Disorder by J.L. Weil
Chapter Twenty
Idon’t think my heart ever hammered so hard before as it did walking through the front door of the Edwardses’ home. Grayson’s dad was still at the office. My brother grabbed my wrist, tugging me down the hallway. Such an odd phrase—my brother. Would I get used to this? Would I always feel like the odd one out?
My legs seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each. Walking became difficult, like I was trudging through a swamp of mud.
We found Liana in her office, eyes scanning the computer screen. Grayson knocked softly before he said, “Mom?”
She lifted her gaze, a soft smile forming on her lips, eyes lighting up at the sight of her son in the doorway.
Shit. I can’t do this.
Grayson’s hands tightened on my shoulders, keeping me in place. “There something we need to tell you.”
Her eyes noticed the seriousness on her son’s face, heard it in his voice. Sensing that what he had to say was important, she closed her laptop. “Okay, what’s up?”
There was a worn leather couch on the opposite wall of her desk that looked like it got plenty of use. Grayson navigated me to the couch, sitting down beside me. I didn’t know what to do, so I laced my hands together to keep from fidgeting. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her and kept my eyes averted to the floor. My nails dug deep enough into my palms that I was afraid of finding blood on them once I unclenched my fists.
Grayson shifted as he searched for the right words. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to come out and—”
Her gasp drew my gaze upward to see her hands flying to cheeks. “Ohmygod, your pregnant. She’s having your baby.”
Color stained my cheeks. I was mortified at Liana’s conclusion, as was Grayson. His face scrunched. “Ew. That is literally the grossest conclusion you could have come up with. Seriously, Mom, I’m going to be sick. Josie and I are not… dating,” he finally settled on, unable to mention sex in the same sentence as him and me. I didn’t blame him.
After getting over the initial humiliation, I found the whole thing comical. It relieved some of the pressure clamping down on my chest.
Grayson raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “God, when you hear what I tell you, you’re going to realize how disturbing the imagine of Josie and me together is.”
Liana looked confused. “Why? Because she looks like your sister? I will admit the idea worried me that you’d bring home a girl who is the spitting image of Kenna.”
“Mom, just stop,” he interrupted before she could dig herself into a further hole. “Josie is not my girlfriend. I repeat. We are not dating. She’s sort of hook—uh, seeing Brock,” he quickly amended.
My cheeks flamed again. This was not going at all as I had planned. It was way worse. The last thing I wanted was to be made out a slut. I thought about pinching Grayson under the arm, but I realized I wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
A tension had moved into the room between the three of us. It was best if Grayson blurted it out like ripping off a Band-Aid.
He must have had the same idea. “She’s your daughter,” he finally spat out. “I should have told you when she showed up.”
A pin could have dropped in the room, and it would have sounded like a shotgun going off.
No one said a thing. The three of us just stared awkwardly at each other as Liana digested the information.
Shock. Confusion. Fear. Uncertainty.
The range of emotions flooding the office bounced from one spectrum to the other and could be seen in her face. Her posture was so straight. She blinked. “What did you say?”
“Josie is your daughter. The one you thought you lost,” Grayson explained, speaking just a little slower this time instead of rushing the truth.
Her eyes so much like mine dashed from her son to me. She looked at me with a different perspective, considering. The resemblance was undeniable, but not proof enough. “Why would you believe that?” she asked Grayson. “Don’t get me wrong, her resemblance to your sister is uncanny, but Grayson, that doesn’t mean she is your sister. She died.”
“I have proof,” Grayson disclosed. “The baby you thought died had been switched in the hospital. Josie is that baby.”
Paling slightly, she scolded, “Grayson, this isn’t funny. Don’t play with my emotions. If this is one of your—”
“Mom, this isn’t a game,” he interrupted. “She is your daughter. She didn’t die. She was taken.”
“Taken?” Liana echoed, disbelief shining in her eyes. “You’re implying she was kidnapped.”
