Breathe Me (A 'Me' Novel) (14 page)

“People usually knock before they enter a room. Guess that shit is no-go here?” Deklan eased off me and stood to face his father and brother, giving me his back. I eased myself into a sitting position, barley registering the dull ache in my back now that it was superseded by all the tension in the air. I really shouldn’t have been surprised by Deklan’s sudden iciness. It was what guys like him did, right? He was not the tender, cuddly type, I knew that, and I wasn’t sure if I was either because I had never had it. But, I felt I could be, and that if I got it, I would always want it, crave it, need it.

“It’s my home, is it not?” Mr. Kane said elegantly. He spoke in a way that demanded attention and respect and intimidated the hell out of me. He was tall, like Deklan, although Deklan looked a few inches taller than his father. They both had the same sterling-gray eyes and structured jaw. It was like I was looking into the future and seeing how Deklan would look in thirty-plus years. Whoever he ended up with wouldn’t be disappointed. I could see where he got his looks from. Mr. Kane was handsome.

“I heard a noise, which I sought to inspect, so why would I knock? And I’m glad I didn’t, else I would never have caught you violating my home.”

Deklan shifted in front of me when his father tried to peer around him at me.

“I wasn’t violating your home. I had business here.” Deklan shifted on his feet, making me nervous. Clearly I was missing something here. The tension that radiated off them was familiar and intense. I was suddenly very uncomfortable for a reason that had nothing to do with getting caught post-orgasm. I didn’t like confrontation; it always ended in blows to the head or a fist to the stomach. I felt myself tense up, waiting for the hits to start.

Expecting it.

“Business, is that what you’re calling it now?” Matt smirked. Asshole.

“Square up, little brother, I fucking dare you,” Deklan seethed. He was now the menacing guy I saw on the street this morning, and while it made me twitchy, I knew instinctively that this was him being protective—of me.

“There is a lady present, son,” Royce announced calmly yet effectively.

Matt let out “barely” on a cough, and Deklan stepped closer to him, his hands tensed up at his sides. Matt didn’t seem scared, though, more like a taunting younger brother, like he thought Deklan was all talk. Maybe he was when it came to family; I didn’t know how real families acted.

“I’m Royce Kane. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He purposely sidestepped his son and extended his hand to me. It felt as though he thought I was in my correct place, looking up at him while he extended his hand down, like I was beneath him.

Slowly, I stood up and accepted his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“And you are?” he prompted.

Before I could even attempt to reply, Deklan beat me to it. “She’s no one,” he said.

I tried not to let his comment sting, but it did. Because I was looking for something in him that wasn’t there—compassion. Maybe he was just a protector by nature and saw me as this wounded bird or something. Even if I wasn’t before, that comment made me one now.

“Harley, her name is Harley, Dad. She’s a friend of Ember’s,” Matt supplied.

His father raised a brow in disbelief before schooling his features and saying, “Really? How
interesting
.”

One word.

That word held so much malice and judgment, and for the first time, I felt ashamed for having built the reputation I had. Maybe, just maybe if I was myself, I would be enough and Mr. Kane wouldn’t be looking at me, scrutinizing my worn shirt, jeans with the ripped knee, and well-worn and faded sneakers, thinking I was trash.

I felt small and naked and wished I had never agreed to come here for the millionth time today. What had I been thinking? Guys like Deklan only wanted one thing, and I had told him I was not going to sleep with him, but the second he got the chance, he had me right where he wanted me. In his bed.

Was this desperation? Was I so desperate for attention, for touch, for intimacy, that I would let myself be degraded? Did I feel degraded? I shifted through the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling and couldn’t find degradation in there. I liked what he did to me, and if I was completely honest with myself, I liked the way he talked to me. It was so real and raw and honest. I didn’t feel talked down to or stupid. I felt alive.

I wanted to find a way out, badly, and willed my feet to start moving toward the door, but Deklan suddenly grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the room to my exit. He stopped in front of Matt and bit out, “Step,” before growing inpatient and shoulder-checking his way out. We had just crossed the threshold when Mr. Kane called out to his eldest son.

