ARROGANT BASTARD (19 page)

The feeling is mutual, and the words are on the tip of my tongue. “These last few months have been the best months of my life.”

“Mine too.” She stands on her toes, lifting her mouth to mine.

I have to have her—now. It’s not carnal; it’s a craving much deeper. My cock swells from her kiss, enhanced from the way her body is pressed against mine. I reach for her pants, unbuckling her jeans and then mine.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is breathless as she pulls from my mouth.

I pull a condom from my wallet and sheath myself before taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs. Waverly climbs onto my lap, lowering herself into me. Her hips rock and circle, her head tilts backward. I grip her hips, guiding her up and down. She’s so fucking tight, her muscles clenching around me with each fluid movement.

There’s an intimate sensuality in her eyes I’ve never seen before, I recognize it the second our eyes meet. And the warmth threading through my veins? That must be what love feels like.

She moans, louder than ever, celebrating the fact that we don’t have to muffle ourselves here because the party inside drowns out our passionate sounds. And then she calls my name, gripping my shoulders as she rocks back and forth. She runs her tongue along the length of her bottom lip, her eyes shut tight.

I feel the buildup in the base of my cock, spreading to the tip, seconds away from exploding. Her body tenses as her fingers dig into me, and she rides me harder, faster. My release is urgent, hot, and her body clenches around my cock as she breathes my name once more.

She collapses, her head on my shoulder as our chests rise and fall against one another.

That time was different.

I’m going to tell her I love her. Maybe not right now. But I will. Because I do.

I fucking love Waverly Miller.

“Waverly, wake up.” There’s panic in his voice. My face is warm, my eyelids the color of warm amber. I blink, rubbing my eyes.

And then I panic. “Jensen!”

It’s daylight. We’re lying on the floor of the balcony where we passed out the night before.

“Oh, my God. Shit. Shit. Shit!” I’ve never said any of those words before, and now I don’t even care that I’ve said them. My mind spins in tandem with my churning stomach.

“Mark’s going to murder us.” Jensen’s tone is more matter-of-fact than urgent as he pulls me up and then pats his pockets for his keys. We slip inside the apartment, out the door, and spring down the stairs, two at a time.

I’m not sure why we’re in such a hurry. It’s not like getting home any faster will save us from what’s about to happen. If anything we should be taking our time, prolonging the unavoidable punishment my father will fling our way.

It’s going to be bad.

It’s going to be really, really, really bad.

Jensen starts up his truck, wiping the condensation off the glass with the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t seem scared, but I know better. He should be terrified.

We endure the silent drive across town, neither of us saying a word until we pull up in front of the main house.

“Okay,” Jensen says. “Here’s what we’re going to say.”

My mouth is dry, my tongue smacking against the inside, but I can still taste last night’s beer. “Let’s just be honest and truthful.”

“That’s the worst fucking thing we can do right now.” He shakes his head, shutting off his engine. “I coerced you into hanging out with Liberty last night. We watched a movie. We fell asleep. Liberty will cover for us.”

“Yeah, but we smell like cigarettes and alcohol.”

Jensen pops his glove box, and mists me with some kind of body spray neutralizer before handing me a pack of gum.

“They’re not going to believe us,” I say, shoving the mint gum into my mouth.

“This is the best shot we have.” He peers over my shoulder, looking into the house. “And there he is.”

I turn around, seeing my dad standing in the front door, his hands on his hips, and his face wearing the chilliest expression I’ve ever seen. My stomach drops clear to the floor, and I’m two seconds from telling Jensen to just drive. I wish more than anything we could just stay in the car, drive away, and never look back.

“Let’s do this.” Jensen has a warrior mentality. He’s fearless. Always ready for battle. He saves people. He defends the defenseless.

But I’m positive he can’t save me right now.

Any hope I had of redeeming myself, any optimism I held for my future… gone.

We climb out of the truck and death march toward the front door, following my silent father inside. It’s past breakfast and the younger kids play quietly in the family room. Without saying a word, we head straight to the dining room.

