Disorder by J.L. Weil

Chapter Seventeen

There was nothing fucking scarier than seeing a man’s face in your window at night. A scream rose in my throat, seconds away from shrilling throughout the dark room. My first thought was someone was trying to break in or Carter was snooping around. Tucked inside my bed, I swallowed the cry for help, the guy’s face coming into focus.

My speeding heart went from racing in fear to skipping with excitement. “Brock?” I mumbled, squinting through the dark. Unfolding myself from the tangle of sheets and downy comforter, I padded over to the balcony doors. “Are you insane? How did you get past security?” I asked through the glass.

He glowered from the other side. “Firefly, open the door.”

I quickly fumbled with the lock, sliding the door open. Startling aqua eyes ensnared mine, and before he finished walking over the threshold, I was on him. I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps it was the sudden surge of fright to realizing there was no danger at all. Well, not the kind that would stab me a million times and then toss my body into the pool. Maybe it was the separation from Brock. Or knowing he was with Ava during the day and probably nights too. The uncontrollable urge to possess him rushed over me.

Lifting on my toes, I drove my fingers into his hair as my lips sought his in the dark. I wasn’t thinking, because if I had been in my right mind, I wouldn’t have kissed someone who was possibly kissing my enemy, no matter the reasons behind those kisses.

But the only thing on my mind was how much I needed to remind him that I was real. That this thing between us that took control over us both couldn’t be denied or shoved aside. I wanted him to forget Ava existed. I wanted him to claim me, to possess me, to scream my name, to…

I couldn’t dare think l-o-v-e.

So I kissed him like my life depended on it, and in a way, it felt like it did. Kissing Brock was one of the things in my life that felt real. Despite all the drama surrounding us, when we were alone, just him and me, nothing else mattered. The games, the lies, the disorder all stripped away, leaving just the two of us.

He couldn’t fake this, not with me.

And whether he was ready to admit it or not, there was something between us. I could no longer lie to myself. He was like a drug I had no intention of kicking my addiction to.

Brock nipped at my lower lip until I parted for him. He slid his tongue between my lips, caressing my tongue, tasting, teasing me. My mouth opened wider as I angled my head to the side, kissing him deeper and longer. His tongue stroked over mine, inch by inch, and he moaned into my mouth.

I slowly ended the kiss but stayed wrapped up in him. “You liked living with me,” I murmured, our faces still so close, we shared breath.

He tilted his head to the side, his gaze roaming over my face and lingering over my lips. “What gives you that idea?”

“This,” I said, kissing him again. Heat flared through me, warming every corner of my body.

His hands moved to my hips, guiding me deeper into the room, toward the bed. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Yes,” I breathed, attacking the button on his jeans.

“But your—”

I gave him a feline smile and tugged his ass to the edge of the bed. I sat down on the mattress, slipping my fingers into boxers. “Is asleep.”

“Josie—”

“I need you.” My fingers closed around him, freeing him the confines of his open jeans and boxers.

God, he was big, so hard. And I wanted him. Now.

I dipped my head, but right before I wrapped my mouth around the tip of him, I glanced up. His eyes burned like glowing stars as he glanced down at me. “I want to taste you,” I whispered, letting my warm breath brushing over his erection. My fingers stroked down the length of him as my mouth finally closed over him.

His head fell back, fingers twisting into my hair. “Fuck,” he hissed, coming out in a partial groan.

I squeezed him, my hand tightening while sucking him into my mouth. He was so silky and smooth, yet hard as steel. The muscles in his legs tightened, and a shudder rolled through him, sending need burning into me.

His breathing became ragged, and I smiled, stroking him again as my tongue rubbed over the tip of him. “I need to be inside you,” he growled, pulling my head back. He hooked a finger into the side strap on my panties, wiggling them down over my hips.

I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, staring at him from under heavy-lidded eyes. Brock picked me up by my hips, dropping onto the middle of the bed. And then he was on top of me, his weight sinking into me. The muscles on his back trembling as pulled out a condom and wrestled with the wrapper open with his teeth. Once it was securely in place, he pressed himself in between my legs. “Fuck, I missed you, Firefly,” he moaned.

The broad tip nudged at my opening, finding me wet and ready for him. I pushed my hips down slightly, pleading with him to bury himself into me.

He entered in slowly and just an inch. It wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. I clamped around him, my body arching into his.

His mouth fastened over mine, devouring me. I melted like ice on a hot summer day as he filled me completely.

He made lazy circles over the small of my back as I lay naked in his arms, gazing at the intricate ink tattooed on his body. “This isn’t why I came, you know.”

