Fool Me Twice by Lizzie Morton

 

 

Sixteen

 

Britney

 

It took me hours to get to sleep, even with Becket by my side. I should tell him what’s been going on, but I’d sound like a lunatic, rambling on about a figure in a black jacket, that one minute is there, the next minute isn’t. It’s my mind playing tricks, remembering how things used to be before I had enough money to start paying Mom’s debts. The scare tactic they used worked too well, now I’m seeing them everywhere. It’s my guilty conscience—I’ve missed one of the few payments I have left.

I should never miss a payment.

“Brit …” A large pair of hands shake me gently and I groan. I must only have been out for a couple of hours if that. “Brit,” hisses Becket, closer to my ear. Why isn’t he getting the idea that I’m not ready to get up? “Brit, it’s one in the afternoon, you have to wake up.”

Ok, maybe I was out longer than I thought.

My eyes feel like sandpaper and I struggle to open them. My mouth tastes as good as they feel. Holding a hand up over my mouth, I look up into Becket’s gorgeous, ruffled face. He looks even better when he’s just woken up, better than he does in his football uniform, which I didn’t think was possible. I could get used to waking up to this, I think, then scold myself for getting carried away. With Becket’s record, we’re most likely back to hating each other today. Yesterday’s truce was probably a fluke.

“Why are you holding your hand over your mouth?” he asks, his mouth tugs at one side as he tries to fight a smile.

“Morning breath. Be right back.” I dart out of bed, heading straight for his door, but pause when I get there and spin back around. “Do you have CCTV?”

He frowns. “Erm, yeah … Why?”

“I thought I heard something last night,” I answer, trying to keep my voice as blasé as possible. “It was probably just a cat, but I thought I’d check it out.”

“Check away, but I have a security team. You’re safe, Brit. Nothing’s going to happen to you when you’re with me.”

“I know, but please, let me check it out?”

He nods. “The screen is set up in my office downstairs. First door on the right, past the stairs.”

“Be right back.” I grin, praying my face looks more relaxed than I feel.

Hurrying down the stairs, I quickly find his office and slip through the door. I’m on edge, not sure what I’m going to find when I look back over the footage from last night. The screen is full of little squares with different angles of the house, just like Becket said it would be. It takes me a couple of minutes to navigate the software, but once I get the hang of it, I rewind the video to around midnight, then set it to play.

I see myself walking along the hallway and back into Becket’s room. I begin to pay extra careful attention, my eyes moving from one grid to the next, looking for anything. There’s nothing.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, relieved that my past hasn’t found me in Jacksonville. Yesterday was a long day and tiredness can make the mind do funny things. Before I push away from Becket’s desk, my eyes trail slowly around his office, taking everything in.

Like the rest of the house, it’s been expertly decorated and flows perfectly with the other rooms, but among all the perfectly placed décor there’s something amiss. He has no past, no pictures. No family. There’s nothing in the whole house. Everything is perfect, too perfect.

The only thing I managed to find that seemed slightly out of place was a spare phone in his nightstand which I’ve never seen him use. I found it when I was searching for his pain meds one day when the nurse was late and he was sitting in the living area. I’ve not been prying, just searching so I can understand him better. But there’s nothing to be found. Anything that could give insight into who Becket is, is gone.

Remembering what I initially left Becket’s room to do, I shoot back upstairs, feeling a little lighter knowing there’s nothing to be worried about. There’s a niggle, but I stamp it down. I walk back into his room a couple of minutes later and wave my toothbrush and toothpaste in the air.

“Did you find anything?” he asks.

“Nothing. Like I said, must have been a cat.”

When I walk into his en-suite, he shouts after me, “That’s it, you just sort yourself out.”

I roll my eyes as I start to brush. When I’m done, I walk over to him with an empty cup and his toothbrush.

Keeping hold of the cup, I nod at it, and say, “You can spit in here.”

He stares at me blankly, then when he can’t keep a straight face any longer, throws his head back laughing. “Anyone listening would think we were up to something kinky,” he winks.

“Well, both of us know there’s not.”

“I’m not spitting in a cup, Brit.”

“I know, I was kidding.” Sort of. Not that I’m about to admit my error, forgetting that he still needs help to go about his morning routine.

When he’s finished in the bathroom and I’ve helped him get settled back on the bed, he grabs my hand before I can leave. “Why are you still a virgin, Brit? There’s nothing wrong with it, but it is a bit … odd.”

I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with him so soon, if ever. Awkwardly, I look away towards the window, but then images of the figure from last night flood my mind and I wind up looking back at him. There’s no avoiding this. “You’re not the only one with secrets,” I reply, cryptically, hoping he will give up.

