Page 43 of Boy of Ruin
It fucking means something to me.
But did it for her? I don’t think so.
“Don’t be sorry, Luce,” O says, rubbing my leg, comforting me. She offers me a small smile, flashing her white teeth. “Why don’t we get you some food?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. Think of how Sid hated cooking. She tried, though. Whatever she made usually tasted like shit and I’d get notifications on my phone that the fire alarm went off more often than it should have, but she tried.
Usually, we’d have cereal for dinner, or I’d order something in. I thought about hiring a chef. It would be nothing for me. But I know how she felt about strangers in the house, and really, the less people to see our secrets, the better.
Still, thinking of her in the kitchen, cussing out the smoke alarm…I feel myself smiling, despite the tears still blurring my vision.
“Yeah,” I tell O, nodding, wanting her hands off of me. My dick is still hard, morning wood, and I just…I can’t think with her so close.
She smiles at me, her hands trailing higher up my shorts and just as I clench my jaw, about to tell her to fuck off, we hear footsteps, coming down the hall. Heavy, fast, then a familiar voice barking my name.
O’s fingers dig into my shorts as she turns, still on her knees, to look over her shoulder.
Maverick looms in the doorway, stopping like he’s shocked, just outside of it, pulling up short, his bright blue eyes going to Ophelia on her knees, to her hands on my thigh, then to me.
That inverted cross on his face tugs upward as his eyes narrow and he slips his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
He’s not wearing a fucking shirt, his tattoos on display, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he keeps glaring at me like I fucking ate all of Ella’s cookies or some shit.
“The fuck are you doing?” he growls, and O awkwardly stands, stepping back against the bed, wrapping her arms around her chest and shifting from foot to foot. I can feel her staring at me, but I don’t look at her.
Mav doesn’t either.
“What’s it look like?” I ask him, holding up my hands and shrugging. Him and Ella have been by every morning since Lilith has been gone, Mav dragging me into the shower, Ella setting food on the table.
Sometimes she’d leave, sometimes she’d stay.
I wanted to hate them for it. For thinking I can’t take care of myself without her. For thinking I’m…fucking insane.
But I’m not sure those things aren’t true.
“Looks like you were about to get your dick sucked by someone that’s not your goddamn wife.”
A small gasp escape Ophelia’s lips and she shifts closer to me, still standing, but her thigh brushes against mine. “It wasn’t like—”
“I don’t think I’m fucking talking to you,” Mav snarls, but he doesn’t even look at her.
Him and O have never been friends, but he knows she’s my friend. And he should know I could really fucking use a friend right now.
I gesture toward my crotch. “My dick look like it’s out to you?”
He glances down, his lean jaw clenched, the muscles of his core flexing as he takes a step into my room. “Looks like you’re fucking ready to go.”
I drop my hand and roll my eyes. “Maybe get Ella in here. She’d know all about—”
He crosses the room so fast, his hand going to my throat as he shoves me backward on my bed, I don’t even have time to fucking take a breath. He climbs on top of me, caging me in beneath him as my hands go to his forearm, pushing him off.
But he’s got one hand planted beside my head, and all his weight is leaning against the one wrapped tight around my throat as he glares down at me, those blue eyes full of rage.
“Don’t fucking go there. Stop acting like a piece of shit.”
Ophelia calls his name—“Mayhem,”—but he ignores her, circles his fingers tighter around my throat.
“Maybe you forgot someone is stalking your fucking wife, but I haven’t. And you might not give a fuck about her anymore, but she’s my sister, and she’s carrying my niece or nephew,” he leans down close, his mouth over mine, his fingers closing tighter, “and I fucking do,” he snarls, the scent of toothpaste hitting my nose.