I could do nothing but remain silent as the two of them went back and forth.
“Not implying, Mom. I’m telling you she was,” he said frankly.
Liana’s gaze slid to me, doubt finally breaking into her features. I could see her mind turning, trying to decide if what Grayson said could be true and what she saw with her own eyes. “How can this be possible? I don’t understand.”
Grayson shifted forward so he sat on the edge of the couch. “Another woman in the hospital had also given birth to a baby the same day. That baby ended up in the NICU with us, but sadly, the little girl didn’t survive.”
“Oh, God,” she proclaimed, anticipating where this was going.
“Seeing that you had three healthy babies, she switched her little girl with Josie. I have a DNA test that proves she is the baby you thought you lost.”
“Grayson—” Her voice caught. Then she looked at me. “Y-You’re really her?”
I nodded. I’d never felt so exposed before in my life, so damn vulnerable.
“Sweet Jesus. I think I might pass out or cry. Probably both. I’m definitely going to cry,” she blubbered, tears already filling up her eyes. “I-I can’t believe it. I’ve dreamed about you so many times over the years. I wondered what you’d look like. You’re beautiful. Can I hug you?”
I nodded again, unable to get my mouth to function words.
We both stood up, and surprisingly my wobbly legs held me. At any second, I thought I might crash to the ground, but then her arms were around me. When she pulled back to frame my face with slim fingers, tears followed freely down her cheeks. “Let me look at you.” Soft and gentle fingers brushed strands of my hair off my forehead. “I should have known to trust my gut. When you walked through that door, something told me you were special. I just didn’t know how much.”
“She looks so much like Kenna, doesn’t she?” Grayson said.
Liana bit her bottom lip, her head bobbing up and down in agreement. “Yes, she does. I can’t believe this is real.” She hugged me again, her shoulders shaking as her overwhelming emotions got the best of her.
I hugged her back, my face and eyes wet. Once the tears started, I couldn’t stop them. They fell and fell, tearing through me. She held on to me, letting me purge the onslaught of emotion we both needed.
“What time is it?” she gasped when we’d both regained a semblance of composure. “We have to tell your father. He is going to be beside himself. God, I have so many questions. Have you been living here this whole time?” She coaxed me back onto the couch.
I nodded, wiping at my eyes. “Well, on the other side of town up until this year.”
“And your… mother? The woman who…” She swallowed, stopping herself from finishing. This had to be difficult. Someone had stolen her baby. I could only imagine how she felt about Angie Patterson. I’d had weeks to get used to the idea, but honestly, it wasn’t enough time.
“Angie,” I supplied. This was a sensitive subject, one both of us were uncomfortable discussing. I didn’t know what was the wrong and right thing to say.
“I have so many questions for you. I… I can’t believe this is real, that you’re real.” Her hand clutched mine as if she were afraid to let me go, that I might somehow disappear. “It’s really you. When I saw you… for a split second I thought… but then I told myself it couldn’t be true. It was impossible. But here you are.”
“I was pretty much in denial for days when I found out,” I admitted. “This is some heavy news to learn about yourself.”
Understanding and compassion touched her features. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I imagine it has been quite an adjustment, learning your parents aren’t your parents. I’d like the chance to get to know you, if you let me.”
“I’d like that,” I whispered. More than I could express.
Her beaming bright eyes glanced at her son, and then back to me. “You and Grayson found each other? What are the chances?”
I met Grayson’s gaze from where he lounged at the far side of the couch, Liana between us. “I guess we did. But it was mostly Grayson.”
“I’m too overwhelmed to care how he found you. Knowing my son, there is definitely a story there.”
Grayson cleared his throat. “It’s best you don’t know.”
Liana rolled her eyes. “Try that excuse on your father.” Her fingers brushed over my hair as a gracious smile spread on her lips. “You’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I want to know everything about you.”
“Maybe not all in one night, Mom,” Grayson suggested. “She’s had a long day.”