My lips twitched. “I know. But I’m glad you came. Literally.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against my chest. “Funny.” He adjusted his head on the pillow, a comfortable silence falling between us. My body still buzzed from the pleasure Brock gave me. “I’m not sleeping with her. I want you to know,” he said, killing that lingering tingle.

I lifted my head, staring down into his face, my palm lying flat on his chest. “Are you really thinking about her after we just…”

He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “No, the point is, I’m only thinking about you. Even though it might not seem like it or my methods conventional, in the end, Firefly, it’s you.”

My heart pounded. This was my chance to tell him how I felt. “I know we said this between us was casual.”

“About that… I’ve never been in a relationship, not the kind you want or deserve. I’m going to fuck this up.”

I searched his face, my hand coming to cup his cheek. “I don’t care. I come from the most fucked-up family. I’m willing to bet my heart on you.”

He shook his head, and I could see the doubts that lived in his eyes, but he only brought my head down for a kiss.

I fell asleep on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. I never imagined I’d be able to find a shred of happiness in such a gloomy time in my life. Brock became the person who grounded me, who sheltered me and completed me. Never in a million years would I have believed someone like him would choose someone like me. It didn’t make sense. And yet, everything about us fit perfectly. We both had our fucked-up lives that somehow interconnected, locking us together.

I’m falling in love with you. The words whispered in my head. At least, I thought they were in my head. I was too tired to care.

* * *

I had this plan that involved me waking up and smothering Brock with kisses, thanking him for last night, for staying with me. I had needed him. The only time I ever slept anymore was when he was near. Last night had been no different—except for the part in the middle of the night when he had roused me out of sleep with his fingers. I had woken up on the verge of an orgasm, disorientated and horny as hell. A whimper of pleasure had escaped before I even opened my eyes, my center contracting around his index and middle finger as he stroked the orgasm from me.

I had groaned when he pulled out, the waves still rocking through me, but seconds later, he replaced his fingers with his cock, filling me completely. And the pleasure started over again, more deeply, more intense.

Afterward, I had fallen instantly back into a deep, satisfying slumber, a smirk on my lips, tucked tight in his arms.

I should have known… my plans never work out. The idea of waking him similarly this morning seemed like sweet revenge. Instead, I barely had time to register that I was coming out of a glorious dream involving Brock in an interesting position when I was jostled and tossed on the mattress. Grumbling, I shoved the hair out of my face, my mind trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

I opened my eyes, a flash of Brock’s bare ass streaking past the bed as he bent down, collecting his clothes and dashing out the balcony doors without so much as a kiss goodbye.

WTF.

I blinked, a new thought entering my brain.

OMG. Brock is running around my backyard buck-ass naked.I imagined my neighbors were getting more than they bargained for with their morning coffee.

If my bedroom door hadn’t flown open a second later, I would have broken out into hysterics. Angie stood in the doorway, her eyes finding me in bed. She then panned the room, searching for something or someone. Holy shit. That had been close. If she had found Brock in my bed…

I shuddered to think what kind of psycho would have emerged from her. “Knock, much?” I snapped, tugging the blanket close to my neck, seeing as I was utterly naked.

She schooled her expression, disregarding my tone. “I thought I heard something.”

“I was on the phone with Ainsley,” I lied, doing my best to avoid the slightly parted glass door, not wanting to draw her attention to the balcony.

With her chin high, she leaned a shoulder on the doorframe, crossing a foot over the other ankle. “How long are you going to be angry with me?”

I glared. “Forever. What you did… it’s unforgivable.” I wasn’t just talking about ripping me from Easton or having the Lexus impounded. The majority of my disgust was born from the knowledge that she had stolen me.

“Since when is loving and caring for my daughter a crime?” she countered.

Anyone who looked at Angie would see a put-together woman, but I could see that she was lonely and unhappy. The difference was, I didn’t give a fuck. The woman had what she always wanted—the money, the cars, the house, the staff, the husband. Everything Easton could never give her, everything she dreamed about. And yet, she was still miserable.

It didn’t take a shrink to tell me that Angie would be chasing happiness her entire life. She couldn’t love and accept herself, let alone the people that should be important in her life.

My fingers curled around the comforter. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of a daughter,” I hurled at her.

She flinched and took a visible step back like I’d hurt her. “How can you say such a cruel thing?”

I ran a hand through my disheveled pink hair. “Because you forced me to come home when you know I don’t want to be here. You threatened to have Dad charged with harboring a fugitive. I’m his daughter! I’m tired of pretending.”

