Beyond the Stix (Warrior Black #2)

Chapter 10

TEN

Connor

I woke just after four in the morning, feeling off-kilter, but from the realization of what I did with John last night. I fucked him. My bodyguard.

Me. I didn’t give John a choice… Well, I don’t think I did.

After I told Mom we had to leave, I grabbed a bottle from Dad’s liquor stash on the way to my room. The whiskey gave me the courage, but it was my desire to have this man inside me that was the deciding factor. And I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

It had to be that John felt sorry for me.

Connor could have been molested by his uncle, so I will have sex with him.

Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell is wrong with me? I know for a fact that John isn’t the type of guy to have sex with me because he was sorry for what happened when I was a kid. No, he had sex because he wanted it. Or he gave in to my paltry pleading.

No matter, it’s done. I can’t worry about it. It’s not like we’re going to date like Danny and Tobias.

“Fuck,” I hiss, as the soreness in my ass reminds me of the dilemma my decision put me in. Don’t get me wrong, the fucking was mind-blowing, and it made me forget for a little while about my reality.

But this wasn’t like the jack-off session that I could pass off as nothing. No. I crossed the line. A line John silently put forth months ago. I’m not going to deny the fact that he chased away the sorrow from losing Dad. And the nightmares of my uncle that have been continually plaguing me didn’t rear up last night in my dreams.

Sleeping with John may have been about more than just about sex for me. However, it’s different for John. Especially now, with the truth about my past with my uncle.

I can’t deny that it’s a complicated situation, particularly when my growing feelings for John are mingled in. After all the back-and-forth reasoning, I finally admit that I can’t keep lying to myself. I’m falling for John. Hard.

That startling realization has me freaking out. I silently move out of the cocoon created by his solid heat and slink back into my cold bed. But I don’t lay there long. I end up showering, to wash off the cum that has dried on my stomach and chest.

After cleaning up, I dress and start packing my things. No matter what I do, though, I can’t keep John and the way he made me feel out of my head.

Not wanting to dwell on what happened between us, I fall back in bed, hoping to get a few hours of shut eye before we have to leave, but sleep eludes me. So, I lay there trying to figure out what to do until my phone pings with a text message.

My heart jumps at the idea that it might be John, and that he wants me back in his bed. I quickly pick up the phone from the night stand and glance at the screen, my breath tripping up as aggravation pools in my gut at who has actually texted me.

Jessup: Are you up?

I stare at the three words for several long minutes, not sure what to say—or if I should even answer the text.

My mind has been repeatedly going over what he said to me yesterday in the washroom. Could it be true? Could I have been wrong, all this entire time?

What a vicious circle—the truths I know and the possible misguided memories my brain is weaving.

I hear a shower start, which jolts me out of my thoughts. I’m too damn tired to think more about it, drop my phone on the mattress, and close my eyes. It’s time for a new number.

That’s the last thought I had before I wake up and see it’s eight in the morning. I get up and brush my teeth again and then grab my stuff. With my duffle in hand, I walk into the kitchen, thinking to find my mother. Instead, I find my bodyguard. John is freshly showered, and sipping on coffee in a to-go cup.

“I need a new number,” I say in lieu of a greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” he says, but the look in his eyes is more like Are you okay? I’m beginning to hate that question.

I drop my duffle onto the counter, ready to tell John don’t worry about me, when my mother walks in, cutting me off. “Good morning, sweetie. Here.” She hands me a to-go cup, and then two brown paper sacks.

“What’s this?” I ask, placing the paper bags down on the counter and taking a sip of my coffee.

“There are sandwiches and some snacks for the road,” she explains with a smile that doesn’t reach her watery eyes. “And don’t fuss for leaving early. I know you have responsibilities. I’ll be fine and I have your number just in case.” She hugs me.

“I’m changing my number,” I admit.

“She has my number, in case she can’t get a hold of you,” John says, drinking his coffee, his eyes never wavering from my face.

“Thank you, John.” She pulls away and rounds the counter to give him a hug. John freezes as she wraps her arms around his middle. “You take care of him. He’s all I have now.”

My mother’s words knock the breath out of me. No truer words have been spoken.

“I will.” John releases her and steps back. He clears his throat and says, “I’m going to check Tobias’s ETA.” After his quick goodbye to Mom, he grabs my duffle, and walks out of the house.

“Mom.” I reach her side. “Maybe I should?—”

“No.” She cuts me off and shakes her head. “I mean it, Connor. I’ll be fine. Focus on your career. Your father wouldn’t want you to stop your life for him.”

“What about you?” I insist, the familiar knot forming in the back of my throat. I hate the idea of leaving so soon after we buried my father. I know my mother is strong, but… maybe I’m not. Though, I won’t verbalize that.

“I have my friends, Connor. My church. And I told you I’ll be fine.” She retrieves the paper sacks on the counter and hands them to me, then curls an arm into my mine. “Now, let me walk you out.”

For a brief moment, while stepping out of the house with the bags in my hand, I feel like I’m heading to grade school, and she’s walking me to the bus stop. I shake off the goofy and sentimental thought, and watch two black SUVs pull up into the driveway.

“What about the car you drove here?” my mother asks John, who’s putting my bag in the back of the vehicle Tobias is standing by.

“Don’t worry, the rental place will pick it up later today,” Tobias answers before getting into the driver’s seat.

“I’ll call you when I get a new number,” I say with one more hug and a kiss to her cheek. Then I stride to the vehicle where John has the back passenger door open for me. I get in and John closes the door before climbing into the front passenger seat.

I settle in the back, next to Danny, who’s slathering his lips with his lip gloss, nervous anxiety pinching his face.

Well, that’s different from the normal lip balm he uses. But I don’t ask.

With a wave for my mother, Tobias backs out of the driveway and takes off toward the airport.

For a moment, the silence in the vehicle is bearing down on me, and I can’t take it. I lean into Danny and whisper, “What’s wrong?”

He meets my eyes, and then quickly looks away like he’s afraid to verbalize what’s in his head.

“Danny.” I grip his forearm. “Talk to me.”

I glance John’s way for answers, but his eyes are on Tobias, who’s keeping his attention on the road.

“Spill,” I demand, tightening my grip on my friend’s arm.

“Ron called me this morning. He got some bad news yesterday,” Danny explains.

“Bad news?” This time, I let go of Danny’s hand and shift in my seat to give him my full attention.

“Ron is stepping down as our manager.” Tears are slipping down Danny’s cheeks.

I furrow my brows at the news. “Why?”

“He has colon cancer, Connor. It was confirmed yesterday.”

“Fuck,” slips past my lips. “God-fucking-damn-it.” I throw my head back and close my eyes. “What else could go wrong? Does everyone know?”

“Apparently, it’s aggressive.”

“Does everyone know?”

Danny nods. “The guys were present when Ron called me. Connor, Ron wants this Rocktoberfest to be to a good one, since…” Danny doesn’t finish his sentence. I know what he’s implying.

I swallow hard, look at my friend and agree. For the rest of the ride to the airport, the four of us remain quiet. First my father dies, then my uncle won’t leave me alone, and now the news of Ron… I hate to think what’s next for us.