her to just stay where we were. It was New Year’s Eve and all though I wasn’t drinking, I knew others were. I told her. I fucking told her I didn’t want to drive her home with all the crazy people that would be out that night, but she was eight months pregnant with our baby girl and she kept complaining she was uncomfortable and needed to go home to sleep. Finally, I caved in.” He looks up toward the ceiling. “I’m so fucking sorry, Helena. I should have said no and put my foot down. You may have been pissed at me, but you and Hailey would be here right now. I would be taking care of you both; protecting you.”

His body starts shaking as he looks back down at the ground and breaks down. He’s crying so hard that I can’t help the moisture building up in the corner of my eyes just from watching him. My heart aches for him. He’s been holding all this pain in. That’s not healthy for anyone. Not to mention the fact that he blames himself. No one should have to bear that pain.

I stand up and walk over to stand in front of him, but he doesn’t look up from the ground. He just takes a quick drag and exhales. “The car killed her on impact; broke her neck.  Dammit! All it did was throw me around a little.” He brushes his fingers over the scar on his face. “I still remember holding her until the ambulance came. It felt like forever before they got there. I knew she wasn’t breathing, but I . . . I just kept on yelling at her to hold on; that her and Hailey were going to be okay, but the blood . . . it was everywhere. Her seat was soaked in it, but I never let myself believe that Hailey wouldn’t be born. I refused to give up hope.”

He stops and chokes back a sob before whispering, “My life ended that night, along with theirs.”

Without thinking, I drop down on my knees in front of him and place my hands on his arms, but he jerks away. I grab his arms again and pull them away from his face. He looks up at me through wet lashes while dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his knee. “You can’t blame yourself for that night, Slade. Please, stop blaming yourself. You did everything you could to take care of them.”

His nostrils flare and his jaw muscles flex as tears roll down his blotchy face. His eyes are distant and his whole body is shaking under my touch. His pain is too much to handle. All I want to do is help ease it.

I grab his face and rub my thumb over his scar as a tear slides down my cheek. He still hasn’t said another word. He just looks numb now; dead inside. He’s staring at me as if he’s a bit surprised by my comforting him. “It’s okay for you to talk about it. It’s okay to let it out and ask for help to carry some of the burden. Let me help you.” He starts shaking his head as he closes his eyes, tears still falling. “I know you miss them. That is nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all. Okay, dammit? The world should know how much you love them. Don’t let the memory of your family die out because you’re too afraid to talk about it; to remember. You shouldn’t live life that way.”