Ache Read online

  Myrah grimaces. “Ah, yes, weirdo boy, and his freakily perfect father. Your mother sure does know how to pick em, B.”

  Now it’s my turn to grimace.

  “Hey, Liam,” Myrah suddenly says with a sly grin on her face. “You’re a Taurus, right?”

  Liam raises a single brow, his eyes darting to mine in question. “Yeah?”

  “And Bea, you’re a Virgo. You know what this means, right?” she asks, waggling her brows suggestively. My face heats because I know exactly what she’s getting at. Virgo’s and Taurus’s are compatible when it comes to love and relationships. I know every single astrological sign and who their compatible partners are. I’ve always been fascinated with astrology and how it comes in to play in our everyday lives. And now it seems like Myrah is using this against me.

  “Shut up,” I hiss under my breath, nudging Myrah with my knee. Completely ignoring me, Myrah turns toward Liam, going on.

  “Li, did you know you and Bea are compatible love partners in the eyes of astrology? Bea swears by it.”

  I gasp. “I do not!”

  Myrah shoots me a look. “Bea, you made your mom buy you a buttload of astrology textbooks after that old one fell apart, and you’ve been mapping out your future based on the planets and the stars for as long as I’ve known you.” I deflate against Myrah’s couch. “I’m just pointing out that the two of you are compatible partners, that’s all. I’m not telling you what to do with the information, just throwing it out there,” she says, raising her hands above her head in a surrendering motion. I internally groan in embarrassment, almost too afraid to look at Liam for his reaction.

  Almost.

  Liam stares at his cousin, fighting a grin, and turns his magnetic eyes toward me. His gaze pins me in place, seizing my lungs. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk.

  “Interesting.” His tongue juts out, wetting his plump lower lip and I swear, I almost black out. My brain wars with the violent things happening in my body. I can’t get a handle on myself, or my hormones for that matter.

  Great, I’ve turned into the cliché hormonal teenager.

  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I should probably head home before my mom calls. Again,” I say as an excuse, hopping to my feet, and flying out the front door. Anything to avoid Liam’s probing stare and the urges flowing through my body.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t wrap my brain around why I was so attracted to Liam. He made me feel giddy and whenever I was near him, my insides turn to liquid. Hot pliable liquid. There was no denying how handsome he was. That was obvious just by looking at him, but there was something else too. Whenever Liam looked at me, his gaze did something to me. He made me feel things that I’ve never felt before. His eyes had the potential to reach inside and caress my soul, and that’s exactly what it felt like he was doing each time he looked at me.

  He was caressing me. Breaking me down piece by piece.

  The following morning, I’m forced to have breakfast with my new “family”. Mom caught me just before I was out the door heading to Myrah’s and scolded me for not spending more time here. With our family. I just gave her an eye roll. Because moms.

  For the most part it isn’t too bad, just a little quiet and a lot awkward.

  “Bea, maybe you can introduce Connor to the neighbors. I’m sure he’ll appreciate meeting some new people.” Mom smiles encouragingly at me from across the kitchen table, piercing her perfectly cut pancakes, and I do my best to smile back.

  “Of course.”

  I shift my eyes to Connor who’s just staring at me, once again, not making any move to finish his food. Another shiver runs through my body, but I suppress it.

  After breakfast, I hurry into my room to dress, and try to reach the phone so I can warn Myrah about the new visitor, but much to my displeasure, Connor is already waiting outside my door, ready to go.

  We silently walk side by side to Myrah’s house. There’s an awkwardness in the air that I’m not used to, and I can only think to blame it on him and his foreboding presence. Heaving a massive sigh, I knock on the door, with my signature knock and hear Myrah’s pounding feet from inside. She throws open the door with a smile, but when she gets a good look at my guest, her smile falters for a fraction of a second. She eyes me in question, and I shrug my shoulders in answer.

  “Myrah, this is my new stepbrother, Connor. Connor, this is my best friend Myrah. Mom thought it would be a good idea to bring him over to meet everyone,” I say by way of explanation. She nods her head and ushers us inside, eyeing Connor out of the corner of her eye.

