Текст книги "Bastard"

Автор книги: J. L. Perry

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

I’m in the midst of both heaven and hell. Last night she took me to a place I never thought possible. Bliss. That’s what I experienced with her. Fucking bliss. Never in my life did I think sex could be like that. Sure, it’s always good, but with her …

Sweet Jesus.

The things she made me feel blew my fucking mind. What we shared was fleeting in the grand scheme of things, but I know it’s something I’m not going to forget in a hurry—if ever. I only wish things could be different between us, but they can’t.

Rising from the bed, I head to the bathroom to shower. If I’m going to go through with my plan I need to get my shit together. Standing under the spray of hot water, I contemplate what my actions today are going to do to the two people I care about the most in this world.

My mum has given up the last eighteen years of her life for me. It’s time I gave it back. She has her fuckwit of a husband to help pick up the pieces. Then there’s Indi. She has so much promise for a bright and happy future. She has her whole life ahead of her. A life I’m pretty sure will be a lot richer without me in it.

I have no idea where I’m heading, or what I’m gonna do. I was hoping for a few more weeks to get a plan in place, but after what happened last night, this needs to be done today. The sooner, the better. Things are only going to get complicated if I stay. The consequences are just too high. My feelings for her are far too strong. I’ve tried to fight them, but I’ve lost the battle. This thing between us can’t last. It will eventually lead to heartbreak. I know it. That’s a chance I’m not willing to take, for her, or for me.

I’ve had enough of that shit to last me a lifetime.

Sadness washes over me as I pick up the body wash and remove her scent from my skin. Never again will I be able to smell her sweetness, feel her silky soft skin beneath my fingertips, or taste her lips. It brings a motherfucking lump the size of a goddamn basketball to my throat.

Once I’m dressed I throw my things into my suitcase, stowing it under the bed before going in search of my mum. I find her in the kitchen cooking. As devastated as I’m feeling right now, just seeing her brings a smile to my face. I’m going to miss her cooking, but more than anything I’m going to miss her.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says smiling at me. “Breakfast won’t be long. As soon as John gets home we’ll eat.”

Walking to her, I wrap her in my arms. “I love you, Mum.”

“I love you too, Carter.”

“Thank you for always loving me. For keeping and wanting me when nobody else did.” I hear my voice crack when I speak.

“Baby? What’s brought this on?” she asks looking up at me. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just needed you to know how much I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me over the years. It’s meant everything to me. You mean everything to me.” I see her eyes well with tears from my words.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I see concern etched on her beautiful face. I nod, tightening my embrace. “You’re part of me, sweetheart. You’ll always be a part of me. Not having you in my life was never an option. Not a day goes by that I’m not thankful that you’re my son,” she says, gently running her hand down the side of my face. I can’t speak. The lump in my throat is growing bigger by the second.

I’m surprised I’m not choking on that fucker.

This is my goodbye. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to see her again. That thought makes my heart ache. If it wasn’t for her, my life growing up would’ve been nothing. Meaningless. She gave up her future, her family, everything for me. Words will never be able to express what that means to me.

She loved the bastard that nobody else could.

Leaning down I place a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be in my room,” I say as I turn and walk away. I don’t bother looking back. I can’t. If I do, she’ll see the tears that now glisten my eyes.

“Okay, sweetie. I love you, Carter,” she calls out behind me.

“I love you too, Mum,” I whisper.

Reaching under the bed, I grab the bag I just packed. Emptying out the contents of my school backpack onto the bed, I head back into my bathroom. I throw my deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste and brush into the bag. Walking back into my room I grab my sketchpad and a photo I have of my mum and I from when I was a boy, and stuff them inside. Looking around my room, I check to see if there’s anything else I need.

Heading towards the window, my gaze moves towards Indi’s house. I’m shocked to find her standing in her bedroom watching me. She’s smiling. Fuck. I was hoping I didn’t have to see her before I left. I can’t say goodbye to her, I just can’t. It will gut me.

Tearing my eyes away from her I drop my suitcase out of the window. It lands with a thud. When my eyes meet hers again, I watch as her gaze moves down to the bag on the ground, and then back up to meet mine. The smile drops from her beautiful face. A face I know I’m never going to forget.

She steps forward and presses her palms flat against the glass. Fuck, she knows. The devastation I see cross her features rips my fucking heart in two. I watch as a lone tear cascades down her cheek. What I wouldn’t give to hold her right now. Kiss her. Tell her I don’t know how I’m going to survive without her in my life.

