Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (12 page)

Once clean, I remained under the hot spray, staring numbly at the white tiles as water trailed down them in clear rivulets. I didn’t get out until the water cooled. I grabbed a towel from the stack in the cabinet and dried off, dressing quickly, not enjoying my body naked. I wanted to be covered up. Protected.

I wanted to feel safe.

I opened the bathroom door and entered into the hall, finding Dylan where I left him. He didn’t look over when I came in. He stared at the black TV, face stone and jaw clenched. I stepped around his legs and settled on the couch as close to him as I could get, peeking at him. He looked like this solid, immovable statue against me, and I wanted his sturdiness.

He met my eyes slowly. The small shift of pity did it to me again. I crumbled, burying my face in my hands.

His arm snaked around my waist, bringing me to him. I wrapped mine around his shoulders and shoved my face against him. I wanted him to encircle me, shield me, but I didn’t know how to ask for that. Dylan didn’t look like the type of guy who hugged girls. His right arm was decorated with tattoos, and he had a pucker on the edge of his left eyebrow, as if he’d had a piercing there at one point. It was probably a task for him to even hold me this way. But I was too selfish to ask he let me go. If he let me go, I would be …
alone
.

“I’m so confused. Yesterday I didn’t even know Bach had a sister.”

The stab of pain from his comment was sharp and acute. “That’s because Bach doesn’t want me around. I embarrass him.”

He surprised me by snorting. “Who told you that? You’re too damn sweet to have come up with that on your own.”

I raised my head to meet his eyes. “If Bach wanted to know me, then why didn’t you know who I was?”

“Because Bach and I aren’t on the same page these days. Plus, I have a good idea why he’d keep you hidden. And I think you do now too.”

Last night was a terrible occurrence, but it wasn’t one to be predicted. “What do you mean? That he’s ignoring me to … protect me?” He raised one eyebrow in answer, agreeing. “Protecting me from what?”

“Us,” he answered, looking away. “This lifestyle. We’re not like you, Hillary. You don’t belong at a place like Jona’s. You shouldn’t have been there. What were you doing there?”

“I was trying to protect my friend Piper.”

“Where is she? This friend? Where was she last night?” His tone had hardened.

“I don’t know,” I admitted miserably. “She was with Jona and then Justine—”

“Stay away from Justine,” he growled.

“Gave me a beer,” I continued, ignoring his tone. “And then Zane was there … and … I went to the bathroom. When I came out, he had my drink.” My lips trembled around my memory. “I’d never had beer before, Dylan. I didn’t know it tasted funny. I wanted Jona, and Zane got me into his bedroom.” I slid even closer to him, holding on to his arm so tightly his muscles constricted. A shiver slid down my spine. “He drugged me. I was so scared. I’d never been so scared in my life. But I refused to let him. I refused,” I growled. “I fought him, but he hit me.” Once again I was bawling. I dug my fingers into his arm, causing him to hiss. “I’m sorry.” I pushed away from him and scurried to the other end of the couch, pulling my legs to my chest. “I won’t touch you again.”

I could feel him watching me. If I looked at him, I’d crave the shield of his arms. All I had to do was last until Bach got back. And if he didn’t want me then I didn’t know what I was going to do. Because I wasn’t going home. I wasn’t facing my mother with the horrors of last night. Her reaction would be destruction at its most basic level. I recalled that time in second grade when Eli Hunt spit on me and pulled my hair. Mom had walked on the playground, found him, and made him pee his pants. Or Terry Underwood in freshman year of high school. She’d tripped me in the hall, causing me to dislocate my shoulder. Mom had gone to their trailer and gave her mom a good licking. Terry avoided me until we graduated. But this was different. This wasn’t an accident. This was a theft. A robbery of my insides. Zane had tried to ruin me, to steal parts of me that made me whole. A slap on the hand would not do it justice. As I thought about what he had done to me, fury began to bloom. I wanted him to suffer. To burn. Because if he’d done this to me—

“Piper. He did it to Piper.”

She’d been drunk, and it was over too soon, she’d said, but she hadn’t clarified the details, and she’d been unresponsive about it, moving on from the conversation too quickly. At the time, I’d wanted to move on too. I hadn’t stressed her for further details. Sick, hot horror settled in my belly.

