Sketch
"I warned you but you didn't listen," Cal Dillon barked as he loomed over my barely breathing body. "You had to go there, didn’t you? You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You kept sniffing around. Touching what wasn’t yours to touch."
"It's not like that," I tried to argue, but another blow to my face had my vision blurring and my mouth filling with blood.
"You will end this farce," Cal roared. "You will finish it with Romi or so help me God, I'll ship her off to a boarding school in Europe and you'll never see her again."
"I love her," I strangled out, wincing when I felt another rib crack. "And she loves me."
"She'll get over it," he sneered, kicking me harder. "As for you? Well, you can do whatever the fuck you want – as long as it's far away from Romi!"
Grunting out in pain, I tried to curl up in a ball to protect my stomach, but two of his heavies held me down, keeping my core exposed and vulnerable to their boss's ferocious onslaught.
"You're nothing, boy," Cal continued, riffling through my wallet like it was his personal property. "Never were. A fucking headcase. You're not good enough to breathe the same air as –" His words trailed off when he snatched the condom out of my wallet. "Have you touched her?" he seethed, face turning a dark shade of red. "Have you fucked my daughter?"
No, I hadn't, but I still refused to answer. What I did or didn’t do with Romi was private. The fact that we had planned to lose our virginities to each other just a few short hours ago felt like a lifetime ago now. She was probably waiting in her room for me right now, confused and worried when I didn’t show. Guilt churned inside of me at the thought.
"Answer me, dammit!" her father roared, kicking me again.
I didn’t answer him.
Spluttering out a mouthful of blood, I glanced up through swollen eyes at my father who was standing off to one-side. His lack of action didn’t surprise me. Nothing surprised me when it came to these people. The man didn’t love me. He didn’t hate me like Mama did, but he wasn't about to jump to my defense, not when it meant going against his best friend.
In a sick way, I understood my father. I had no doubt that I would let him burn at the stake for my best friend.
I, too, would choose my best friend over him every single time.
Too bad my best friend also happened to be the daughter of the man beating me.
Loyalty was a strange thing…
Furious with my lack of response, Cal kicked me again, and then again and again, harder and harder with every slam of his boot.
"Alright, that's enough, Cal," my father finally intervened, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tailored suit pants. "Holden has learned his lesson." Shrugging, he added, "I'm sure my son has received the message loud and clear."
"Holden," Cal sneered, like my name was some big joke to him. "Well, your boy here needs to remember where he ranks in our world, Chris."
"And I've given you the opportunity to teach him," Dad countered calmly. "I don’t have a daughter, but if I did, I can only assume that I would have the same concerns as you. But your time is up, Cal. It's done with. Holden understands. He won't touch Romi again, and, in turn, you won't touch him."
Cal balked. "I'll decide when I'm done –"
"No," my father cut him off, walking towards where I lay on the ground. "I'll decide. Now step away from the boy."
"You were always too soft on him," Cal sneered, glowering at my father. "Grew too attached to something unstable. Spoiling him. Treating him the same as Chris and Romi. You know what his role –"
"Careful now," Dad said coolly, cutting Romi's father off. "Be very careful."
"Don’t even think about putting your filthy hands on her again, do you hear me? She's goddamn royalty compared to your worthless ass," Cal bellowed, quickly turning his attention back to me. "Let him up, gentlemen. Let the boy run to his daddy."
His goons stepped back and I scrambled onto my knees with my heart racing wildly in my chest as I tried to catch my breath.
"Stand up, Holden," my father said, coming to stand beside me. Holding a hand out to me, he dragged me to my feet once I took it and hooked a strong arm around my shoulder. "No more." With his eyes locked on Cal, he said, "That was your only free shot. Touch him again and there will be unfavorable consequences for you and your men."
"I want his word that he won't touch her again," Cal barked, shaking with temper.
"Then ask him for it," my father replied calmly.
"Give me your word that you'll leave her alone," he demanded, glaring at me. "Promise me that you will end your relationship with my daughter."
"Give me yours first," I wheezed out, chest rising and falling quickly as I leaned heavily against my father, staining his custom suit with my blood. "Promise me that you won't send her away."
"Break up with Romi and she gets to stay in Pocketful where she belongs," Cal growled. "But if you come sniffing around again, if you lay one finger on my daughter after this day, she'll be off to Europe before you can blink twice. And if you speak a word of this conversation to her, I'll kill you myself." He glared at me, jaw ticking. "You have my word on all three counts."