  “My parents are out grocery shopping, but Liam’s in his room, I’ll be right back.”

  We sit on the couch in her living room and for the first time ever, I feel awkward here in her house that’s always felt like a second home to me. I blame that on Connor.

  Not long after, Myrah comes barreling down the stairs with Liam trailing behind her. I perk up when he comes into view. Butterflies immediately take flight the closer he gets, allowing me to get a good look at him. He’s dressed in one of those workout t-shirts that reveal his strong arms—my eyes riveted to the veins protruding in his hands and forearms—and a pair of black basketball shorts. His hair is in disarray, the tips slightly hanging into his iridescent eyes, but somehow it still looks good on him. It’s like the guy can make anything look good.

  “Hey, sweet Bea,” he says when he sees me, and my heart flutters.

  “Hi,” I whisper, grinning shyly.

  Our relationship has become more comfortable, and friendly over the time he’s been here, and I couldn’t be happier. With all the changes and new things in my life, Liam is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. Having him here, someone else to talk to besides Myrah, has helped me cope with the fact that I have a new stepfather and now, a strange, new stepbrother. Sometimes, I wish I could just hang out with Liam, by myself, but I know that would hurt Myrah’s feelings one way or another. So, we usually try to take advantage of alone time whenever Myrah is busy doing something.

  Liam’s smile falters when he sees Connor standing beside me. The two of them don’t say a word, just stare at each other—almost like they’re in a silent stand-off. The tension in the air is so thick you can cut it with a knife. I have no idea what has caused the sudden shift in both their demeanors.

  What the heck is going on?

  I look to Myrah for answers, but she just shrugs her shoulders in clear confusion. Liam’s gaze falls back on me. Unnamed and unfamiliar emotions float in his eyes, but for the life of me, I don’t understand what he could be thinking.

  “Liam, this is my stepbrother, Connor.” I turn from Liam to Connor. “Liam is Myrah’s cousin who will be staying here for a while.”

  Both guys don’t bother shaking hands or acknowledging each other, other than a barely noticeable nod of their heads.

  After the awkward introductions, we head out to the backyard, next to the pool, but things don’t get better. If anything, everything just gets worse. It’s still extremely awkward, and every conversation is forced, not like it usually is between the three of us. Myrah and I strip down to our bathing suits and jump in the cool, chlorinated water, ignoring the awkwardness of the boys.

  As the summer afternoon drags on, I notice Liam becoming angrier, if the scowl on his face is any indication. I run after him when he suddenly shoots out of the lounge chair and storms into the house, slamming the patio door closed. When I follow after him, I find him pacing the living room with his hands curled into fists.

  “Liam, what’s wrong?”

  He whips around to face me, and his scowl deepens.

  “I don’t fucking like him. The way he looks at you, Bea, it’s not right. I don’t like it. At all.”

  I’m slightly taken aback by his tone and what he’s just said.

  He notices it too?

  I swallow thickly trying to figure out what to say. Placing my hands on his biceps, I gently squeeze, ignoring the
paradox in my chest at the feel of his warm skin and the corded muscle beneath. For his sake, I force a reassuring smile on my face. I try to stay serious, ignoring the tingling sensation that sizzles through my body just from his proximity.

  “Don’t worry, Liam. Everything will be fine.”

  Always the famous last words.

  The slamming of the front door jolts me out of my thoughts. My gaze snaps to the front door and my stomach bottoms out. I’m not usually this careless. I always make sure I’m tucked safely in my room by the time Connor gets home from work, I must have lost track of the time.

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, it doesn’t take long for my gaze to lock onto Connor’s ice-cold stare. My pulse thunders in my ears, and my body trembles from head to toe. Adrenaline courses through my veins, my body immediately reverting to fight mode whenever I’m near Connor.

  Within seconds, he’s striding across the room, grasping my face in a viselike grip. The pads of his fingers dig into my skin, making me wince. Agonizing discomfort flares in the bones and the muscles along my jaw. Those cold brown eyes that I loathe make a show of looking me up, and down.

