Wish I May (39 page)

L
AST NIGHT,
I did something I’ve wanted to do for seven years. I told my story to the police. The whole thing. From my mom’s drug addiction to the loan I took from Anthony to how I came to meet and marry Brandon McHugh to why I shot him.

Okay, I did two things I’ve wanted to do for seven years. I told the police my story and I shot the bastard who thought I was something that could be bought.

Honestly, once I’d told my whole story, I think the detectives were surprised I didn’t aim for center mass when I found Drew in his hotel room.

Brandon will be going back to prison. There was already a warrant for his arrest in Nevada, and he had all sorts of drugs in his hotel room. I don’t know too many details. I don’t care about anything but the fact that Drew is safe, and I managed to get away from Brandon without killing him.

When the police cruiser drops me off at Dad’s, the sun is starting to rise. The first thing I do is look for Drew. She’s sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around her middle, and I sink down next to her and pull her tight against me.

The silence is sweet, and I’m scared to break it. When the police came, they separated us for questioning, so I didn’t get to ask any questions.

Right here, in this quiet moment, I am blissfully ignorant of what happened to her before I got to the hotel room. I almost don’t want her to speak, as if me not hearing the truth could save her from it. But that only works one way, and tonight it’s Drew that needs saving.

“I’m going to ask you questions, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“You’re going to be so mad at me,” she whispers. It’s dark in the living room, the morning sun just now starting to show her head outside our windows. I can barely make out the tear streaks that glow against her perfectly smooth skin.

“What’s done is done, Drew. I need to know some things.”

“Okay.”

I take a breath. It feels like the first I’ve taken in days. My chest is still tight with panic. Even with Drew next to me—safe—it’s still hard to breathe. “Are you hurt?”

“He slapped me. Shoved me a little. But I’m okay.”

My squeeze my eyes shut. Questions are screaming through my brain at a hundred miles an hour.
Why did you go to a hotel room with him? Why did you lie to me? What were you thinking?
I have to push them all aside.
Triage.
“Did he rape you?”

She spins to me. Her eyes are big and her red-painted mouth is slack, her cheeks smeared with mascara. She looks so young. Like a child caught playing in her mother’s makeup.

“I need to know, Drew.” But more, she needs to tell it. I can’t have a dark secret eating my sister from the inside, not when I know the kind of damage that can do.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she tugs at her too-short skirt. I recognize the outfit as the one Brandon had me wear the first night he had sex with me. God help me, he was trying to recreate that night with Drew. “No. He didn’t touch me. He kissed me. Groped me over my clothes a little. But I cried and that pissed him off. He didn’t have a chance to do anything else.”

Thank you, dear God.
Something loosens in my chest and I can breathe a little deeper. “That’s good. That’s so good.”

“I was so scared, Cally. I know that’s what he planned.” Her words are muffled by her sobs. “I thought that maybe I should do it, you know. He said he wanted to help us. To save me, to save our house. I just had to be—” She hiccups out a sob. “I just had to be his good girl. But I couldn’t….”

“Never!” I force myself to relax, force my voice to quiet. I could scream at her. Scold her. Tell her how stupid that was. And maybe I’ll do all of that. Another day. When my heart isn’t so completely pulverized. “You don’t ever sacrifice yourself like that. You are worth more than a pretty dress. More than a meal on the table. More than a house. You hear me? Never forget what you’re worth.” It hurts so much to have this conversation that I almost want to ask her to stop. Instead, I reach over, and grab her hand from where she’s fidgeting with her skirt. I lace our fingers together, and I squeeze. “There are some parts of yourself that, once you sell, you can never get back.”

“Are you in trouble? For shooting him?”

“Not much.” I’ll have to go before a judge, but my lawyer didn’t think I’d have to do much beyond some community service hours for the illegal handgun.

“I should have listened to you. You told me to stay away from him.”

“Shh.” I pull her against my chest and stroke her hair. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

Cally’s leaving. I keep repeating the words to myself, as if maybe that will make them finally sink in.

She’s here now. I can hear her in the apartment upstairs. But she’s leaving.

I turn off the gallery lights and lock the door. When I went to Indianapolis last night, they were questioning her and wouldn’t let me see her. Then this morning when I went to her dad’s place, the trunk of her car was open and suitcases were piled inside. I tried not to panic, but Maggie heard her on the phone canceling her appointments for next week, and I can’t deny the truth anymore.
She’s leaving.

I need to see her before she goes. Feel her. Taste her. I need to make sure I never forget her.

I catch her in the massage room.

“Are you okay?” My voice is rough, as battered as my heart and body.

“I’m fine.” She gives me a soft smile but it falls away when I push her against the wall. “Well, hello to you too.”

Pushing close, I spread her legs with my knee until she’s positioned against my thigh.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, sliding her hands into my hair. “For everything.”

I open my mouth against her neck and suck, not caring that it will leave a mark. I’m desperate to chase away the gnawing pain I’ve felt since Brandon called her his wife, to wash away the horror I felt at reading the file Carl put together. When I think about her selling her body to someone, when I think how bad things must have been to make her resort to that, I want to punch something. I want another shot at Brandon.

I grip the bottom of her shirt in both hands and pull it off over her head before shoving her pants from her hips.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Please. I need you.” But then I drop to my knees and press my open mouth against the cotton polka dots of her underwear, and she stops talking altogether.

I slide my tongue against her panties, saturating them with my tongue as my hands find their way up the back of her thighs and take an ass cheek in each hand.

“Oh my God.”

Repositioning my mouth right over her clit, I suck at her through the cotton. Her hands are in my hair, pulling as her hips rock instinctively toward my mouth.

I grab her wrists and position them at her sides, holding them there as I kiss my way up her body.

Her eyes are on me, dark and smoky with need, and I draw her hands from her sides to above her head, where I shackle them with one of mine.

She’s so fucking gorgeous in a lacy pink bra and polka dot panties, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath from my assault.

I can’t resist those perfect lips, so I press my mouth to hers, slide our tongues together until she’s rocking into my thigh again.

“I’m going to release your hands, but I want you to leave them above your head.”

Her dark eyes go smoky with approval as I pop open the front release on her bra. Her breasts fill my hands and I lower my head, drawing her nipple into my mouth, toying with it with my tongue, then teeth. She cries out and her fingers tug on my hair, forcing me to stop too soon.

“Hands above your head,” I order. Heat flashes in her eyes as she obeys, and I return to her neck, trailing my mouth over the sensitive bit of flesh under her ear and down to her collarbone. I flatten my palm against her stomach and fan my fingers over her hipbones, my thumb over the ring in her navel.

“Turn to face the wall,” I command.

She obeys without question and leaves her hands above her head as I explore the bare skin of her back with my hands and then my mouth. She obeys me completely with her stillness as I explore her. As I trail kisses down her spine, I slide off her panties. With one hand around her hip, I slide the other between her legs.

“Slide your legs apart for me.”

She leans into the wall and does as I ask, arching enough to expose her sweet sex to me.

“
Jesus.
You’re so damn beautiful.” I cup her with my hand, using my fingers to tease her as I scrape my teeth over one ass cheek then the other.

She whimpers, and I drive two fingers inside of her, curling them until her legs are unsteady and her muscles are flexing. When she’s close, I open my mouth to that sensitive spot just at the base of her spine and suck until she’s coming apart on my hand.