Fatal (Portland Street Kings Book 2) (12 page)

My head lowered, I turn around and walk toward the stairs.

“Why?” a husky voice says out of nowhere.

Stopping dead, I don’t move. Was he awake the whole time I was staring at him? My face scrunches up as embarrassment floods me.
 

“Just tell me why?”
 

I turn around slowly. Mack’s expression is filled with defeat and sadness. I know he sees the same in mine because his eyes soften as my eyes finally meet his.

I exhale loudly and slide my body down the wall on the opposite side of the door. I turn my head left to look his way. My body begs me to crawl to him and take him in my arms. I want to remove the hurt from his eyes, I hate seeing it there, and I hate myself even more for putting it there.
 

“I was confused. At first, when Rex was threatening you all, I called you, I texted you, but you never replied. I held hope that you would contact me or come to my house when you thought it was safe. But you didn’t, and each day felt like a week and each week felt like a year. I grew angry. I hated you. I lost the only parent I had left, and my brother was slowly slipping away from me every day with hatred and revenge. But that’s not why I slept with Corey. Whether you want to hear this or not, I needed someone and he was there. Everyone around me was mourning my father’s death; Rex, our friends, and the people who lived in our street. Yet, I struggled to find one shred of sadness inside of myself for him. I felt terrible. I was in more pain over losing you than my own father.” I bring my knees up to my chest and say in an almost whisper, “I thought there was something wrong with me.”
 

“Dove,” Mack says my nickname in a hoarse voice.

I turn my gaze to him. “Corey was with me every day, he understood how much I was struggling. He didn’t know why, but he was there for me.”

Mack turns away and pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters angrily, “I bet he was.”
 

“It was only the once. We fell together out of my pain, and when I realized Corey wanted more, I backed off straight away. I hurt him and unknowingly I hurt you, too. I’ve never had a bigger regret than that moment.” I sigh and face forward, wondering if now there will be an awkward silence while Mack rebuilds his walls and hatred for me.
 

“I love you.” Mack’s words and anguished tone causes my head to whip around to look at him. My heart begins to beat painfully against my chest, each thump filled with its own emotion—fear, confusion, hope and love.
 

“I needed to get that out,” Mack says as he exhales loudly. “I thought holding it in, ignoring it, would be what helped me through this week with you, but either way, it’s just painful.” Mack rubs at his chest. “I want a do-over. I’m so sick of fighting with myself to be with you.”
 

Looking at Mack, I’m desperately trying to understand what he’s saying. I hear his words, but going by his body language he seems exhausted, defeated, not a man who’s confessing his love to someone.
 

“I love you, I always have,” I say as my hands shake.
 

Mack turns his whole body to face mine. We aren’t touching. However, every nerve inside me comes alive at our closeness.
 

“I believe you,” Mack states. “I’ve spent so much time convincing myself that you never did, that I missed how badly I’d fucked up. How much we both did.”
 

My heart kicks into high gear. Mack’s words cause a spiraling in me that I haven’t felt for five years.
 

“I want you, Lana. I fucking breathe easier just by having you close to me. I know being with you will open up a whole new world to me again.”
 

My breath catches and my pulse quickens as I savor the words I’ve longed to hear.

Mack shakes his head, struggling with his words. “You scare me. No one can break me like you can.”

I’m letting go of the controls and hoping by being honest with Mackson he’ll understand that he’s not the only one here with a lot to lose if we fail at love again.

“Seven months after the last time I saw you, I took Rex’s gun from his top drawer in his room and went to Fourteenth Street Bridge. I didn’t go there thinking I was going to kill myself. I wanted to decide when I got there when I had some peace and quiet to think.”

Mack’s body snaps straight and his eyes widen.