"I won't touch her again," I strangled out, coughing up an impressive amount of blood. "Leave Romi alone, let her stay in Pocketful, and you have my word, too. I'll break up with her, I won't lay a finger on her again, but you should know up front that I won't ignore her –"
"You'll do as your damn well told!" he bellowed.
"I. Won't. Ignore. Her," I repeated, breathing labored. "Ain't gonna happen. So, if that's what you're expecting, then you might as well kill me now." Clutching my ribs, I grunted out another pained breath and whispered, "I love your daughter. Always have, always will. I'll do right by her. Right now, doing right by Romi means her staying in Pocketful and being around everything she knows and loves. You don't need my word to know that I won't fuck that up for her. And I love her too much to break her heart by telling her what kind of piece of shit raised her. But if you need my word on that anyway, you have it."
"Your word isn't worth shit to me," Cal sneered, looking at me like I had been thrown out of the pits of hell.
"Yeah, well, it's all I've got," I croaked out, feeling woozy. "So, you'll just have to deal with it..."
"He promised not to send her away," I snarled, pushing the horrible fucking memory to the back of my mind. "He swore he'd leave her alone if I stayed away from her," I added, spitting out the words like poison. "I kept my side of the deal so he needs to keep his."
"Things are different now," Dad replied. "She's friendless and lonely. Regardless of today's events, Cal truly feels that she would be better off away from Pocketful. He's worried about her, and he and Victoria have been talking about it for a while now. Since before she was released from the detention center." Shrugging, he added, "At least in rehab, Romi would be safe. She would be free of the bullies and constant shunning." He gave me a knowing look. "Unless of course someone steps in and persuades him otherwise."
Well shit, how the tides had turned…
"She didn’t fall, did she, Holden?" Dad asked then. "She jumped."
"No," I blurted, heart thudding violently, stunning myself with how quickly I shifted back into the role of her protector. "It was an accident, she fell."
Selfish motives, I assured myself.
It didn’t matter to me that being sent into an institution would be Romi's worst nightmare.
It didn’t matter to me that if she ever returned to Pocketful, people would whisper behind her back and label her as that girl.
I needed her to stay in Pocketful because she was the only person who could give me the truth about what happened to Chris.
I was protecting her for me, not for her.
"Cal is going to ask you the same question," my father warned.
"And I'll give him the same answer," I replied, not backing down. "Because it's the truth."
Dad stared hard at me for the longest moment before nodding his head, accepting my answer.
Good.
He could ask the question a thousand times and in a thousand different ways and that was the only answer he was going to get.
"He'll give her back to you, Holden." Rubbing his jaw, he glanced down at the platinum watch on his wrist before looking at me. "Romi," he clarified – like I didn’t know who he was talking about. "He took her away from you and I know you still resent him for that – and me for not stopping him. You were wise enough to understand that it was for the best at the time, but things have changed now. Chris is gone and you're my heir. Cal sees that. I think he finally understands that keeping you two apart isn't productive in the long term. He might not like you, son, but he has to respect you for keeping your word," he added thoughtfully. "His daughter is an extremely wealthy and vulnerable young woman who needs protecting. He understands that you can to give that to her. Play your cards right and she could be yours again, Holden – this time with her father's blessing."
I stiffened and wanted to scream she was always mine, but my pride refused to allow it. Like a scene in a horror movie, the memory of the day I lost Romi invaded my mind, bringing with it old feelings and reopening old wounds that no amount of time could heal…
With only the thin fabric of my boxers separating our bodies, Romi smiled shyly up at me. From her perch on the flat of her back beneath me, she looked fucking ethereal. Her cheeks were all flushed and her whiskey-colored eyes were wide, pupils dilated.
"Hey," she whispered, chewing on her swollen bottom lip as she hooked her small arms around my neck and let out a sigh of utter satisfaction.
Fuck, she looked adorable after she came.
"Hey." Grinning, I lowered my face and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, thanking God that this girl was reckless enough to cut class with me.
In fact, today's little venture had been all her idea. I went willingly because, God knows, getting naked with Romi Dillon sure beat fifth period trig.
After a successful make out session that consisted of steaming up the tinted windows of my truck and making my girl come twice, I was officially ravenous.
Screw football practice later. I was about ready to blow off the rest of the world and lose myself in my girl instead.
"You doing okay, baby?" Stroking her small nose with mine, I exhaled a ragged breath and resisted the urge to grind my poor, aching dick against her. "Did I make it good for you? "
"Mmm-hmm." A shiver racked through her and then she tugged on my shoulders. "So freaking good, Sketch." I allowed her to guide my face to her neck, but kept my weight off her. My girl was fragile and I wasn't about to squash her.