  “God you’re pathetic. You’ve really let yourself go, Bea.” He chuckles with mirth, and tears sting the backs of my eyes.

  Sometimes, his words hurt more than his actions.

  Without warning, he forces his mouth down upon mine and takes without permission. His tongue swirls in my mouth greedily. He sinks his teeth into my bottom lip until he draws blood, and tears cloud my vision. My bottom lip throbs in pain and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. Connor roughly shoves my face away from his, tossing me onto the couch like I’m a rag doll. With stealth and agility on his side, he roughly grips my breast in his hand and squeezes until pain shoots throughout my body. I hold back my whimper, not giving him the satisfaction. Finally, he lets go, and his smile is sinister—completely evil.

  “I can’t wait until tonight, sweet little Bea, we’re going to play.” He stands at his full height, towering over me—intimidating me—before walking off. “Get yourself cleaned up before mom and dad get home. You look like shit.” He tosses over his shoulder in passing as he leaves the living room.

  Once he’s gone, I inhale a deep, shaky breath, finally able to breathe freely without the fear of where he’ll strike next. My lip burns from his ministrations and the metallic tang of blood isn’t letting up. He must’ve torn through my skin good this time, just like he has so many other times before. My chest constricts with the need to sob, but I tamp it down. I can’t cry now. This is only the beginning of my hell.

  Sometimes I find myself wondering what it would be like if Connor actually loved me. Not because I love him. I don’t—I hate his guts. But I can’t help but think, what if things were different? I often wonder, if he raped me because he loved me, would it hurt less? Emotionally and physically? Maybe he wouldn’t be so rough, and ruthless. Would it make it all okay? But that’s not the case. It never will be. Connor doesn’t love me. And I’ll never understand why he likes torturing me the way he does.

  His hate for me runs deep. Much deeper than I could’ve ever imagined.

  PAST

  MARCH 2010

  I hurriedly change into my swimsuit and gather my bag, so I can go swimming at Myrah’s. My feet freeze when I run into the living room and Connor’s large frame is leaning against the front door, blocking my way out.

  “I’m going next door to Myrah’s, can you move?” I try to ask politely, but I know it sounds anything but.

  Lately, I’ve had no patience for Connor. It’s been almost nine months and still, nothing has changed with his weird attitude. Each passing day he creeps me out more than the last. He’s always playing some mind game with me—seeing how far he can push me, and I’m tired of it. His dad may have married my mother but that doesn’t mean he can push me around or tell me what to do. He’s not even my family. He’s nothing to me but someone taking up empty space in my mother’s house.

  “Nope. You’re not going over to Myrah’s today,” he says in a jovial voice that throws me off. I narrow my eyes at him.

  What the hell is he talking about? Of course I’m going to Myrah’s today, I go every day.

  “Can you please just move, Connor? I want to go swimming before it gets cold.”

  He cocks his head and assesses me from my position in the middle of the living room. The movement of his hand catches my attention, and my breath catches at the object he’s playing with.

  "Connor!" I squeak with wide eyes. "Where did you get that knife? We're not supposed to have stuff like that. My mom’s going to be so mad if she sees you with it!" I hiss, feeling my anxiety rise. My chest rises and falls to accommodate my heavy breathing.

  Connor twirls the switch blade around his hand and smiles with a shrug, sending a shiver of dread down my spine.

  "It's for protection, sweet little Bea."

  From what? I almost ask.

  His eyes rake up and down my body in my bathing suit and I wrap my arms around myself protectively to cover up. I do this often with Connor. Sometimes the way he stares at me scares me. Liam doesn't even look at me like that, so I know it's wrong. I just don’t understand why he does it. Over the summer my body has filled out quite a bit. Where I was lacking in cleavage and curves before, I’ve finally filled in, graciously I might add. It’s obvious that Connor has taken notice of my growing body.

