Maddox isn’t possessive. Of course he’ll give me shit for following in his footsteps.
But if I don’t let it bother me… That’s what would kill him. If I showed I don’t care, and I won in the end anyway, it would drive him crazy in a way that no amount of breaking in a fresh pussy could do. At first, he’ll gloat and mock me for picking up his discarded fuck doll. But once he sees I’m not letting her go, that I value her… Once I walk around with her on my arm, making her happier than he ever could… It will drive him out of his mind to know that I tricked him, let him think she was only worth a night, and then took her for keeps.
I put the safety on and slide the gun into the waistband of my boxers, then circle the couch and scoop her into my arms.
Maddox thinks he won, but this isn’t over. He used her, and he thinks that’s all I care about. By the time he realizes it was only halftime, he’ll have long ago tossed her ass like every other girl. And I’m here to catch her when she falls.
That’s why I’m the one who will be ahead at the final buzzer. He doesn’t know it yet, doesn’t know any better than she does, but I’m just getting started. I’m not going to walk away from her just because he ruined her. I’m going to put her back together and keep her forever. By the time he realizes that I won in the ultimate game, that I won in the end, she’ll be mine.
Just as I’m carrying her down the hall, the bathroom door opens and Maddox steps out in a cloud of steam.
We stare at each other for a minute.
I expect some smirking and gloating, but he just frowns, and his jaw clenches. Then he walks into our room and closes the door. Not that I expected him to fight for her. He got what he wanted, after all. He plays the short game. He’s a dumbgilipollas, and he thinks that her virginity is the prize. But I’m playing the long game. I’m playing for keeps.
And if I play my cards right, by the time he realizes that she’s the prize, she’ll be so in love with me she won’t even remember tonight.
I step into her little room and lay her down on the cot. “I know you’re hurting,” I tell her. “But I meant what I said. I made a promise, and you know what that means. I’m not going to fuck you—especially now. Not until you’re ready. Let me prove I’m not like him. I’m going to be here for you, Rae.”
She nods, curling in on herself with another hiccupping sob. I go to Mom’s desk and set my gun down, then return to the bed. It’s narrow, and when I slide onto it, the metal railing on the side of the cot digs into my back. But it’s worth it. I know that now. I know I won, and that’s worth a little discomfort. It’s worth the seething white rage in my chest that Maddox fucked her first. It’s worth knowing that the real reason I’m not fucking her tonight is because his cum is still inside her, probably leaking out of her cunt as the tears leak out of her eyes while I hold her.
And she fucking lets me. She lets me dry her tears, the ones she cries for him. She lets me hold her while his cum drips out of her wrecked hole, no longer untouched and waiting for me. I waited for her, and she didn’t wait for me.
But I have plenty of time to punish her for that.
I pry her hair off her tear-stained cheek, my touch gentle, and kiss the damp, salty skin. “I’m here,” I whisper, pulling her into my chest and letting her cling to me until her sobs subside. “I’m not going anywhere, despite what you did. I’m going to wait for you, and I’m going to be with you in the end. I promise you, Rae. And I never break a promise.”
twenty-nine
#1 on the Billboard Chart:
“Too Close”—Next
Rae West
Maddox doesn’t come home for a full week after our night on the roof. I try not to think about where he is, if he’s crashing at some girl’s house. I’m sure he is. He’s Maddox. He goes through girls faster than most people go through a bag of Doritos.
And it’s none of my business.
He made it clear he didn’t want me after all. Worse, he accused me of using him.
Was I? I didn’t think I was. I didn’t know I was.
But the way he made it sound when he pushed me off, it was like he didn’t want it at all. Like I threw myself at him, or worse, forced myself on him.
I’m too confused and hurt to seek him out at school, either. I go to my classes, and at night, I crawl into bed and nurse my wounded heart until Lennox comes in and carries me to his room. He holds me and kisses me, but he never even tries to slide a hand up my shirt. He’s patient and kind and all the things Maddox isn’t.
After a few days of waking up and seeing the empty bed across the room, I work up the nerve to ask where his brother might have gone.
Lennox leans in and kisses my forehead. “He does this sometimes. Takes off like this. Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you know where he is?” I ask, watching Lennox’s face carefully for signs that I’ve pissed him off. He’s been nothing short of amazing since that night at the quarry, so patient I can almost convince myself I imagined it, that it wasn’t that bad.
But I know it was real. That boy is still in there, under the sensitive artist soul.
He shrugs his top shoulder as we lie face to face on his narrow bed. “No,” he says. “That would require him to actually care about people besides himself. If he didn’t leave us worrying, how would he know we were thinking about him all week?”
“You really don’t like your brother, do you?” I ask.