Resting the majority of my weight on the hand I had firmly planted on the bed of the truck, I nuzzled her neck with my cheek, groaning in a combination of adoration and contentment when she trailed her fingers through my hair. "But I think I might have screamed."
"You think?" Rearing back to look at her, I arched a brow. "There's no thinking about it, Ro. You damn near burst my eardrums."
"Shut up!" She laughed, reaching a hand between us to pinch my nipple. "I wasn't that loud."
My brow rose higher. "Ro, you were screaming out my name so loud that I'd be surprised if they didn’t hear you in Pocketful."
She rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen."
"Says the screamer." I smirked and resumed my post of nuzzling her neck.
"Hey, Sketch?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you, uh…" Romi wriggled beneath me and I felt another small tremor roll through her. "Do you want to do something else?" she finally said.
"Like what?"
"Like…I don’t know, maybe something we haven't done before?"
I stiffened, feeling the sudden surge of blood shoot straight to the crown of my cock.
"You make me feel good all the time," she whispered, hands roaming from my hair to my neck and back up to tangle in my hair. "I just…I want to do the same for you."
"Ro, you don’t have to suck me off to make me feel good," I assured her, lying through my fucking teeth and kicking myself for turning down a potential blow job.
Hand jobs were all well and good, and Romi made fucking magic happen every time she had my dick in her hands, but I was desperate to feel her lips around my shaft.
Still, I held back and stopped myself from voicing my thoughts aloud. I was recklessly in love with this girl, had been since as far back as my memory went, and that made me considerate of her feelings. It made me considerate of every part of her, actually.
I knew the guys on the team were all banging their side-pieces every chance they got, but this girl right here was nobody's side piece. She was a queen. My queen. And I was willing to wait for her.
Hell, I'd managed for this long. What was another year or two in the grand scheme of things? It was no time at all. I could live with hand jobs and dry humping until the time came.
"I'm not talking about sucking your dick, Sketch," Romi shot back, pushing on my forehead to get my attention. "I'm talking about having sex with you."
Now she had my entire attention. "You wanna have sex with me?"
She nodded slowly, eyeing me with wariness. "Unless you don’t want to, and I've just made a complete idiot of myself by bringing it up –"
"No, I do, Romi. I do. I want to have sex with you. Jesus Christ, there's nothing I want more," I blurted out, feeling a trickle of pre-cum leak from my crown at the thought. I was sixteen years old and being propositioned for sex by the only girl I'd ever been with was every teenage boys' fantasy come true.
"But you remember I'm a virgin, right?" I had no fucking clue why that sentence came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Besides, it was the truth. She was the only girl I'd ever even kissed. "I might not be good at it."
"Me too," she whispered, raising up to press her lips to mine. "On both counts."
"I'm serious, Ro." Our lips brushed as I spoke. "I don’t know what I'm doing and the first time is supposed to really hurt for a girl. You've seen the movies. The girl always cries and shit." I shook my head, pained at the thought. "I don’t wanna make you cry, Romi."
"I won't cry," she assured me. "And yeah, it might hurt a little, but I'm tougher than you think, Sketch." She smiled, causing my frown to deepen. "Besides, I trust you." Pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth, she flopped back down on the seat and grinned. "And practice makes perfect."
I exhaled a shaky breath. "You wanna practice with me?"
Her smile widened. "Always only you, Sketch."
Jesus. "I love you." Dropping my brow to rest against hers, I inhaled her scent while I tried to get a handle on my heart. "I really fucking love you, Romi Dillon. You know that, right?"
"I know," she replied, tone soft and sweet. "And I really fucking love you back, Sketch Capaldi."
"So, we're doing this?"
"Yeah." She grinned. "I think we are."
"When?"
"There's no time like the present, I guess," she replied, watching me carefully for a reaction.
I gaped at her. "What, you wanna fuck now?"
Chewing on her lip, she nodded. "I just want to feel you inside me."
"Jesus, you can't say that to me," I warned. "I'm serious. And especially not when I'm inside you or it'll be over before it starts."
"Okay." A small laugh escaped her lips and then she was pushing me off her. "Get dressed and take me home. Daddy won't be there and Mrs. Bane is so deaf that she'll never notice if we're quiet." Pulling her skirt up her hips, she reached for her discarded shirt. "You have a condom in your wallet, right?"
"Of course I have a condom in my – wait. Don’t you want flowers and candles and shit?" I asked, catching my clothes as she threw them at me. "You know, a nice romantic dinner and a night in a fancy hotel?"
"No," she replied, arching a perfectly shaped brow at me. "But it sounds like you might."