“Shit,” Dylan mumbled.

As soon as he opened his mouth to keep going, we both looked over at a sound. There was pounding on the stairs, voices, and then the door handle turned.

“Drop it, Harley,” Bach snapped.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Bachmen. You
promised
.” Harley’s familiar voice broke.

“Babe,” he groaned, pushing the door open.

Beside me, Dylan’s head snapped up, and horror painted his face. He paled, and a strange emotion filled his eyes.

That’s when I remembered. Harley was Dylan’s ex. And by the look on his face, he was breaking inside. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to comfort him, but Bach was here. He was tall and muscled, big and strong. He was protective. I pushed off the couch and ran to him, jumping up high enough to wrap my arms around his neck. Just like last night the moment I was in his arms I was safe. I was engulfed in comfort … in my dad.

“Sweets,” Bach whispered, wrapping his arms around me so tightly it hurt. He scooped up my legs and cradled me to his chest, walking me over to the couch. Sitting, he folded me on his lap and tucked me in the crook of his arm, rocking me back and forth as I broke apart once more.

He smelled odd. In the middle of my memories, he almost smelled like rubbing alcohol. Like the soaked gauze during our lab work. I wiped my eyes off on the back of my hand and looked him over. He had a puffy lip and a scratch on his jaw. There was blood on his white shirt and jeans. And when he released his hold on me his knuckles on his right hand were wrapped in gauze. When I looked up and met his eyes, jade like my own, there wasn’t an ounce of regret in them.

“I’d do it again,” he promised darkly. “He’s lucky that’s all he got.”

“What did you do?”

“What were you doing at a party, at Jona’s place, with Justine, inside of Jona’s room, with a fucking guy like Zane Eastwood, in those clothes, drinking beer!” As he spoke, his voice deepened until he was screaming into my face. I flinched, but he continued. “What were you doing there?”

“Bach,” Harley mumbled.

“Answer me.” He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a shake. “I told you to stay away from that place. You’re too good to be there. You’re too damn good to even be within five miles of that place.”

His eyes were wild. Crazed. Fury burned in them. “I’m sorry,” I insisted.

“You’re sorry?”

“Back off,” Dylan demanded.

Bach wasn’t listening. He moved me so fast I couldn’t discern the moment. I was on the coffee table suddenly in front of him, and he was grasping my face. “You will not go back there. Do you hear me? Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was? What if, Hillary? What if!”

I took his screams because they meant Justine was wrong. He did want me. “Justine said you kept me a secret from everyone because you were ashamed of me. Because I’m boring and lame.” For some reason, this was the last straw. I fell forward, freeing myself from his grasp, and gasped for breath.

“Sweets,” Bach moaned, agonized. “I wasn’t keeping you away from anyone but me. I’m not good for you. This shit, this is my world. You don’t want that, do you? You deserve a better brother. One not like me.”

He was keeping me away because he thought he was bad for me? The thought was ridiculous. I met his eyes and tried to convey how I felt. “How can you be bad? How can someone who saved me and defended me be bad? You’re the only brother I want,” I added defiantly. “Please stop pushing me away.”

He looked torn, clearly fighting what he thought was best between what he wanted. “No more parties?”

“I won’t go to another party if you promise I can have you.”

“Fine, Hillary. I’ve fought a battle like this before, and it didn’t end well.” He glanced sharply at Harley and then returned his gaze to me. “How do you feel?” He focused on my bruises and then his eyes roamed over me. “Does anything else hurt?”

“I’ll be okay,” I assured him, even if inside I wasn’t as convinced as my tone.

“Tell me what happened. Everything,” he stressed, showing me he wasn’t afraid of the truth.

I spilled my guts. From the moment Piper suggested a party to the moment I heard Justine call my name before Zane hit me. While I spoke, Harley sat on the arm of the couch beside Bach, not looking at Dylan once. Dylan stared straight, pulse in his temple throbbing. His fist was bound on his lap, and I noticed when I got to the end that he closed his eyes and didn’t open them until I’d finished. When the last word left my mouth, I was numb with Bach’s question.

