Page 100 of Lucky 14

This fucking place doesn’t have fucking bathtubs, and I can’t hate Wyatt more for overlooking that right now. I need to submerge myself in water and hold myself under for so long that I can’t breathe.

It’s raining outside, and I rip open the sunroom doors and stride out onto the patio, turning my head up into the water. But it’s not enough, and I rip my shirt off, needing as much water on my skin as I can get.

I’ve been drinking since…well, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore. Lying in bed next to Oakley opened up that deep pit of ugly, churning, sticky emotions that have been clawing at me, trying to drown me in memories. They’re terrifying memories that have taken a life of their own. They’re so close I can see their bloodshot red eyes, can smell the stink of desperation, can feel the hot breath of their deep suffering. They feel foreign, and yet so familiar at the same time.

“Demon!”

Dad’s voice comes through at the same time as a crack of thunder, and I jump.

“Wish Dad had drowned you that day.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it only makes me see my brother better. He looks like a carbon copy of me, just…meaner.

I take another long drag of alcohol, the sip burning with self-hatred. The memory of the hurt crack in Oakley’s voice makes every breath I take hurt. For a second, I thought I could find…whatever it is that other people have when they’re close with someone. Then the stillness set in, and…well, I remembered why I can’t have that. Plus, why did I think I’d find that here, of all places?

The tequila in my stomach feels like water. It’s not strong enough.

A vision, memory, hallucination, something hits me. There’s a child curling around my white dog. “Don’t hurt him!” The barrage of helplessness and absolute terror that I feel coming off the child makes me want to drop to my knees and curl into a protective ball around my bottle of tequila. Instead, I whimper like a child.

The tequila is supposed to get rid of this.

Dad always said I was a demon when this happened. I haven’t lost the fight in so long. My hands shake.

“Kyan?” Oakley’s voice cuts through the voices.

Oakley? Is he now a part of my hallucinations? I hope so.

I turn, blinking the rain out of my eyes, and there Oakley stands, planted in the doorway, glaring at me.

Real? Or just a memory?

I blink, feeling the world shake under my feet.

I take a step toward him, and he doesn’t disappear. Doesn’t call me a demon. A weird feeling rushes through me, and I find my feet moving toward him of their own accord. I see it in his eyes—the way he lives his nightmares like they’re nothing. I run from mine, but Oakley embraces his.

I catch the anger and uncertainty in his face, but not before I can stop myself from crashing into him, wrapping him in a hug. I’m not sure why I do it, but something tells me if I hold onto him hard enough, he won’t disappear into a memory. That he’ll stay and help me. That some of his courage can leak over into me.

Oakley stands stiffly, and that’s when I notice a woman behind him. The world shifts again, but she doesn’t go anywhere. She’s stunning, with a streak of white hair through the blonde and blue eyes. But what strikes me is how different her eyes are from Oakley’s. Her eyes are dead, like she’s plotting how to kill me, keeping track of where my hands are. Or maybe she’s a demon from my nightmares, come to drag me into a place I can’t come back from.

She says something, trying to pull Oakley back, but suddenly, the world is tilting violently, and the door comes in to hit me. I stumble, trying to get away, but it still hits me with a bang.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I reorient myself in time to see Oakley here, hands gripping my shoulders. He gives me a shake, and my head bangs against the door. The woman is behind him, giving me a look that tells me she wants to kill me.

Is the building falling apart? Is there another earthquake? Last time we had weeks of repairs on the villa. I have to make sure Oakley doesn’t get hurt.

I throw myself on top of him, covering him with my body, bracing for impact. “Keep your head down.”

There’s yelling, and something rips at my throat. Something…small. Something like the woman’s nails.

“Kyan!”

I blink, turning my head to see that Oakley is looking at me.

“Fucking get off me.”

I don’t, still braced for the villa to crumble around us. Oakley struggles underneath me. The feeling of his body rubbing against mine as he tries but fails to outmuscle me makes my dick hard. Suddenly, that’s all I want. I want to be buried so deep in Oakley that his tightness and warmth are all I can feel.