Mom, Summer, and Kath are seated in the dining room, their hands folded neatly, their faces bleak and their eyes holding fear. They’re not afraid for my punishment, though—they’re afraid for my soul. Whatever retribution my father deems appropriate is going to be okay with them. I can see it on their faces.

The fact that my father has said zero words is an alarming testament to the fact that he’s beyond his breaking point. His anger subsided long before we arrived home, and it has evolved into a disturbing, quiet rage.

“I’m not going to ask where you were last night.” His statement throws a slight wrench in our plan. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you disobeyed me. You disrespected the house rules, and you disgraced Heavenly Father.”

My mothers are silent, judging us like a jury bred to side with the prosecution.

“From now until graduation, Jensen, you are to stay in Kath’s house. You will eat, sleep, and shower there. You are not to set foot near the main house, or Waverly, ever again.” My father’s voice booms, echoing through the dining room. I peer over his shoulder for only a moment to see Bellamy hiding around the corner, listening in. “You will look me in the eye at all times, Waverly.”

My eyes dart to my father’s, which are intensely stormy and send an uncontrollable shake to my fingers.

“Jensen, you are to pack your things and leave within the next forty-eight hours. You cannot stay here any longer. We have shown you kindness, hospitality, and generosity, and you have repaid us by leaving a squall in your path of unrighteousness and demonstrating blatant disrespect.”

I pull in deep breath after deep breath. This isn’t so bad. We’re both adults. We’ll figure out a way to be together again. I’m quite positive Jensen’s silently plotting how to carefully extract me out of the house along with him. Forty-eight hours from now, we’ll both be long gone.

“Kath, kindly take
your
son to your house,” my father grits. “He is not to set foot in this house ever again. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mark.” Kath stands up, tapping Jensen’s arm and motioning for him to follow.

Jensen’s dark eyes lock in mine, and then his lips curl into an arrogant smile, one that assures me he’ll absolutely defy my father’s wishes.

Jensen loves me, even if he can’t say it, and I think my father knows. I think he knew long before either of us did. He saw it written on our faces before we had a chance to acknowledge any of it.

The click of the sliding door tells us Jensen and Kath are gone. I miss his presence already. He grounds me, gives me something to cling to when I’ve nothing else.

“And as for you.” My father’s words come from a dark place, his hands splayed on the table before me. He lowers his face to mine. “There’s only one solution for my wayward daughter.”

I tremble, weighed down by his fierce stare.

“You’re endangering your virtue, Waverly. You need to be controlled. If I can’t control you, then…” His lips tighten as he pauses. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Not yet.”

I know. I know in the deepest, darkest part of my soul. My eyes dart to my mother, silently pleading with her to stop this and ignoring every part of me that knows she holds no weight in this household.

“Your marriage has been arranged. Your husband has been chosen for you.” My father speaks like a judge, sentencing me to life in prison with no possibility of parole.

“No!” My voice is a shrill shriek, which I hardly recognize as my own.

He places his finger in the air to silence me. “Waverly, this is enough. You need to keep sweet and know that I am doing what’s best for you.”

“I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t. I can’t marry someone. Let me graduate from college first.” I’m pleading, desperate and frantic, losing any ounce of sweetness I once had. “I’m supposed to go to Utah. You said if-if I get a scholarship, I could go. I don’t want to get married yet, I—”

“Silence.” He raises his hand, threatening to slap my mouth into muteness. “The decision has been made. Bellamy will drive you. You’re to pack immediately. The car is fueled and ready for the drive.”

My sister appears from around the corner, like she’d been waiting for this moment. Her blank expression tries to hide her co-conspirator smugness, but I see it in her eyes. She’s known about this all along.

“You fucking traitor.”

I’ve never uttered words like that in my father’s house before. I brace myself for a slap across the mouth that never comes. I shut my eyes, recalling how it felt several years back when I’d accidentally broken a cherished vase that once belonged to my father’s grandmother. I lied about it, received five open-handed slaps across the mouth, solitary confinement for twenty-four hours, and extra chores for a month. Swearing in my father’s house is way worse than lying.