“Fine, but I’d like you to stay with us, at least for a little while. I’ll have one of the rooms made up for you. I don’t know what happened, but I got the impression you’re in trouble. I’m not prying, just giving you an option.”
An option I couldn’t refuse. This was why I had come here, what I had hoped for, a chance to know them, know what it was like to be a part of their family, what life might have been. “Thank you. I think I’d like that very much.”
She put her arm around my shoulders. “Good. It’s settled. Let’s go see what Elise is making for dinner, and I’ll try not to stare at you too much. I’m half afraid if I blink, you’ll disappear.”
All the anxiety I felt before vanished as she led me out of the office, Grayson behind us. I had a feeling it would be an emotional night in the Edwards household, but a good kind. And long overdue. The secret was out, and I could finally start figuring out who I was, who I wanted to be.
* * *
As expected, Chandler Edwards had a similar reaction when his wife told him the news. It was a lot to spring on someone the first time meeting him. Grayson showed both his parents the tests and information the Elite had collected proving who I was.
Chandler was so different from Easton, and I didn’t just mean in looks. It was neither a good nor bad way, just different. Chandler had an air of importance about him, a sophistication Easton lacked. My dad growing up had been hands-on, not afraid to dance in the rain, wear a pink tutu, or make mud cakes and pretend to eat them. I had a hard time picturing Chandler doing any of those things. I envisioned him throwing the football in the backyard with Grayson, having movie marathons on the weekends, and getting all technical about it. One didn’t seem more fun than the other.
Grayson looked like his father… correction, our father. They shared the same serious dark eyebrows, chiseled jaw, and were nearly the same height, Grayson just an inch taller.
Once Chandler got over the shock, he engulfed me in a bear hug, squeezing me. The disbelief lingered for days, every time I walked into a room. I answered their many questions about my life and childhood, careful to skirt around details of my parents. They were a touchy subject, understandably. I had yet to break the news to Easton, a conversation I dreaded. But we all agreed to keep this quiet for a while, not looking for the attention a revelation like this would cause.
The Edwardses were a prominent family, and the return of their presumed dead baby would cause headlines and media attention. I didn’t want it.
There were two problems with this. Carter and Angie.
And their silence made me nervous.
The next few days flew by, and I adjusted quickly to my new routine and staying with the Edwardses. I didn’t know if I’d ever be comfortable in referring to them as my parents. For now, Chandler and Liana would do. It was difficult to think of two people who were still strangers to me as Dad and Mom.
I didn’t hear from Angie, and despite being relieved, a piece of me was also hurt. Don’t get me wrong. I was grateful for the space. It was exactly what I wanted—time to figure out who I was and how I felt about what she’d done.
One thing that remained steady was how I felt seeing Brock and Ava together. Each moment kindled my jealousy. By the end of the week, I was sure my rage would rupture from me. God help the Academy when that happened.
Carter had returned to school on Tuesday. I braced myself for the verbal attacks, the threats, for him to exploit my secret. Instead, he treated me as if I had an infectious disease. No eye contact. No sneers. No side comments. I didn’t know this Carter.
It made me suspicious and uneasy. I’d lived with Carter long enough to know he never stayed quiet for long.
Nothing sucked more than waiting for the shoe to drop and not knowing when it would come.
Not true. I changed my mind. Brock being with Ava sucked way more.
The separation weighed on both of us, but it was the knowledge that this was his choice that kept me angry with him.
There were other ways to get back at the bitch.
The first time Brock’s hand brushed mine as he passed me in the hall, my heart lurched in my chest. I was so hungry for his touch. I almost believed I imagined it until it happened again and again, little stolen touches.
Soon, they weren’t enough.
We both needed more.
Friday, during gym class, Coach Q ordered us to head outside for a mile run around the track. Groans erupted throughout the gymnasium. I was one of the last out the doors into the hallway as the class dragged their feet to the exit at the end of the corridor. I just made it into the hallway when someone grabbed me from the side, tugging me around the corner.