“Deklan, a word, please?”

He let out a sting of curses under his breath before giving me directions on how to get back downstairs and outside before turning and closing the door on what I could only assume was the “Son, you’re too good to be with someone like her” speech.

“Dude, so soon?” I heard Matt say.

“Shut up,” Deklan said.

“How dare you bring this filth into my house? Have you no respect for your mother?” Mr. Kane said.

I didn’t want to hear anymore. Hearing him call me filth only confirmed my suspicions. To him, I was a no one, trash. And if he could see it, then so would Deklan, if he hadn’t already. He was his father’s son, and despite the tension I felt in there, they probably had some bond that made him obey everything his father said.

I said these things to myself as I walked down the stairs, even though deep down I didn’t want to believe them. I felt like Deklan wasn’t that guy. I mean, he hadn’t even been home the whole time I’d known Em and Matt, and until they talked about a setup, I didn’t even know Matt had brother. The familiar, rapid beating of my heart and the sweating of my palms returned, and all I could think about was getting back to Deklan’s car and calming myself down before I totally shut down.

I paused at the wall of family photos I’d missed when I was shell-shocked on the way up, hoping they would calm me down. They were all pictures from varying stages of life. Infant photos of a chubby-cheeked Deklan and later with a plump red thing I could only assume was Matt. Deklan when he must have been around two or three. First grade and pre-K photos showed Deklan gangly with wild hair and the beginnings of a scowl and a preening Matt smiling brightly. A family photo of all four of them showed a more prominent scowl from Deklan and Matt clasping his father’s hand. Lovingly. Next to him was a beautifully pale woman with green eyes and brown hair. Deklan and his mother shared the same hair color and full lips. She looked like what I wished my mother was like—loving.

I would always look at other women who were my mother’s age and wonder how they differed from mine. When I was younger, I hoped that she would change and that I was just seeing her when she was mad. I wondered what she would be like when she wasn’t mad. I just knew she’d be like all the other loving mothers I’d seen. But when I got older, that fantasy was proven to be just a wish falling on deaf ears.

“They are a beautiful family.” A voice from behind made me jump. I hated being snuck up on; it always kicked up my fight-or-flight reflex, and usually flight won out.

Turning, I saw Greta quietly close a double door at the end of the hall and come to stand next to me, admiring the happy family.

“You all right, dear?” She went to touch my shoulder, but my mind equated touch to hurting, and I flinched slightly. Her hand stilled, and then she dropped it, making me feel like shit.
She was just trying to be nice. She wasn’t going to slap you
, I chastised myself.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy…” I trailed off, not knowing how else to explain my reaction.

“From your fall?” she asked with a knowing look.

“Um, yeah,” I replied.

“You know, I’ve been taking care of Mrs. Kane for three years, and I have heard them mention Deklan a handful of times. And when they did, I got one message: he is the worst kind of bad news.” She turned from the pictures and gave me a sad smile. “You look like someone has already torn you down, and I don’t doubt he will make it worse. But I’ll tell you, I have never seen a man so intent and focused on someone like I saw him with you. Except maybe Mr. Kane with Mrs. Kane.”

“I…I don’t know,” I stammered. What does someone say to that? Thank you for your observation, but you’re wrong?

She patted my cheek like I imagine a loving mother would do and walked down the stairs into the kitchen. I followed and went to the door. I was uncomfortable and uncertain of how I should act. It was better for me to be outside, away from all this grandeur.

“Take care of yourself, honey, if no one else will,” Greta said before I shut the door and fell completely into myself.

Chapter 20

Deklan

Son of a bitch.

That shit? Grinding my dick against Harley’s thigh while she ground her hot pussy in my knee? Best fucking thing ever. Sure, I had grinded on chicks, when I was a shit kid and didn’t know my asshole from my dickhole, and I’d had chicks grind on me and get off, but no one—and I fucking mean no one—almost got me off to boot.

And when she came? I knew that was just the beginning. I wanted to give her the Olympics of orgasms. And I would.

“Are you even listening to me?” Royce’s voice cut through my thoughts like a switchblade. Buzz fucking kill.