But the slap never comes.

My eyes peel apart. My father still stands before me. Unmoving.

I straighten my shoulders. “I want to talk to Jensen. I have to tell him goodbye. You have to let me see him.”

If we’re leaving immediately, I won’t have time to conspire with Jensen. How will I find him? How will he find me?

All this time, my father was laying low, waiting for one single lapse in judgment. Waiting patiently for me to slip up just once. He thrives off these opportunities, probably thrilled to be able to teach me a lesson and make me submit one last time. He lives to remind us all he’s in control.

I hadn’t even tasted freedom before it was all washed away. Jensen was right. Everything was an illusion all along.

I succumb to hysterics, copious tears I didn’t know I was crying stream down my cheeks and fall into the table below. My face is red, puffy, and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, though I’m not sure what I’m saying anymore.

“I’m sorry, Waverly,” Bellamy says, her arms folded and her demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will. This is for the best, really. It won’t be so bad.”

I hate her. I hate my sister. I will hate her the rest of my days.

“Jane,” my dad says, “take Waverly to pack her belongings. The car is leaving in thirty minutes.”

“No, no, no, no…” I wail, flailing as my mother pulls me up the stairs. We get to my room, where a suitcase is sitting open-faced on my bed. “I’m not going, Mom. You can’t make me go. Don’t do this. Please. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She ignores my pleas as she rifles through my drawers and closet, pulling clothes and neatly packing them into the suitcase as if I’m going on a pleasant little vacation.

“Brigham Young said that all women must submit to their husbands.” My mother breaks her silence with a convenient quote. “God gives husbands the wisdom and ability to lead us into his presence. We must trust our husbands to lead us on the righteous path so that we may gain entrance into the kingdom of Heaven. It’s the only way, Waverly.”

She zips my suitcase and stands before me. She’s never been a touchy feely kind of mother, but her hand cups my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. It’s only fitting that the first and only time my mother shows tenderness toward me is going to be the last.

“We’re doing this because we love you,” she says. Her lips form a pained smile. I don’t think she wants to send me away, but she doesn’t believe she has a choice. “Build up your husband by being submissive. He will take care of you for all of your days.”

I shake my head, refusing to believe this is real life. I pray it’s a bad dream, that I’ll wake up any second now.

“Your husband’s name is Harold McGill. You’ll be his sixth wife. He’s an extremely prosperous businessman with a lot of land and resources in South Dakota. He’ll take good care of you. He’s taken in wayward daughters before, and they’ve grown up to become perfect AUB wives.” My mother speaks as if I’ve won the jackpot of prospective husbands.

Bellamy slips into the room. “The car’s ready to go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

I refuse to look at her, so I stare down at the blue carpet that’s covered my room for as long as I can remember. It’ll be the last time I ever see it, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Bellamy escorts me downstairs where my father and Summer stand by the front door to see me off. I don’t meet their gazes. I didn’t know it was possible for love to just vanish into thin air the way it has just now. Family bonds are supposed to be unbreakable, and if that’s the case, these people aren’t my family.

I stop before my father, staring over his shoulder just enough that he knows I can’t look him in the eye. “I never want to see you again.”

Summer gasps. “Waverly, don’t say such things.”

My eyes finally shift into my father’s. I say the one thing I know will hurt him the most. “You’re dead to me.”

My father doesn’t flinch or react. He extracts a heavy breath from the air, his shoulders as firm as his belief system. I’m sure he’s justifying this decision six ways from Sunday in his mind, believing this is all for the greater good. He probably thinks he’s saving my soul, and if that’s the case, there’s absolutely no changing his mind.

“I never want to see any of you ever again.” I spit my words at them, pointing my finger, my gaze darting from Dad and Summer to Mom. Their stares are weighted with pity and prayers. I can practically feel them saying silent prayers for my soul, asking Heavenly Father to forgive me for not knowing better and to forgive them for years of failed teachings. “Go to Hell. All of you.”