Page 5 of Blood Money

I stare at him and cross my arms. He searches my face, but the answers he’s looking for won’t be there. I’ve grown accustomed to hiding my feelings, but clearly he hasn’t. The look of disgust he feels for me lingers under the surface of the fake, sad mask he’s put in place.

“December, sir,” William whispers lowly, but with so much space and not enough furniture or bodies, his words echo around the room softly.

“Stop it, William. I asked him.” I point to my dad while keeping my eyes on William.

William shoots his eyes to the floor and mouths, Sorry.

“My point is made. I have better things to do than learn the ropes of your company.” I leave the dining room without another word and go straight up the stairs and into my room.

I’d like to say my own father not even knowing my birthday doesn’t hurt, but it does. I’m part of him. His blood runs through me, and he can’t even remember the day I was born. Hell, he’s never even tried to spend time with me until now.

I close my door behind me and slump against it until I hit the floor. For so long I’ve told myself it doesn’t matter, but not being wanted by a parent is worse than heartbreak. It’s the deepest kind of pain I’ve ever felt.

I pick myself up and walk to my nightstand. I slide open the drawer and grab the old cigarette pack I keep my joints and lighter in. Pulling one out, I spark it before I even make it to my window. I perch myself on the seal and push it open.

The shit with my dad serves as nothing more than a distraction from the shit with Lydia. Although I try to keep those thoughts at the back of my mind, they always seem to seep into my head and take over.

I need a better distraction… One that doesn’t involve fucked-up families.

I pull my phone from my pocket and hit the number I always seem to dial in times like this.

After a few rings, his voice pours out from the other side. “Hey, baby.”

I smile. “Bradley. I need to see you.”

Bradley knows me. The me I don’t show anyone. The one where I’m vulnerable and small. He gets me and doesn’t pry. I shouldn’t lead him on because I know he wants more, but I can’t help it.

He’s the only one who understands my desperate need for an escape—for lust and sex—and he so willingly gives it to me without asking questions. After all the shit with Lydia and Carter, we were both stuck in a fucked-up position. Sure, we knew the consequences going in, but we didn’t know the extent they would go. We didn’t sign up to help with a murder.

So, we push it away and fuck instead. We clear our minds by evoking pleasure from each other.

“I can be there in ten,” he remarks, and I can hear the smile in his voice, which pulls a smile of my own to my lips.

“I’ll be in the greenhouse.” He and I don’t require a lot of talking, so I hang up before he can reply.

I snub the end of my joint out and stand from my windowsill. I suck in another breath, then release it, willing every bad emotion I have to go with it.

When I make it to my nightstand, I stuff my half-smoked joint back into the cigarette pack and open my door. I can’t hear the echoing of conversation from my dad and William from downstairs, so hopefully they’ve gone about their way. Dad never sticks around us long anyway.

I slip into the hall and start down the stairs. Once I make it to the bottom, I pause again. It’s still silent. Exiting the front door, I close it softly behind me, then walk across the front of my house, turn the corner, then start toward the greenhouse in the back.

It’s the only place here that doesn’t have cameras. The only place I feel I can get privacy. I disabled the ones on my floor almost as quickly as Dad put them in, but he’s sneaky. For all I know, he probably has ten more set up for the four I broke.

The greenhouse comes into view, and a sense of relief washes over me. This is my happy place. An entire structure made of glass that still manages to shield me from my dad’s prying eyes and ears. He’d never be caught dead out here. He’s too proud.

As I enter, the air changes and my shoulders relax. It’s cooler since there are fans positioned above every few feet, but the heat from the setting sun still peeks inside and kisses my skin. I walk down the aisle in the center, letting my hands brush the leaves of each plant I pass. There is something so peaceful about here. I can breathe easier.

When I make it to the other end of the aisle, the door creaks open and Bradley steps inside. Butterflies erupt inside my stomach. Not the kind of butterflies you get when you love someone, but the kind that comes when you’re excited. And that’s what I am—that’s what Bradley makes me. Excited.

I flash him a smile, then turn and saunter back toward him. As I stop in front of him, his arms reach out and wrap around my waist. “I’ve missed you.”

I tip my head, giving him access to my throat, then clamp my arms around his neck. “How much?”

He leans down and bites my neck, then turns me around quickly. With one arm still firmly around my waist, he uses the other to clear the table beside us. Gloves, scissors, and discarded plant parts clatter to the floor. He pushes the front of my body to the table, the edge of it digging into my stomach painfully, but I don’t protest. It helps me focus on the here and now, not the shit from the past swirling in my head.

“So fucking much.” He hisses behind me, pushing his chest into my back. His soft hands trail my arms, then my sides, all the way to my thighs.

I feel his presence leave me all for three seconds before he’s back, leaning into me and holding a small foil packet in front of my face. I take it with my teeth and tear it open, then flip so I’m facing him. I let my eyes drag down his body, starting with his face.

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