“Pretend?” she echoed, her voice pitching. “Is that what you’re doing? Pretending to be my daughter?”

“I thought that’s what we were both doing in this house. You pretending to be an important, rich housewife, and me… Actually, I no longer give a shit. The pretending stops. I’m done. You don’t believe me when I tell you what’s happening right under your nose. You don’t seem to care about my safety. You let Ava into this house, the same girl that beat the crap out of me. This feels like a joke. A dream. That’s it. I’m still dreaming and this is some warped alternate reality like I’m stuck in a funhouse, the with all the mirrors.” I was staring at million reflections of my life, all of them wrong.

Her eyes darkened. “You’re being dramatic as usual.”

“And you’re being a bitch as usual.” If Angie was my actual mother and not a liar and a kidnapper, I might have felt bad about calling her a bitch.

Her pretty features contorted into something ugly. “At some time, you’re going to have to accept this family.” She whirled to leave back the way she came.

“Not likely,” I muttered to her back.

Boom. The door slammed closed, the sound echoing through the house. I swore the frame splintered from the force of the impact.

But at least I was alone, no longer in her presence, and I sat in bed, wondering if the rage I felt would ever subside. Would I ever be able to forgive the women who had raised me? Look at her again without being filled with contempt? I had loved her. Loved her still…?

Perhaps that was part of where all the anger stemmed from. A part of me still loved the woman who raised me, no matter how shitty of an effort she put into it.

The mood for the day had been set and only continued to grow gloomier. I missed my friends. I missed the Elite. I missed Brock.

Lightning cracked, flashing the room in a bright glow of yellow before it submerged into gloominess again. The storm reflected my mood. Turbulent. Unpredictable. Angry. Volatile.

In my sweats, I watched the rain pelt against the window, running down the glass in big fat drops. Mist gathered over the panels, and I drew mindless circles in the dew, letting my mind wander. Tomorrow was Monday—my first day back at the Academy—and I was starting to feel the nerves.

It wasn’t Ava or her band of bitches that had me worried, nor all the gossip that would undoubtedly swirl around my return. It was having to see Brock with Ava. Together. I couldn’t stomach the thought. Not after last night. Not after he still refused to end this charade.

Carter’s voice suddenly filled the room. “Contemplating running away again?”

My head whipped in his direction. He wore a smug smirk. Damp, slightly curly sandy hair fell over his forehead, like he’d just come from the shower or had gotten caught in the rain. I never heard my door open, the storm covering up the turning of the knob. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “What do you want?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Just checking in.”

“Like you actually give a fuck about me. If you’re looking for information, you’re shit out of luck. Thanks to your girlfriend, I never got the chance to find it or figure out his passcode.” Thunder struck, rumbling the house. I had only a small lamp on in the corner of the room. It flickered as the power cut out and back on.

Half of Carter’s face was shrouded in darkness, the storm snuffing out the sun, but I still caught the gleam of his grin. “She’s Brock's girlfriend now or haven’t you heard?”

If he was looking for a reaction, he got his wish. I couldn’t control my emotions, not when I had just been thinking about the two of them and how much it would hurt seeing Brock with her. “Get the fuck out. I’m not in the mood for your shit.” I returned my gaze to the window, not caring if Carter still stood inside my room. Turning my back to my stepbrother was never a good idea, but I was all out of fucks to give.

“You owe me. One way or the other, I’m going to get what’s coming to me.” He stepped further into my room, a slash of lightning cut across the sky, lighting up the side of Carter’s face. The look on his face…

I shivered. I didn’t think about my actions, only reacted. Grabbing the nearest thing I could reach, I hurled the Bath and Bodyworks candle across the room at Carter. “Get out!” I screamed.

He ducked, narrowly missing being clobbered in the head. Too bad it hadn’t been lit. The glass tumbler hit the wall with a thud, shattering into chunks of glass that clattered to the floor. “You’re as crazy as your mother.” His hand went to the side of his neck where a sliver of glass had nicked him.

I lost it then. Jumping up to my feet, I faced my asshole stepbrother, flames igniting in my veins. “Don’t you dare compare me to her. She is not my mother.” The pressure behind my eyes warned me I was about to cry. Nothing I hated more than angry tears. I don’t know why I let my emotions get so bottled up that they came out in a gush.

Carter’s lips twitched.

“What is going on up here?” Angie demanded, hovering just outside the doorway behind Carter. He turned to the side so Angie could see us both.