"Funny," I shot back, climbing over the seats. "I'm ready if you are. I'm just trying to make sure that you're actually ready and don’t want to do this just because you think it's what I wanna do –" I paused to catch a flying shoe and then its comrade. "I don’t wanna rush you." Tossing my shoes on the floor, I dragged on my school pants and reached for my crumpled shirt, thankful for the tinted windows that allowed us this kind of privacy. "I don’t want you to regret it." Shrugging on my shirt, I hastily snapped the buttons into place and cranked the engine, switching the heater on full blast to clear the condensation from the windshield. "Or me."
"I'm ready," Romi assured me as she tossed my sweater and tie over the console. "I want you and I could never regret you. It's not possible," she added, as she climbed through the seats and took her place beside me. "No fancy hotels or rose petals and cheesy music playing in the background. That's not what we're about," she told me. "I just want us, Sketch. Just you and me. Together. That's all I want." Leaning across the console, she pressed a kiss to my cheek before settling back in her seat. "Forever."
Well shit.
"Okay." Swallowing deeply, I fought the tremor in my hand and put the truck into gear. "We can do that." Taking her hand in mine, I gave it a reassuring squeeze before settling our joined hands on top of the gearstick. "I can give you forever."
"Good," she replied. "Because I'd take it if you didn’t offer."
I smirked. "Oh, you would?"
"Absolutely," she teased. "You're mine, Sketch."
"And you're mine, Ro."
The entire ride back to our houses was spent in a weird, electric silence. We were both thinking about what was about to happen and Romi was still clutching my hand when I parked up outside my house.
"Give me twenty minutes before you come over," she said, unfastening her seatbelt. "I want to get, uh…" Her cheeks flamed. "Freshened up."
"Okay." Nodding slowly, I watched her watch me, my pupils darkening to mirror hers. "Twenty minutes."
"I'll see you then," she whispered, giving my hand one final squeeze before pushing the door open and climbing out. "Oh, and don’t forget to bring the con –"
"I won't forget."
"Okay. Good. That's ah, that's sensible."
"Hey, Romi?"
"Yeah, Sketch?"
"I really do love you."
"I know."
"I just…I wanted you to know that."
"And I do. Now come over in twenty minutes – and don’t be late." She smiled and gave me a shy wave before running off in the direction of her yard…
"I don’t want her back," I told my father, tearing myself away from the memory of my final moments with Romi before I drowned in my depression.
That was a bad fucking day and thinking about how Cal had cornered me in the driveway only made my hackles rise.
The following two weeks I'd spent in this very hospital, avoiding calls from Romi, was worse.
But it was the week after that, the one when I came back to school and had to end things with her, that was the worst of all, and I knew full well that the hurt and betrayal in her eyes when I told her it was over would haunt me until my dying day.
"I got over Romi Dillon a long time ago," I added bitterly. "Right around the time she got under my brother." My hands balled into fists at the thought and that barely concealed hole in my heart scorched and oozed. "I wouldn't take her back now if ya'll paid me."
"Well, you have several months before gradation so you have time to think about it. But whatever you decide romantically, you will drop this vendetta against her," he told me in a tone that left no room for arguing. "And for appearance's sake, you will visit with her before you leave here today."
I stiffened. "And if I don’t?"
My father narrowed his eyes. "Then you'll be on the first flight out to the finest rehabilitation center that money can buy. Where you will receive adequate care and support for your grief and learn the art of forgiveness."
"For the last time, I'm not sick!" I hissed. "And I don’t owe her a goddamn thing."
"No," he agreed. "But you owe it to your brother not to fuck up your life. He's dead and you get to live on for the both of you. So, for fuck's sake, Holden, make it worth it. Don’t drown yourself in bitterness. Stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about what Chris would have wanted." He met me with a hard stare. "And if your brother was here now, I can assure you that he would want you to forgive the girl you both loved. He would want you to move past this and be happy."
His words were like the lash of a whip across my already bleeding heart. It hurt so much because I knew he was right about Chris. He would want me to forgive Romi. That was the kind of guy he was. Kind. Selfless. Loyal.
Problem was, I also knew that no matter how much truth my father had just spoken, I was also right.
"What's it going to be, son?" Dad asked, watching me with shrewd eyes. "Can you forgive her?"
"No," was my honest response. It would never happen. Not in a million years could I forgive her for taking Chris's life away and then lying about the circumstances surrounding his death. "But I can try to be civil."
Dad arched a brow. "Civil?"
"It's more than she deserves," I warned. "More than you or anyone else should ask of me."
"Civil," he repeated again, obviously churning both the word and the act around in his mind. "I suppose it's a start."
"Yeah."