I whirled, fists ready to face my assailant, panic clawing at my chest. Then my eyes clashed into a sea of aqua. “Brock? What the hell? I almost punched you in the dick,” I hissed, staring up at him. God, I missed his gorgeous face. My eyes devoured him. It had been too long since we’d been this close.
A finger pressed to my lips, silencing me. My brows furrowed in response. As the rest of my class filed outside, Brock pulled me into the boys’ locker room.
“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in class—?” The lock flipped, resounding over the tiled walls. He had a look in his eyes that sent my blood rushing to the surface. “What is wrong? Why are we—?”
His lips covered mine, cutting off the rest of my words. Both of his hands came to frame my face, the pad of his thumb running along my right cheekbone.
For a heartbeat, my mind went blank, and then there was only the warmth of his lips slanting over mine. Rising on my toes, I curled my fingers into his shirt and hauled him against me. The firmness of his body pressed into mine, and I groaned into his mouth.
Conflicting emotions swam within me. Should I be kissing Brock? I was pissed at him. Wasn’t I? But for one minute, I wanted to forget all the crap, all the hurt and pain. I just wanted to bask in this intense high only Brock could induce.
Living with my bio family was wonderful. But being in Brock’s arms, that felt like coming home.
The taste of him was goddamn cosmic..
I moaned again as his tongue slid over mine, enticing and teasing me.
Someone cleared his throat. A someone that wasn’t Brock.
Brock tore his lips from mine with a growl, an icy scowl marring his lips. “Get out of here,” he told Jason, one of his football teammates, his gaze never leaving my face. Heat flared in his eyes, his voice harsh, breathing uneven. “And you say nothing. You saw nothing. Understand?”
“Got it, man,” Jason replied, holding up his hands. He quickly dashed to the door, flipped the lock, and rushed out.
Brock’s gaze flicked to my lips. I could still taste him, and need throbbed between my legs. He leaned forward to reclaim my lips and finish what he’d started, but despite just how much I wanted him, I needed to know what the fuck was going on. I pressed my hands to Brock’s chest, applying enough pressure to keep him a bay. “Don’t. We’re done here,” I said in my best stern voice.
His hands encircled my wrists, not hard but firm enough to grab my attention. “No, we’re not. We’re just getting started.” As if to prove his point, he switched direction of his lips, grazing my jawline with them instead before moving to my ear.
Damn him!
“I can’t keep doing this, Brock.” He knew what I was referring to, this shit with Ava, avoiding me, and pretending he didn’t give a shit about me.
I think the only person he fooled was the bitch herself, but maybe that was the point.
“Just a little longer,” he murmured, taking the lobe of my ear into his mouth. His teeth pressed down, tugging. My back hit the wall, Brock lining up his body into mine.
We fit so fucking perfectly. It was like God had crafted him just for me.
My head dropped back onto the wall. “Then what?” I demanded, his assurance not pacifying the growing frustration within me, but it no longer was about this scheme he was carrying out, and quickly became about how much I wanted him.
He dropped his forehead to mine and whispered, “I need you, Firefly.”
Well, shit. Why did he have to go and say that? Brock and I had this unspoken agreement when it came to sex, and I knew what he was asking. He had been there for me every time I had needed him in the same fashion. How could I refuse him?
Moreover, did I really want to?
Because the truth of it was, I missed him, more than I wanted to admit.
“Then what are you waiting for? Fuck me, Taylor.”
“God, I missed you,” he said as lips descended over mine in a kiss that shattered any last bit of shield I had around my heart. His fingers dug into my hair, angling my head to the side for deeper access as he claimed me.
Desperate to show him what he made me feel, I ran my fingers under his shirt and over the plane of his stomach, reveling in the power I had over him as the muscles bunched and quivered under my greedy hands.
Then there was just his mouth and the unbelievable things he could do with his tongue and teeth. He kissed me thoroughly, and I wondered if he planned to spend the entire class period torturing me before giving us both the release we so wildly hungered for.