“Yeah,” I shot back. He was really starting to irritate the shit out of me. I guess it was because I was gone, no longer living under his rule, and the fact that I could easily say “fuck it” and walk gave me all the fucking power in the world. I wasn’t a kid anymore.

“Why would you bring that vile act into my house? That filth?” he spat. In true Royce form, he was just getting warmed up. The niceties would soon stop, and then the real Royce Kane would come out.

“Vile? Filth? Me or her?” I glared at him. I was a few inches taller than my father, which also served to gas me up. There was no way this wasn’t ending with one of us getting a fist to the throat, and I was damn sure it wasn’t going to be me. Matty smirked his pretty-boy mouth, and it made me want to stop with this cat-and-mouse shit and just jab him in the throat.

“I was talking about the act in general. How dare you have sex while your mother lies dying no more than ten feet away? Have you no brains? And this young woman, does she have no self-worth, letting you degrade her?” He pulled a face that said he was both disgusted and put off by the whole thing. Like he cared at all about that “young woman.” All he wanted was to appear perfect in front of the golden child.

“She is kind of a whore. I’m sure he didn’t do anything that wasn’t done to her last night,” Matty said.

Yup, that did it. Usually I couldn’t give two fucks what he, or anyone for that matter, said about some chick I was banging—it was usually true anyway. But with Harley? Nah. No one was going to talk about her like that, ever. I lost my shit and popped his ass in the windpipe, not hard enough to cause damage, just enough to make his voice hoarse for a few hours.

“Open your fucking mouth again about her and it will be the last,” I said.

Dickhead.

I didn’t even give my father enough time to throw his insulting curses my way before I swung the door open and bounded down the stairs, giving Greta a nod as I headed out. If I didn’t leave now, shit was going to get real.

Harley was waiting next to the passenger door of my car when I came out and didn’t budge when I unlocked the door. I got in and waited.

And waited.

“I got shit, babe. Let’s go.” I didn’t want my father to think I was regretting my actions by stalling in his driveway. “Hello?” I started the car, hoping that would put her ass in gear.

Nothing.

Shit. I got out and marched over to her and froze mid-step. She had a vacant look in her eyes, which no more than ten minutes ago had been alive with fire. She had one arm wrapped around her waist gripping herself tightly and her other hand in her mouth furiously biting her nails off. She was not who I’d just had on the bed writhing pleasurably under me. This girl in front of me was just that, a girl.

She looked small and helpless and ready to crawl into a hole and give up at the slightest movement or sound, and I wanted to fucking kill the person who had done this to her. I wanted to put my foot so far up his ass he would be shitting my hos for fucking days. Months.

She was so lost in herself she didn’t even notice me quietly restraining my temper. Hell, she didn’t notice or care when I slowly eased up on her and stood in front of her. “Babe, you okay?”

Nothing. More of the nail biting and holding her waist in a viselike grip. Shiiiit.

Remembering our night at the diner, I knew this shit wasn’t going to get any better, and she didn’t protest when I put my hand on her arm, didn’t even fucking do her signature flinch when my skin made contact with hers, or make a sound as I carefully guided her into the car. Even after going around to my side, slamming the door, and driving off, still nothing. All the while she was silent as shit, only blinking, biting, and gripping.

Chapter 21

Harley

No one would ever love me, or love me enough to try and understand me. I hated that my mother was right all those times I merely thought she was just saying hollow and anger-filled statements. I allowed myself to have hope, to believe that I could be different than what she said, and that I could actually live and love. I wanted to argue with myself and tell myself that this couldn’t possibly be my life, that no one person could be this sad and lonely and still survive. But if I was honest with myself, “surviving” was the wrong word, because I wasn’t surviving,

I was just…here.

Taking what life had to throw at me, because that’s what you do, right? You take life for what it is, or so the saying goes. The people who make those sayings up, or even the ones who quote them, don’t know the sting of a mother’s loveless fist or the stomp of her foot in your back. Or the feeling of being totally alone in a world because you have no one who loves you.

People need people, and I had no one.