Jumping out the window, I pick up my bag and start walking towards my car. I take one last look over my shoulder at the only other person on this earth, apart from my mum that I love. Yes, I love her. I love her so much it fucking hurts. Last night just confirmed it.

She’s the only person that has made me feel like I’m somebody. The only person that has accepted me for who I am—the real Carter Reynolds. The person I am on the inside. Not the illegitimate child. The bastard. The real me. She knows my story and still cares. Still wants me around.

I’m not used to people wanting me, so the fact that she does is something I’ll never forget. I’ll treasure the time I’ve spent with her. She’ll always have my heart. I know that for a fact.

As much as it kills me, I need to let her go. Although she may not think so, she deserves so much more than I can ever give. So much more. I was born a bastard and I’ll die a bastard. That’s never going to change. In time I know my doom and gloom will dull her sunshine. I couldn’t do that to her. She’s perfect just the way she is.

I open the trunk of my car and place my suitcase and backpack inside. My heart is so heavy as I move around to the driver’s door.

“Carter, please don’t go. Don’t leave me,” I hear her cry from behind me. Christ. She’s come outside. I don’t turn around. I can’t. I wish I could stay. Better still, I wish I could take her with me, but that’s not an option.

Ignoring her, I open the door and climb in. Tears cloud my eyes. I didn’t think this would be so hard. I turn the key in the ignition and back out of the driveway. My eyes betray me as I take one last look at the kid. The kid that stole my heart. The kid that managed to penetrate my darkness, and for the briefest of moments showed me what it was like to have light in my heart again. Fuck I’m going to miss her and her smart mouth.

She needs to forget me. I swear I literally feel my heart shatter into a million pieces as I watch her standing there. Her arms wrapped around her tiny body. Tears are streaming down her beautiful face. It takes every bit of strength I have not to go to her.

There’s so much I want to say to her. So much. So much I want to thank her for. But, instead I do what I need to do to help her forget me. To help her move on. I flip her off as I put my foot down and drive away. Drive away from the only two people who’ll ever hold a place in my heart …

PART

TWO

CHAPTER ONE

Five years later …

Carter

I’m jolted out of my sleep by our song; Let her go, by Passenger. Well technically it’s not our song, but it’s the one that reminds me of her. Of us. I heard it a few days after I left. For the first time in years I cried. Cried like a fucking baby. It’s been the ringtone on my phone ever since. I don’t know why I torture myself by keeping it. All it does is remind me of what I’ve lost. Of the one and only girl I’ve ever loved.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table just as the brunette beside me stirs. Fuck, is she still here? “What time is it?” she asks.

“Time you got dressed and left,” I answer looking at the clock. Shit. 4:30am. Who’d be calling me at this hour? It better be a life or fucking death situation or someone’s gonna get their arse kicked. When I see my mum’s number on the screen my heart drops.  Jumping out of bed, I turn to the chick that shouldn’t be here.

I can’t even remember her name. Is it Sarah … Samantha … Shona? Fuck me. I’m sure it starts with an ‘S’. Either way, I don’t do sleepovers. I’m always upfront with every girl I bring home. They know exactly what they’re getting into. I’m pretty sure I told her to leave last night after we fucked. I guess I fell asleep and she didn’t listen. I fucking hate it when they do that.

“Get your shit and go,” I snap.

“I want to go back to sleep,” she whines, pissing me off even more. Scooping her clothes off the floor, I toss them on the bed. It’s not like I didn’t make it perfectly clear last night. This was a hook-up and nothing more. The majority of them are pretty good, but occasionally you get one of those needy ones that think they can change me. Like they have some kind of magical pussy that’s gonna keep me coming back for more. Sorry, not happening. There’s only one girl on this earth that can do that for me—my Indi. Nobody will ever live up to her. Nobody.

“Go,” I say in a warning tone as I turn and walk out of the room so I can take this call. “Mum?”

“Carter,” she cries.

“Shit, Mum. What’s wrong?” I ask in a panic.

“It’s … It’s John.” Just hearing that fucker’s name has my blood pressure rising. If he’s hurt her in any way I’ll rip him apart. “He’s dead.” Well I wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“What? What do you mean he’s dead? What happened?” To be honest I don’t give a shit that he has died, my only concern is my mum. I’ve always hated him, but I need to remember my mother loved him. God only knows why.

“Carter,” she sobs. “I don’t know what happened. I rolled over in bed and put my arm around him. He was so cold. He …” She starts to cry uncontrollably. It breaks my fucking heart to hear her cry. “I need you to come home, please.” Can I go back there? I suppose I don’t really have a choice. This isn’t about me. She needs me. It only takes me a split second to make my decision.