“I was in a lot of pain. Rex was distant. I’d lost you and hated myself for sleeping with Corey. My father was dead, and each day that went by that was peaceful and free of his taunts, was a good day for me. I was conflicted over my feelings and I had no-one to talk to.” I speak quickly so Mack doesn’t interrupt, and then slow as I continue, “And then, I’d brought a letter in from the mailbox and it was addressed to Rex, and on the back was my mother’s name. I opened it and she was reaching out to him, asking to see him,
only him.
Nowhere in the letter did she mention my name or ask how I was.” I shake my head. “What was left for me? I felt unwanted and discarded, by everyone who I’ve ever loved and thought loved me.” I lean over and show Mack a scar behind my ear.

He jumps up on his knees. “What the fuck, Lana! You tried to kill yourself?”

“Actually, no. I also took a bottle of Jack with me to the bridge and drank half of it, and ended up knocking myself out waving the gun around and screaming toward the sky. A lovely lady found me and took me to the hospital…” I pause, inhale, exhale, and continue in a whisper, “I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t able to kill myself. Nobody valued my life, but I came to realize that I did.”

Mack’s face pales. “I would’ve died with you that day had you done it.”

“I didn’t know that then. Everything has changed for me now, and I hate that I hurt you so badly.”

“I love you,” Mack says in a determined tone while moving forward and softly pushing my hair behind my ear.

“And I love you, but where do we go from here? We’re both still so angry. I don’t want
this
. I
want what we had, I want our innocent and carefree love back.”

“We talk, like this, we work through it. I believe if we want it enough, we can forgive each other and move forward. Our relationship won’t be what we had before and it won’t be what it is now. But it will be new and exciting, and better than our first if we fight for it. For me, I don’t have a happy future without you, Lana. The possibilities far outweigh the risks. And I’m not one to shy away from a fight, not one I know will be worth the blood and bruises.”

“I can forgive you,” I whisper. “I doubt I ever had a chance at trying to fight it. You own my heart, Mackson King. You always have.”

Mack grasps my face with his hands and kisses me. It obliterates every thought in my mind. The past and its pain evaporate. The soft caress of Mack’s lips becomes firm. My fingers dig into his arms.

Never will I let him go again.

Mack slows and whispers, “Is this real?”

I exhale, it’s small, but it feels as if a huge gust of wind should have come from my chest. “Yes, it has to be because I can finally breathe again.”
 

Chapter Nine

Two months later.

Lana

Every inch of Mack’s fit, sweaty body is draped over mine. He slams into me. I moan as my back arches and my body squeezes and pulses around him. It doesn’t matter that Mack’s taken me every day for the past two months, the burn and sensation of Mackson King stretching me continues to feel as if every time is the first, the best.
 

The past couple of months I’ve felt like a well, a dried up abyss that’s being replenished with rain and each drop is better than the last.
 

“Shit,” Mack breathlessly whispers into my ear.
 

He cups my ass with both hands and lifts my bottom off the bed. I moan as he drives deeper, thrusting in and out at a deliciously punishing pace. He’s aggressive and dominant yet the soft, lengthy kisses he places along my jaw and neck speak of devotion as if he’s worshipping me.

“Fuck. I missed this. Your tight, hot pussy,” Mack growls out.
 

Clenching my eyes closed, a blaring white light floods my lids. It’s calling to me, promising me bliss. I bite down on Mack’s shoulder just as ecstasy crashes over me and a moan rips from my shaking body. Mack’s spine locks up and he growls low and deep right next to my ear, the vibrations of his masculine tone sends shivers all the way through me.
 

Mack releases my ass and wraps his arms around my waist, flipping us over until I’m resting against his chest. Sated, I melt into his embrace, feeling heat on my back from the early morning sunlight, breaking through Mack’s bedroom window.

“We’ll clean up in a second,” Mack says in a rough, exhausted voice as he gently tucks my head into his neck. “I want to feel your heartbeat against mine for a while.”

My heart races and also squeezes painfully, not only from Mack’s sweet words but from the pain in his tone as he said them.
 

The past months have been incredible. We’ve fallen back into the Lana and Mack we used to be. Except now, there’s no what-if’s, there’s only us, forever, but that doesn’t take away the five years of heartache we’ve already experienced.
 

I kiss Mack’s chest, over his heart and rest my head back on his shoulder as I close my eyes.
 

