Heartless (Merciless 2)

Addison lifts from her seat, making the blanket around her waist fall as her ass lifts up. “Love you,” she whispers and then gives him a peck. Then another and another. Three in quick succession.

With the tip of his nose brushing against hers he says with his eyes closed, “Love you too.”

And there isn’t an ounce of me that doesn’t believe them both. My smile falls and there’s no way I could fake one in this moment. Love exists in their exchange; it breathes in the air between them.

It’s undeniable and nothing like what binds me to Carter. It’s not lust, it’s a meeting of souls, the two of them needing one another and recognizing that truth.

“You need anything?” Daniel asks again as my gaze drifts to the side table. The edge of the carved wood grants me a small escape from their display.

“Aria,” Daniel’s voice is raised as he addresses me directly. “You need anything?” he asks me, and his eyes carry his real question, Are you okay?

“I’m fine,” I tell him as evenly as I can and then clear my throat before reaching for my glass again.

It takes a long moment after he’s left for the tense air to change.

“So, you and Carter?” Addison asks me, cocking a brow to be comical. She sips the wine but keeps her eyes on me and the expression on her face makes me laugh.

“Yeah, me and Carter,” I tell her tightly, but with humor.

“He’s keeping you trapped here too, huh?” she asks and the easy interaction that existed before turns sharp.

“You could say that,” I reply but my voice is flat. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I consider telling her the truth for a split second, but there’s no way I ever would. Not because I don’t trust her, but because I’m truly ashamed in this moment.

I’ve given up. I’m lying in bed with the devil. And as much as Addison appears to like me, there’s no way she’d ever respect me if she knew the truth. I don’t even respect myself.

”I’m guessing he chased you?” she asks speculatively. “The Cross boys tend to chase.”

“Again, you could say that.”

”When I first I met Carter,” Addison starts to tell me a story, realizing I’m not open to sharing my own Carter tale, while her thin finger drifts over the edge of the wine glass, running circles around the rim of it. “He was different from the other brothers.”

“How so?” I ask, watching her finger as my shame eases.

She glances at me for a moment with a pinched expression. “He wasn’t around as often, and he was always quiet when he was around, but you knew the moment he was in the house. He was the authority.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like their father wasn’t the best, you know? After their mother died, he took it really hard.” She swallows as if a painful memory threatened to choke her if she continued, but she goes on. “So, if anyone needed anything, it was Carter who was asked. Carter who made the rules. Carter who got whatever was needed.”

I watch her expression as she tells me their story.

“This one time, it was so stupid.” Her eyes get glassy but she shakes her head and brushes her hair back. “These kids stole our bikes,” she tells me, forcing strength to her voice.

“Tyler took me to the corner store and we left our bikes outside, and these assholes stole them.” She laughs the kind of laugh that you force out when you want a release from the need to cry.

“You knew Tyler?” I ask her, feeling a chill run down my skin, leaving goosebumps along their path. Nikolai told me once that when you have that feeling run through you, it means someone’s walked over your grave.

She only nods, her eyes reflecting a sad secret, and then continues. “It had to be these guys, they were older and there were like six of them. Grown ass men who had nothing better to do than steal bikes from high school kids.” She breathes in deeply before smoothing the blanket down across her lap and telling me, “We walked home and the last ten minutes it rained the whole way. We were soaked when we got back.”

“Daniel wasn’t there; Tyler went to him first because he didn’t like to bother Carter. None of the boys ever liked to bother him with petty stuff, you know?” she asks me, and I don’t know how to respond but she doesn’t give me time to regardless.

“So, Carter was there and asked what happened. He was quick to anger back then, so much different from now,” she tells me, and I look at her as if she’s crazy, but she doesn’t see. She picks at the blanket and continues. “He and Tyler left together in the truck, Carter told me to stay back and within hours, both bikes were in the back of the truck safe at home. Tyler was never one to fight. He was a lover and a kind old soul, but he said those guys wouldn’t mess with us anymore. I kind of wish I’d seen what Carter had done.” She says the last words like a spoken thought that had just come to her. All I can think is that she’s probably better off not having witnessed what Carter did to those men.