“I’m coming, Mum. I’ll be home in a few hours. Will you be okay until I get there?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I assure her.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she sniffles. It kills me to hear her so upset. “I feel so alone.” Christ, I hate that she feels that way. I know all too well what alone feels like.

Going back there is the last thing I want to do. I’ve spent the last five years trying to forget. My mum needs me, though.

••••

After showering and packing a few things into a bag, I’m on the road by 5:00am. As soon as I hit the freeway I pull out my phone to call my mum. I’m living in Newcastle these days. It’s a two-hour drive, north of Sydney. There’s nothing I don’t love about this place. It’s my home now and I’ll never leave. The people are great, I love the pace of life, it’s not as hectic as Sydney, and the beaches are spectacular. Originally I moved up north to try to put some distance between Indi and I. I thought it would help, but even if I moved to the ends of the earth I know she’d still be on my mind and in my heart.

When I was working with Jax, I was only a half hour drive away. Sometimes the temptation to drive past her house was hard to ignore. Being up here hasn’t stopped that desire to see her, but over time I’ve managed to deal with it.

I hate that I’m so far away from my mum right now. She’s all alone and sounded so distressed when she called. Understandably, I suppose. I’m itching to get to her as soon as I can.

“Hello,” a male voice says. I recognise it straight away. I feel my lips curve into a smile. Thank fuck he’s with her. Relief washes over me.

“Ross. Hi, it’s Carter. Christ I’m glad you’re there with her.”

“Carter, my boy,” he says affectionately. I can tell by the tone in his voice he’s happy to hear from me. It’s the same reaction I’ve gotten whenever we’ve talked over the past five years. “As soon as I heard the call come into the station I came straight here.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you. How’s she holding up?” I ask.

“Not good I’m afraid.”

“Can you tell her I’m on my way?”

“Will do. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances, but I’m happy you’re finally coming home, son. I’m looking forward to seeing you.” I’ve never considered that place my home. Fuckwit ruined that for me. As long as my mum and Indi reside there though, my heart will too.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, too,” I tell him. If I’m honest with myself, he’s not the only one I’m longing to see.

When I first ran away it took Ross less than a week to track me down. I guess in his line of business I should’ve expected that. I’d headed to Jax’s tattoo parlour the day I left with some drawings I’d done. I was hoping to make some quick cash. Something to help get me by until I could find some work. I guess running away without a lot of money to my name wasn’t my smartest move.

That’s where Ross Montgomery found me, the tattoo parlour. Thankfully, Jax not only bought my sketches that day, he offered me a job. He took me under his wing, and over the coming months taught me everything he knew.

Ross was pissed off when he confronted me. Pissed that I’d walked away without saying anything to anybody. He said my mum and Indi were devastated that I left the way I did, not to mention going out of their minds with worry.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” he’d asked. “I could’ve helped. Running away like you did wasn’t the answer, son.” He tried his best to talk me into coming back home with him. He even went as far as offering me a room at his house. I guess he knew my stepfather was part of the reason for me fleeing. He wasn’t the only reason. I never told him that though.

He was disappointed when I refused to go with him. But, being the easy-going man he is, he accepted that I had my reasons, even if he didn’t agree with them. At the time, I was sleeping on Jax’s couch. Ross didn’t like that idea, so the next day he helped me secure a place of my own. A little one-bedroom apartment. He also promised he wouldn’t tell anyone where I was when I asked him not to. However, he demanded I call my mother and let her know I was okay, which I did.

Ross called me every few days for the months that followed. The calls dwindled to weekly and then a couple of times a month, but he always ended the conversation by saying, “I’m here if you ever need anything, son. Don’t ever forget that.” I really appreciated that. The fact that he cared meant a lot, and still means more to me than he’ll ever know. Over the years he’s became the father figure I’ve never had. The kind of father I’ve been pining for my entire life.

I’ve accomplished so much in the last five years. I learnt at a young age that, with hard work, anything was possible. I owe so much to Jax. With my steady hand and artistic skills, I soon surpassed all his expectations and became his number one artist.

Not only was I working full time at his parlour, I was also doing private jobs after hours at my apartment. I was sensible with my money, just like I had been when I was a kid. Within a year I’d saved enough cash to open my own parlour. ‘Indi Ink’. Yes, I named my place after her. Don’t ask me why. I guess I still wanted her to be a part of my new life. Even if it wasn’t the way I’d like it to be.