He cupped my breasts through my cotton Academy gym shirt, and tingles radiated from that part of my body. As his lips devoured mine, his fingers teased and kneaded.
Oh, God.
“Brock,” I groaned. My breasts ached in his hands and I lifted them further into his touch, seeking more. He didn’t disappoint. The pad of his thumb flicked over a budding nipple, and it instantly went rock-hard. I groaned, my head falling back, exposing the column of my neck.
He traced a line of kisses on my throat, dragging his tongue over my pulsing vein. I felt his teeth and shuddered.
It should have occurred to me that we were still in school, where anyone could walk in at any time, including a teacher.
I was past the point of caring about anything other than Brock’s hands, his lips, and the pleasure his body could give me.
I didn’t just need him.
I craved him.
His fingers slid around me, clasping my ass to lift me up. I clamped my legs around him, feeling the hardness of his desire pressed between my thighs. He ground his hips against mine, and I arched my back, begging for more. The center of my core burned for him. I burned for him. Every part of me.
I barely noticed or felt him walking us further into the locker room; my sole focus consisted of Brock. He placed me down on a hard surface, his fingers tugging at the hem of my shorts.
“Shorts off,” Brock growled.
“If you want them off, you’re going to have to do the work,” I breathed.
His husky chuckle brushed over my lips. “With pleasure, Firefly.” Hurried fingers hooked into the waistband as his half-lidded gaze found mine. His eyes never wavered. “Better hold on.” He gave a yank, pulling the shorts down my hips.
I let out a small laugh, my hands finding his shoulders for stability. “I was thinking the same thing,” I murmured, guiding my fingers into the front of his pants.
He hissed at the first touch of my hand wrapping around the velvety yet hard length of him. A smile curled my lips as I teased him with slow, deliberate strokes. “Josie,” he breathed. “Jesus, I missed you.”
“Then show me,” I dared, my need for him reaching the point where I wanted him deep inside me.
I got what I asked for.
Shoving aside the black lace panties, he sank a finger inside me, and my muscles instantly clutched around him. One finger turned into two as he moved in and out. His thumb rubbed over that sensitive spot, driving me fucking insane. No matter how close I grew to a shattering climax, Brock eased back just enough to keep me from sailing into bliss.
A curse escaped me as my fingers tightened around him.
Digging a condom out of his pocket, he held the foil wrap for me between his fingers. I gladly obliged, ripping it open and sliding it down over each marvelous inch. I knew the reasoning behind using a condom even though I took the pill, but a part of me wanted to feel him inside me without any barriers.
He drew me to the edge of the counter, aligning himself between my legs so the tip of his erection pressed into me.
“What are you waiting for?” I panted, my eyes clouded with desire.
“Always so impatient.”
In one quick thrust, he buried himself inside me, my wetness surrounding him. As I rode that first wave of pure pleasure, my lids fluttered shut and my head fell back. Nothing in the world came close to the feeling of Brock moving inside me.
I tightened my legs around his waist, keeping him pinned close to me as I angled my hips, seeking more of him. Brock brought me right to the cusp of pleasure with each stroke, but holding back and drawing it out instead of sending me over the edge. He knew it wouldn’t take much to rip the orgasm from me.
“Please,” I whimpered. “Brock, please.”
“You’re mine, Firefly. I want to hear you say it,” he murmured, his breath a hot kiss against my skin.
Asshole.
But just as quickly I went from cursing him to worshiping his name. He thrust into me again, and I would have said anything, but I meant the words that tumbled from my lips with everything in me. “You’re mine. Only mine.”
“Say it again,” he rasped, tendrils of his hair falling forward over his darkened eyes.
Brushing aside the strand, I returned the sentiment, never meaning anything more in my life. “You’re mine, Brock Taylor.” My fingers plunged into his hair, a soft cry and a moan following the burst of my orgasm. I swear I saw the twinkling of stars behind my eyes. Or maybe they were fireflies.