What if?

Chapter Five

Dylan

My heart hammered, sending emotions through me at an alarming speed.

Hillary was falling apart.

Harley was in the room.

I could finally see her.

Smell her.

She smelled fucking
mouthwatering.
Or it could’ve all been in my head. Hillary had used her soap, and the smell was all over me anyway. Oranges and honey, this sweet intoxicating smell that reminded me of a time when I thought I could finally escape my life. Harley made me want a different now. She thought it was possible. Without her, I was back to me, a man who was going nowhere so fast he could see the emptiness in the horizon.

I could feel her presence. It was warm, the sun, blinding me as she leaned against Bach as Hillary spoke. Beneath my desire, I felt guilt. Hillary was breaking right in front of me, and all I could think about was my ex-girlfriend. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, shut out the man in me who loved her, and remembered the man who loved no one. It was like swallowing fire. It burned; swallowing that truth hurt all over.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hillary finished, covering her face with her hands.

I wondered if she was aware of the fact that she hadn’t stopped shaking since she walked out of Bach’s bedroom with her angel eyes covered in scars.

The memory of her standing there, breaking and falling, knowing she had been stripped of her wings, had my heart pounding for a different reason. Girls like Hillary are what guys like me avoid. They were good in a way I would never be. They were shining with light. They made life worth living, because if the world was full of guys like me, then it would cease. Hillary and Harley had to exist for me to, and to know that someone took her light and pissed all over it, crushed me.

I glanced at Bach’s right hand covered in gauze and yearned to know he gave Zane what he deserved.

“The first thing I think we should do is to go to the police,” Harley spoke up.

The sound of her voice tore into me. It was so husky, this throaty sexy sound that used to bring me to my knees.

Hillary took a deep, shaky breath. “I know you’re right; I know it.” She hiccupped on her sob. “I’m just … not ready for that. Will you come with me, Bach?”

“Of course,” he agreed gruffly. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“We should go now before the drugs have a chance to leave your system.” Harley rose and grabbed Hillary’s hand. “Come on. We’ll go get ready and then Bach and I will take you.”

Hillary nodded, following after her. I didn’t watch them leave until I felt eyes on me. I peeked to find Hillary glancing over her shoulder at me, right at me, before she followed Harley into their room.

“Did you kill him?” I asked once the room was empty.

“No,” he said, not elaborating.

I wasn’t sure why I felt relief. Bach and I were done. What happened to him shouldn’t be any of my concern. But it had been for so long. When his old man used to beat him, I’d patch him up. When he bled, I stole Band-Aids from the store to stop it. When we fell as kids, we fell together. Sure, I pushed him away first. I hid from the truth, but he’d taken my lies and used them against me to get my girl. When he did that, he burned our past.

“He did it to her friend also.” I sunk lower on the couch, ignoring my growling stomach. I wasn’t in the mood to eat. Silence settled between us. Heavy and unwelcome. We were both thinking about the same girl for once, and this time she had his eyes. “You really think that’s such a good idea? Hanging around her?”

“No.”

“You’re a piece of shit. We both are. She shouldn’t even be in this house right now.”

“I know.”

He wasn’t going to listen to me. “You’re such a pussy. But Harley has that effect,” I tacked on bitterly.

Silence.

“Here’s what you should do. Take her to the police then take her home to her momma. You’re living in Houston. You’re not around. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She can heal there. She won’t heal with us.”

Nothing.

“Pussy,” I growled again. “How are you going to help her? You were just guzzling down booze and swallowing E like it was candy less than six months ago. Like you’re a role model?”

He swallowed hard, staring at the blank TV like it was going to prove me wrong.

“You think because Harley fell for your shit that you’re a better man all of a sudden? You’re still the same asshole you were before you met her. You’re why Hillary was in that house to begin with.”

“Shut up, Dylan.”

Harley’s order struck me hard. I rotated and met her beautiful betraying light brown eyes. “Shut up? You’re no better. What kind of a role model are you? Cheating on me while I was away at war? Sleeping with my best friend. You’re no better than him.” That’s a lie. She’s better than most people, but I’m looking into her eyes for the first time in too long, and I want her to hurt as much she hurt me.