I’m the sole owner of ‘Indi Ink’, but I have a second parlour that Jax and I own together. It’s called ‘Wicked Ink’. We’re hoping one day to own a whole chain of them. The way business is booming, I can definitely see that in our future.

Jax and I have stayed close friends over the years. Although he was upset to lose me at his parlour, he didn’t hesitate to help me get set up at ‘Indi Ink’.

Initially, being a tattoo artist was not a path I would’ve chosen if I hadn’t met him. I’m thankful my journey led me to him. I love what I do. One night over a few beers, he told me about a guy he knew that was selling up and getting out of the business. That’s when he asked me if I was interested in a partnership. I jumped at the chance.

Candice run’s ‘Wicked Ink’ for us. Yes, she’s still in the picture, and her hair is still hot pink. I don’t think she’ll ever change it. We never ended up getting together after the night I knocked her back when she snuck into my room, but we’ve become close friends. She helped me to deal with the loss of Indi after I left.

Ross has supported me all the way as well. He even came to the official opening of ‘Indi Ink’. I had no idea he was coming. He never said a word about what I’d named the shop. To this day I still wonder if he knows I named it after his daughter. I guess it’s pretty fucking obvious that I did.

I can’t describe what I felt when he walked through the door that night. It blew my fucking mind. I’m so thankful that he gives a shit. He’s the only male in my life that ever has. He’s told me numerous times how proud he is of me. I fucking love him for that. As far as I know, Indi and my mum have no idea that we’ve stayed in contact all these years.

My mum and I talk on the phone regularly, but I haven’t seen her in the flesh since the day I left. She always invites me home for the holidays, but I use my work commitments as an excuse. Don’t get me wrong I wanted to see her. I fucking miss her like you wouldn’t believe. Her husband though, not so much. If I never had the displeasure of seeing him again, it would’ve been too soon. I would’ve invited her up here to my place. I thought about it a lot, but I didn’t want that Fuckwit tainting my space. My serenity. Thankfully, that’s something I no longer have to worry about. I can’t wait to see her again.

I’ve never asked my mum, or Ross, how Indi’s doing. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t. I guess I was scared. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right? I have no idea what she’s been up to all these years. She could be married with kids for all I know. That thought makes me feel sick to the stomach. I suppose it’s because after all this time she still holds my heart.

Sure there’s been other women since I’ve been gone. I’m not a fucking saint. I never claimed to be. No one serious though. How can you commit to someone when your heart belongs to another? There’s not a day gone by that I haven’t thought of her, missed her.

I hope she’s happy, I really do. If I am honest with myself, I hope she is single and happy, but that’s my selfish side talking. Although the thought of actually seeing her again excites me more than I care to admit, it also scares the crap out of me. I know nothing of her last five years. Not a damn thing. I have no idea what to expect. Ross and I never talked about anything to do with my old life. It was the way I wanted it.

The alternative was just too hard. I couldn’t move on if I was still stuck in the past. He understood that, but the day he helped me move into my apartment, he said, “I hope you know what you’re giving up. I hope you don’t live to regret your decision.” I knew he was referring to Indiana. I think I’ll always regret walking away from her, but I did what I thought was best. For her.

••••

By the time I pull into my old street, I’m feeling nauseous at the thought of being back here again. I’m not even sure if she still lives with her dad. It’s been five long years, but in a way it only seems like yesterday that I held her in my arms. Kissed those delicious fucking lips of hers. I’m sure some lucky bastard has snapped her up. Who wouldn’t? Anyone would be fortunate to have her. She’s the perfect girl. The one I let get away.

Stupid fucker.

My heart skips a beat as I drive up to the house. Wouldn’t you know it, the first thing I see is her. Just my fucking luck. It looks like she’s washing her car. She’s bent over the hood wearing these tiny little denim shorts. That fucking arse. Jesus I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about that arse.

I find it ironic, because the first day I arrived here, her arse was the first thing I saw. Now here I am five years later, and the same fucking thing happens. Déjà vu at its fucking worst. Is the universe trying to fuck with me, or what?

My hands are slightly trembling as I pull into the driveway. My gut is churning. My eyes are trained on her. Please be happy to see me, is my first thought. She straightens up. Her back still to me. When her body stiffens, I know she knows it’s me. The sound of my car probably gave it away.