  "Don't call me that," I say quietly with a frown. That's the nickname Liam gave me and coming from his mouth it sounds wrong. Ever since the first day Connor met Liam, he always teases me about my crush on him. I hate it. He also always makes fun of the nickname Liam gave me. I hate that even more.

  The muscle in his jaw ticks and he narrows his eyes threateningly. Gooseflesh trail across my skin, and cold sweat seeps out of my pores.

  “What's wrong, sweet Bea? Only Liam can give you nicknames?”

  He stalks toward me still twirling the knife in his hand. The silver color of the sharp knife reflects the light, glinting with each movement. My stomach churns violently around the large knots forming inside. I’m starting to feel breathless and dizzy.

  “Leave me alone, Connor,” I say, my voice lacking the necessary strength. He chuckles and towers over me with his tall frame. Wearing a satisfied grin on his face he lightly traces the blade of the knife on my collar bone. The color drains from my face. All the breath wheezes out of my lungs, and my eyes widen in fear. Bile rises in my throat and I stop breathing completely, afraid if I do the blade will puncture my skin.

  “What if I don't want to leave you alone, Bea?” Connor asks with raised brows, his voice dropping an octave. The blade is still tracing along my collarbones and down my arms in a slow, almost reverent motion. My bottom lip trembles and I bite it, holding in my tears.

  Why does he scare me so much?

  “Do you wanna know what would happen if you ever made me angry, Bea?” he asks distantly, eyes trained intently on his movements. I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat, trying not to cry. I’m afraid to do anything that will make him use that knife on me. I’ve never feared for my life before, I’ve never had reason to, but right this second, I’m afraid I’ll never see anyone I love ever again. I suddenly think about all the things I’ll never have the chance to experience, like being able to start high school, or get to know Liam better.

  I don’t even want to think about what’s going on in Connor’s sick and twisted head where his knife is concerned. Just having him this close makes me sick to my stomach.

  I hate him.

  "This knife could easily cut into that pretty pale flesh of yours if you ever made me angry. You don't want that now, do you?"

  His voice is taunting, and my lip trembles in fear. Tears cloud my vision and I carefully shake my head no. A sinister grin spreads across his face.

  "Good girl." He traces the knife around my lips lightly and the room spins. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and my blood
runs ice-cold, making my body shiver uncontrollably.

  “Are you still going to Myrah’s today?”

  “N-no,” I stutter.

  He smiles wickedly, folds the knife back into his grasp and turns away, whistling down the hall to his room. I'm left a trembling mess in my living room, too scared to even move.

  I hate my new stepbrother Connor.

  Over the course of the next few days, I try to find a private moment, so I can talk with my mom. I don’t want to upset her. She’s been so happy with Richard lately, but I’m also scared. I’m scared for my own life and the lives of the people I love. I don’t know how to deal with Connor on my own anymore. Every time I see him, my stomach churns and I have to clutch my stomach, anything to keep from vomiting all over mom’s clean floor.

  I never even told Myrah, or Liam about what happened, I was too afraid of what they’d say. Or what they’d think for that matter.

  Would they think I was crazy? Or would they take action against Connor?

  The latter has me worrying how badly the fallout would affect my mom and Richard. They definitely won’t be happy if anything happens to Connor.

  My mom is my last hope, but it seems like every time I make the move to talk to her in private, Connor is always there staring, probing, intimidating me away from telling her the truth. It’s like he knows what I’m about to do even before I do.

  I vow that the next time something happens, I’ll tell her no matter what. I just wish I knew then, that it wasn’t always that simple.

  It’s been a week since the knife incident with Connor, and I still haven’t uttered a single word. I haven’t even spent time with Myrah out of fear I’ll let something slip. I know she’s probably wondering why I’m avoiding her. Heck, we’ve never gone this long without talking or seeing each other.

  I feel horrible. Worse than horrible actually. I feel like the worst friend on the planet for keeping secrets from Myrah, but what else am I supposed to do? How do I tell her about Connor and the way he makes me feel? Once I open that can of worms, there’s no going back. Ever.