I stood facing them, fuming. “Where do you want me to start? I don’t know, how about the fact that your stepson is trying to blackmail me? Or that this family is so disturbed? Do you have any idea what he has done to me? To Ainsley?”

Confused crinkled at the corners of her eyes. “Ainsley? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“How can you stand there and pretend you don’t know why what is going on? This is your fault. If you would just listen to me…” I shook my head, my body physically shaking with rage. “You have no idea how much shit he has put me through.”

Carter touched the small scratch on his neck, smearing a bead of blood. “She’s off her rocker. She needs help.”

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” I snapped, temper simmering in my blood. “Have me sent away, committed to a psych ward. It wouldn’t fix your problems. If anyone needs to seek treatment, it’s you.”

“It might be good for you,” he pressed on like he hadn’t heard a word I said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

I straightened my spine and raised my chin. “Hell no. This is not happening. You’re sick in the head. I’m not the one who needs help.”

Defeat slumped in Angie’s shoulders, the fire in her eyes extinguishing. “Josephine, stop. Just stop. Carter has a point. Steven and I have discussed you talking to someone. We think it might be a good idea.”

This wasn’t happening. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more mucked up. “I don’t need a shrink. Besides, do you really want me to air our dirty laundry to stranger?”

Angie tilted her head slightly to the side. “Carter, would you mind giving Josephine and me a moment alone?”

“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.” I went to grab a hoodie from the end of my bed.

Both Angie and Carter stood like a barricade at my door, neither of them budging. Since when had then become a unit working against me? My supposed own mother. Fuck this. I whirled toward the balcony doors.

Angie rushed to get in front of me, putting herself between the exit and me. A tinge of sadness worked its way into her pretty yet tired features. “You are not going anywhere. Not until we discuss what is going on with you. I told you that boy was no good. Look where hanging out with him has gotten you.”

“This is not Brock’s fault,” I ground out, my voice dropping an octave.

Carter made a snort of disbelief that did not help the situation. “The Elite do nothing but cause problems. They ruin lives. They’ve been trying to ruin mine for years.”

Okay, I’d heard enough. Brock, Grayson, Fynn, and Micah weren’t here to defend themselves, so I took it upon myself to do so on their behalf. “You don’t have a leg to stand on. You raped my sister. And god knows how many others are out there too afraid to come forward.”

Carter’s face went beet red. I first thought it might have been shame, but then quickly realized it was undiluted rage that trembled through him. He wanted to hurt me.

“Do you hear yourself? You don’t have a sister, honey,” Angie said in a voice that was full of pity and meant to pacify an uncontrollable toddler.

This time it was my turn to grin nefariously. “That’s where you’re wrong, Angie. Turns out, I have a sister and brother. Triplets. Imagine that.”

Her face drained utterly of color, all the confirmation I needed, not that I required more proof. I’d seen enough. “This is nonsense. I’m making you an appointment with a doctor.”

The surprise in Carter’s face only lasted a brief moment before he quickly put together the pieces. Perhaps he hadn’t known my secret after all; not that it mattered now. I was just glad I was the one who unveiled the truth. Not him.

“Oh really, so you didn’t have a baby girl who was born premature and died in the NICU at Elmwood Hospital?” And just like that, I unraveled Angie’s deepest, darkest secret. I blew the lid off it.

Shock turned to a calculating gleam so quick, I couldn’t believe it. She was already looking for a way to spin a web of lies. It was impressive and scary as hell. This woman was more than a drunk—she was a con artist. Nothing about her life was genuine or true.

Angie schooled her features, morphing her face into one of shock and disbelief. “Why would you say such hateful things to me? Do you really hate me that much, Josephine?”

So she was going for the woe-is-me innocent mom act. I was not buying it. And surprisingly, neither was Carter. Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising at all that he believed me. Carter was, after all, his father’s son and a conman in his own right. It looks like Angie finally found a family who fit her perfectly.

I was the odd man out.

And I finally understood why.

None of us were cut from the same cloth. I had morals and a fucking conscience. I believed in shit like right and wrong.

Carter’s eyes narrowed, bouncing from me to Angie and back to me. “No shit,” Carter muttered, staring at me in a different light. “That’s why you look just like her. I had a hunch.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, don’t pretend you hadn’t figured it out.”

“I hadn’t,” he said mildly. “But I’m guessing the Elite did. It’s on their little thumb drive, isn’t it? All the gritty details. Imagine what that would do to this family—to your mother if it got out.”

“She is not my mother.” The statement was laced with venom, all the anger built up since I found out burning in my words.