I still have my Monaro. I’ll never get rid of her. I finally got to finish it. It looks so bad-arse. I fucking love this car. It still has the original Flamenco Red paintwork. I just had it redone. I also kept the black GT stripes on the hood. I replaced the tired old motor with a Blown 350 Chev and a manualised automatic transmission. The interior has been refreshed using a soft black leather. The seats have been recovered in black leather as well, with a red leather stripe through the centre. It has chrome-spoked mags on the fat eighteen-inch tyres. It looks fucking sick. Nothing gets the adrenaline pumping more than being in control of 750HP of pure muscle. I’ve had so many offers to buy this beauty, but I’d never part with her. I’ve spent a small fortune getting her to where she is now, but it was worth every cent. She’s my baby.

Everything seems to slow down as I stay seated in my car staring in her direction. It’s like the world’s suddenly moving in slow motion. She turns. When her eyes meet mine she takes my breath away, literally. Fuck she’s even more beautiful than I remember. Her eyes widen in shock and the sponge in her hand drops to the ground.

I can’t seem to move as I drink her in. My heart is thumping furiously against my ribcage. Fuck I’ve missed those eyes, those lips—her. She hasn’t changed much, just grown. A sixteen year old Indi was beautiful. A twenty-two year old Indi—fucking stunning. My kid is no longer a kid. She’s a sexy-as-hell woman. Drop dead fucking gorgeous.

Only when I manage to pull myself together do I get out of the car. Her eyes are still trained on me. I feel my lips turn up at the corners. Words can’t express how good it feels to see her again in the flesh. I take a step towards her. Her eyes narrow and my smile grows. I’ve missed her spunk, and the attitude that not only pissed me off all those years ago, but turned me the hell on.

“Hey,” I say as I walk towards her. She doesn’t reply. Instead her hands move to her hips and her scowl deepens. I guess after all this time she’s still pissed off with me. I can’t really blame her. “Well look at you,” I add as I bend down and retrieve the sponge she dropped by her feet. As I stand, I can’t hold back the whistle that escapes my mouth as my eyes travel up those sexy, lean legs of hers. It makes my cock twitch. The effect she has on me hasn’t dwindled one bit. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers, better yet, my tongue, up the length of her legs, burying my face in her sweetness. “The kid’s all grown up,” I smirk when my eyes meet hers again.

Fuck me she’s fine.

“I’m not a fucking kid anymore,” she snaps.

Leaning forward so my face is only inches from hers, I whisper, “I can see that.” Her pupils dilate and I hear her breath hitch. I immediately know my effect on her hasn’t diminished either. It takes everything in me not to pull her into my arms and squeeze the fucking life out of her. Why did I leave it so long to see her? Just being near her again makes me feel alive. “It’s good to see you again, Indi.”

“Well, the feeling’s not mutual,” she says frowning. She’s lying, I can tell. Her body language is saying the complete opposite to her words. She’s still a stubborn arse I see. My eyes leave hers and gaze down at her lips. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of those lips over the past five years. Too many to count. I want to kiss her so bad my fucking chest aches. I let my eyes drop a little lower. That’s when I see the necklace I bought her for her seventeenth birthday. I can’t believe she’s still wearing it. It has me smiling like a damn fool. You have no idea what seeing that means to me.

I watch her chest rise and fall as her breathing quickens. She can deny it all she wants, but she’s effected by me. “My eyes are up here, buddy,” she spits. I want to laugh at her comment. I love her smart mouth. I’m glad this part of our relationship hasn’t changed.

Underneath the material of her white top, I can see a hint of her white lace bra covering the swell of her breasts. It gives me an idea. I can’t help myself. I lift the sponge in my hand until it’s hovering over her tits. I hear her gasp when she realises what I’m about to do. I clench my fist tight and the water drips out. It soaks into the fabric of her top, making it transparent. Her nipples harden and so does my cock. Christ. I haven’t even touched her yet and I swear I could break diamonds with this fucker.

Peeling my gaze from her spectacular rack, I make eye contact with her again. I’m feeling quite pleased with myself, but that feeling doesn’t last long. The anger I see in her eyes is not what I’m expecting. When did she lose her sense of humour? I guess I should’ve known from past experience, when it comes to her, I’m playing with fire. Especially since she has five years of pent up anger towards me inside her.

This is one time I’m not anticipating her next move. So when it comes, I’m totally taken by surprise. She raises her right leg slightly and then, BOOM. She knees me fair smack in the nuts. Hard. Jesus fucking Christ.

All the air gushes from my lungs as pain radiates through my whole body. My dick goes instantly limp. Fuck, I think she just killed it. I’m pretty sure my boys are now lodged somewhere in my throat.

A feral, high-pitched sound escapes me as I fall to my knees in agony. “Stay the fuck away from me, arsehole,” she screams as she turns and runs inside.

Somebody call an ambulance. I think I’m gonna die.