“Firefly,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into the crock of my damp neck as his seed spilled into the condom.
For a long moment, we just stayed where we were, neither of us moving. Our breaths evened out, our hearts returning to a comforting rhythm that beat in time with each other. I was the first to shift, my hands dropping away from him. He sensed something changed between us and pulled out of me, but he didn’t step away.
Brock hooked a finger under my chin and tipped my face up until my gaze met his. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
A million thoughts, but all I said was “We should probably get to class.”
He shook his head, not letting me wiggle off the counter. “No, I’m not buying it. That was not what you were thinking. Since when do you hold back telling me how you feel?”
He had me there. Fine. He wanted to know how I was really feeling. I would lay it all on the table. What the fuck did I have to lose?
Everything, an evil voice inside my head whispered.
Not true. I’d already been done the road of losing everything.
“Depends, are you going to tell me what happened?” I asked. He’d needed me for a reason. I wanted him to open up and share that part of himself. The good. The bad. And the ugly.
“We fucked,” he stated crassly because he knew it would rile me.
“Don’t be stupid. That’s not what I meant. You know it.” I pushed a finger into his chest, giving it a hard shove. The bastard didn’t move or flinch, just blinked at me like he was made of steel.
Brock pressed his lips together, his emotions a mask, tucked and hidden away. “I thought we had an agreement. Isn’t that what you wanted, what you suggested?”
“Screw you for tossing it back into my face.” My hands pressed on his chest as I jumped off the counter, adjusting my panties back into place. I bent down and reached for my shorts. “You’re saying nothing has changed? You are still going forward with your idiotic plan?”
“Josie.”
“Don’t Josie me. And don’t pretend you’re doing this for me. You’re the one who wants to punish her. I am more than capable of hurting Ava my own way, in my own time. I never asked you to do this.”
He tucked himself back into his boxers, zipping up his pants. “No, but it’s what we do.”
“And if I asked you to stop?” I pressed, not letting let up for a heartbeat. I would challenge Brock every step of the way. He had become important to me—too fucking important. And that was where the problem lay. I had set the ground rules. Now I wanted to alter them, but not just alter, I wanted to knock them all down.
I wanted him to love me.
Silence. His straight lips didn’t budge.
“That’s what I thought.” Straightening the rest of my clothes, I shook my head. “I’m done. This thing between us, whatever the fuck it is, it’s over. Next time you need a fuck, go find Ava.” I spun, intending to storm out. Brock didn’t let me.
His hand flashed out, grabbing onto my wrists, twirling me back around to face him. “It’s not over until I say it is, Firefly.”
“Bullshit,” I spat. “Those words we shared, they meant nothing. It was just a fuck, right. You might think you own me, but you don’t. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the easier this will be. You might run this school, but only I get to say who touches me. After today, you lost that privilege.”
The fingers on my wrist tightened. “Are you saying what just happened was a mistake?”
“Fuck yes. Never again,” I swore.
“Now who is bullshitting? You can deny it all you want, Firefly, but you want me as much as I want you. That is something you can just flip off. We belong together.”
Those words were so damn close to what I wanted to hear that I nearly caved. My heart soared in my chest, urging me to throw myself into his arms.
I didn’t. I stayed firm and planted. “Maybe I can’t just flip off my feelings, but I’ve decided I don’t want to do casual. Turns out, I’m not as impervious to catching feelings as I thought.”
He released my wrist, forking a hand through his hair, a deep scowl on his swollen lips. “You expect me to just let you walk out after you say something like that?”
I shot up a brow. “Do you really have a choice?”
“Don’t do this.” His face contoured into something that almost mirrored hurt.
My chin lifted just a fraction as I strengthened the last bit of shield around my heart. “I think we both know you won’t give me what I need.” This time when I turned to leave, he didn’t stop me. That was all the answer I needed.
I walked out of the boys’ locker room without a glance back, despite my heart splintering into a million little pieces.