“Josephine.” Angie took a seat at my desk, sinking into the chair like a fragile porcelain doll about to shatter into a million pieces. Was this part of her act, a ploy for sympathy? Her breathing grew rapid, a delicate hand resting over her heart. The realization that the truth couldn’t be buried seeped into her bones.

I steeled myself, refusing to find compassion or empathy for her. She didn’t deserve it. And yet my heart still twinged inside. “Is that even my name? Or was that the name of the baby you lost? Do you even know my real name?”

“Mikayla,” she whispered.

I hadn’t expected her to answer me, let alone give me the truth. Mikayla. The name boomeranged inside my head and a weight I’d been bearing for weeks—for my entire life finally lifted off me. Hearing my name, an admission of the truth from Angie, set me free.

I’d been kidnapped as a baby.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Wait until my dad hears this.”

“Carter!” Angie snapped, her head whipping up, defeat no longer glimmering sadly in her eyes. Hardness. Desperation. Panic reflected in them now, a woman who would do anything—anything—to save the life she’d fought so hard to obtain by any means necessary. She would not go down without one hell of a fight. “Your father should hear this from me,” she said, leveling out her voice and schooling her features.

I snorted. “So you can weave more lies? Does it never end?”

She looked at me now. “This isn’t simple, Josephine. Not for me.”

“What about me? Do you have any idea what it is like to find out that your entire life is a lie? That I have an entire family I know nothing about?” I let all the anguish and hurt seep into my voice.

“Stop,” Angie whispered. “That is just not true. I loved you. I love you still. You are my daughter. It doesn’t matter that we don’t share blood. You will always be mine.”

“I am not a possession. You don’t own me. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“No,” she stated flatly.

Another truth. The blows kept going. This was what I wanted, but still hearing it wasn’t easy. “This is some serious shit. You actually stole a baby.” I wanted her to understand the deep impact that decision had on not just my life, but hers as well. She was damn lucky she’d gotten away with it and wasn’t behind bars.

A heavy sigh left her chest. “It was all a long time ago. I was only thirty-four weeks pregnant. She came too early.” The story poured out of her as if she had waited almost eighteen years to unload this secret she had kept to herself. Her gaze was focused just past my shoulder like she was reliving those moments that happened nearly eighteen years ago. “But she was a little fighter and she seemed to be doing okay, which was why her sudden death was such a shock to me.” She took a deep breath, Carter and I remaining quiet as we waited. “The hospital had been in a buzz the day I’d given birth. Another mother came in pregnant with triplets. The three of them were born just a few hours after my little girl. But less than twenty-four hours later, I lost her. I just kept thinking, why does she deserve three? Why had my little girl’s life been taken, yet all three of them lived? It wasn’t fair.”

“So you decided to take one of them?” My sharp voice cracked through the room.

“It wasn’t planned. It just happened,” she defended, her gaze finally connecting back to mine. “An emergency broke out that sent the nurses in the nursey out in a rush. Moments after they left, my little girl just suddenly stopped breathing in my arms. I hit the help button, called out for someone to help. I even tried to revive her myself. But it was too late. She was gone. Before I knew what I was doing, I switched out the ID bracelets and swapped you with my baby, laying her little body in the incubator. Letting go of her, saying goodbye was the hardest thing I’d ever done. But then you looked up at me with those dark eyes. You became mine. I loved you instantly.”

“Is that supposed to make it okay?” How this woman had ever raised me I’d never understand. Did she not have a remorseful bone in her body? No conscious?

Lightning zapped across the dark sky outside the windows. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it's like to lose a daughter.” Her eyes pleaded with me.

But my resolve didn’t waver. “No, I don’t. But I do know what it’s like to never have something. I have a brother and a sister. You took them from me.”

“I can’t lose you too. I can’t.” Her voice trembled.

“You already have.” I didn’t care how many times the cops brought me back. I couldn’t stay here. Not any longer.

I had to leave.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, the words breaking over a sob. Tears glossed her eyes.

“I’m not your daughter. I never was.” Shoving past Carter, I rushed from the room, unable to stay another second in this house. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating, drowning in a sea of lies and truths.

“Josephine, wait,” Angie called out, shoving to her feet. “Where are you going? You can’t leave.”

Like hell, I can’t.

I reached the stairs and from behind me, I heard footsteps chasing after me. “Josephine!” she screamed, panic causing her voice to shriek. “Josephine!”

I didn’t stop. I didn’t look over my shoulder. I just ran out the front door and into the stormy night with only my phone and the clothes on my back.