“I know you’re still hurting, so am I. But trust in us, Mack. We will break through the pain.”
 

Mack turns us to our sides and he lowers his body so his arms wrap around my middle and his head now rests against my chest.
 

I wrap my arms around his neck and snuggle into him.

Mack positions his face into my body and inhales deeply. He turns his head back to rest on me and says, “My Dove.”
 

“Always,” I reply.
 

***

Staring back at myself in the bathroom mirror, I skim my hands down my arms, feeling the soft material of the black, deep v, long sleeved t-shirt. My eyes then fall to my dark, ripped denim jeans. I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. Pressing my lips together, I wonder how many times I’m going to look into this mirror while wearing my new clothes and remember I brought them here because I can’t go home or haven’t had the guts to, yet.
 

Eight weeks.
 

Sixty days.
 

And too many broken moments to count.

The longest I’ve ever been away from my brother.
 

My sight blurs and I quickly straighten. Shaking out my hands, I regain control over my emotions. Being upset and angry does me no good. No matter how many tears I’ve shed my brother still hasn’t reached out to me.
 

Or is that asking too much of someone lost in a world of drugs?
 

My heart tells me yes, but my mind can’t fathom how any amount of drugs could pull my brother away from me. How they could be strong enough that he would let his little sister go.

My father was a drunk, a capable one. He went to work, paid bills and managed to have friendships with others at work and people on our street. He’d go to work, bring home a carton of beers and not one of those beers was left in the morning. He’d go to bed when the last beer was gone and not a second earlier. Then he’d get up no matter how little hours he’d slept and go to work and act like a normal person. As if he didn’t get drunk, scream slurs at his daughter all night until his son got home, and then they’d muck around and laugh until he passed out on the couch.

My brother would open my door every single night to check on me. Rex protected me from everyone, but our father. Boys at school weren’t allowed to disrespect me without payback from the Parkland Poison Boys, yet my father could call me every name under the sun and I know Rex knew what was going on when he wasn’t home because I told him, begged him to be home more often. He always shook it off and told me,
‘He’s our father. They’re only words, ignore him.’

He didn’t get it. He didn’t live it like I had to.

On the days my father was drunk beyond his usual, Rex and my father would get into an argument. Rex would tell him to stop taunting me, but it always ended the same, my father crying on the couch and Rex trying to console him while our father whined about how our mother tricked him. He’d warn Rex to be careful, he told him that love wasn’t real.

I never asked Rex if he believed what our dad had told him. I knew love
existed, along with forgiveness and patience.

My head snaps up and my eyes watch through the mirror as my hands fist.
Forgiveness.
That’s all my father had to do, forgive my mother. Not even to her face, just inside himself, and my life could have been different.

My heart soars at the thought that I’m nothing like my father. I won’t hold on to the hurt. The only way to get through life is to let go and forgive. It doesn’t mean the person has to be in your life. It means your soul is able to heal and move on to the next open door.

“Other people’s sins don’t have to be your downfall.”
I smile. Mackson told me that a long time ago. I didn’t get it then, but I do now.

Opening the door and walking out of the bathroom, I grin as the same deep laughter and loud chatter fills the Kings’ house. I walk to the railing and look down at the shiny wooden floorboards, which lead into the kitchen. I can’t help but soak up the love in this house. It’s never said or hinted at, but it’s here, everywhere. It’s how they all work together. It’s how they laugh with their inside jokes that make no sense to me whatsoever. It’s Mack putting the barbecue sauce out on the table even though he hates it, but knowing Pacer doesn’t eat a meal without it.

This house is either bustling with laughter, or peacefully and comfortingly quiet. It’s a home, not mine, but it’s a beautiful one nonetheless.

“Lana.” Mack calls.

“Yeah?”

“Breakfast is ready, get down here before there’s nothing left.”

“Yeah Lana, get down here before Mack gets blue balls because he hasn’t seen you for five seconds,” Kelso yells with a smart-ass laugh. “Ouch. Fuck. Mack, that fucking hurt.”