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Then my phone vibrates in my pocket and changes everything. It’s a text from The Nameless. They’ve found a buyer.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kane
I wake up beside her, with Pup curled between us. The dropout smells clean, which means Tobin probably took her inside the truck stop and let her shower. That was a terrible idea. I don’t trust that he can keep her from running off. Then again, maybe she was too thoroughly fucked to run.
I lift the collar of my shirt and inhale. I smell clean too. What sort of shit did we get into last night that would cause both of us to need a shower? Neither of them better bond too closely with each other, because this little arrangement isn’t permanent. Frankly, I can’t wait to get rid of her.
A dull ache pulses through the muscles in my back and ass as I climb out of bed. I’m getting too old for Tobin to fuck like we’re still in our twenties. That ship has sailed.
I grab a glass and set it on the counter with a loud clink. I refuse to tiptoe around and keep quiet so she can continue drifting through dreamland. Rise and shine, dropout.
I open the fridge and pull out the milk. I pour some into the glass and take a sip. It’s not warm, but it’s not cold enough for me.
Aurora stirs, turning over and staring at me. Her eyes drop to the glass.
“That’s your breakfast?” she asks, stretching.
I nod. I’ve had a glass of milk every morning for as long as I can remember. I used to wake up before my parents and pour a glass before they got up. It was my moment of calm before heading into a shitstorm each day. I stare at her as I pull out the ice tray and absentmindedly grab the few remaining cubes.
“Um...” she says, and I narrow my eyes on her.
“What the fuck’s your problem?”
She smirks. “Actually, nothing.”
I drop the ice cubes into the milk, swirl the glass, and take a sip. A pungent flavor hits my tongue. Like old beer and something else. I barely make it to the sink before I spit it out.
“Honestly, I struggled to believe this whole multiple personality thing, but this just solidifies it,” she says. “No one would willingly consume those.”
I study the glass. “What was in the ice cubes?”
“Tobin’s jizz,” she says with a laugh.
I know it’s Tobin’s because it sure as shit isn’t mine, and Jax wouldn’t dream of coming in the ice tray. Despite how annoyed I am, my lips threaten to pull into a smile. It’s her infectious laugh.
“I’m glad you find this so funny,” I say as I pour out the milk.
“It’s kinda hilarious.”
Turning away from her, I allow my lips to pull into a smile. It’s a foreign feeling, but I can’t pretend I don’t like the way it feels. People smile every day. People smile all the time. But not me. I haven’t had anything to smile about in a very long time. Maybe ever.
I pull out my phone to check the time, and I notice a text from The Nameless. They found a buyer for the girl, which means there’s no backing out now. In a few short days, she’ll be off my hands and I’ll be free to do as I please again.
So why don’t I feel good about it?
I blame Tobin and Jax. Though our system is demarcated by deep lines that keep us within our respective places, we sometimes experience emotional bleed-through. They’re upset about the finality of this text. They know what it means. Well, fuck them. I’m happy about it, and I remind myself of that as she rises from the bed.
She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, and as she bends over to collect her discarded clothes from the floor, I see that the t-shirt is all she’s wearing. Something far worse than a smile happens within my body as I watch her put on the leggings. There’s a tightening in my jeans as I harden for the first time in years.
My lips draw downward. An erection is a sign of weakness for me. It’s an innate bodily desire that leaves me feeling sick. Words flash into my mind, though I don’t know why.
Don’t get hard. If you do, they’ll hurt you.
Whatever happened to me all those years ago has been tucked away from my prying mental fingers, but my cock remembers. It became forever limp. A broken body to go with my broken brain.
Until this moment.