He doesn’t. He’s as persistent as Jess when she knows there’s something, I’m not telling her. “You can trust me.” He gives me a look that has my resolve crumbling.

I’m about to tell him that no, I can’t, not after everything he’s put me through while I’ve been here, when I remember Jess’ email:

 

Some people deserve a second chance, sometimes more. Not everyone is like your mother.

 

I take a deep breath, hoping Becket is prepared for what he’s letting himself into, because this box we’re about to open belongs to Pandora, and what’s kept inside, I can’t deal with alone. “Scoot over a little,” I say.

“That serious, huh?” he replies, shuffling carefully sideways, giving me room to climb on the bed.

I don’t say anything as I sit and stretch my legs out, then scoot myself in as close to him as I can. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side and I inhale his comforting scent. Lavender and birch, the two things I’ll now always associate with him.

I hear him swallow. He’s as nervous about this as I am. “What is it, Brit?”

I close my eyes, it’s time to open the box.

 

My body jumps in terror as the bedroom door flies open, slamming against the wall. Light floods in and I wince, shuffling down under the covers, trying to keep them wrapped tightly around me. Not again, please, not again.

Mom, where are you? Why aren’t you here? I hold my breath, trying to stay as still as I can. Maybe if he thinks I’m asleep he’ll leave?

Of course not, he’s the devil. Like something so simple would deter him.

His footsteps get closer. I hear the click of the metal as he unfastens his belt, a swoosh as the leather passes through each loop on his pants and the clunk as it hits the bare wood floor.

Cold air hits me when the cover is ripped off. He looms over me, a black silhouette against the stark light from the hallway. He crouches down, his face almost touching mine, the smell of Scotch hits me.

“Why were you hiding pretty girl? I’m here to look after you.”

 

Becket’s hand grasps my chin, bringing me out of the darkness. “Brit, where did you go?”

The softness in his voice is all it takes. I shake as sobs wrack my body and we sit for minutes, maybe hours, entwined, letting years of pent-up grief take over me.

When I feel like I can’t cry anymore, I look up at Becket through bleary eyes, finding his face full of pain. “My mom was a drug addict.”

His throat bobs and his eyes harden as he waits for me to continue.

“Things were never easy. I didn’t have a happy childhood. I never knew my dad. He and my mom were as bad as each other, and he died of an overdose not long after I was born. My mom gave up drugs long enough to have a healthy pregnancy with me, but when he passed away, she slowly started to slip back into old habits. I may as well have raised myself.

“She’d drag me between rentals, all over town. We’d live in one place just long enough, then leave before we were served an eviction notice. The early years were bearable. It’s when I got older things started to change. There was only so long before the boyfriends she had coming through the door, would no longer turn a blind eye to me …”

Becket tenses and I pause. It’s too much; no one wants to hear my sob story, not even him. I expect him to say as much, but instead he begins stroking my hair soothingly, in the same way I did to him on the bathroom floor.

“Don’t stop.” That’s all he says, so I don’t.

“She’d disappear for days on end. There was one boyfriend who was worse than the rest. He’d get angry, turn up when he knew she wasn’t around, letting himself in the apartment because of course she gave him a key. He always came at night when it was dark. The first time was the worst. I woke up, terrified, not knowing what was going on.

“I was numb to everything after that. There was nothing I could do. What chance does a thirteen-year-old girl stand against a fully grown, intoxicated man? That’s what my neighbor said to me when he took me to his gym and began training me in Krav Maga. It was after one particularly bad night when Mom’s boyfriend beat the shit out of her, and he heard it all from his apartment.”

“Brit …”

“Want to know the worst part?” I ask bitterly.

He nods.

“Whenever he’d beat her, I felt thankful. Thankful that it wasn’t me he was putting his hands on for once. Does that make me a bad person?” I hold my breath as I wait for him to answer, expecting the worst, expecting him to say yes and be repulsed by me.

He stares back at me, his face is full of understanding. “No,” he replies. “It makes you human.”

 

***

 

Becket

 

It’s not often I’m lost for words, but right now, I don’t know what to do or say. I knew there was more to Britney’s story the day she showed up at the club and literally floored me, but I never expected this. It’s taking everything inside me to keep control of my anger. Each time she tells another part of her story, reveals more of the pain she’s experienced, I bite down on my cheek, so hard I can taste blood.

The bastard. I want to find who did this to her and put him through the same pain she’s been carrying around all these years. I ache for her in ways she’ll never understand, because she can never know the truth. Like her parents, we’re two of a kind, but not because of addiction or poor life choices. Because the people who have been thrown in our way, knocking us off the path we were meant to follow, have caused us unbearable pain, and we have witnessed things, carried burdens that no child should ever have in their arms.

It takes me a while to work up the courage to ask the question I’ve been dreading. “Did he …”

She looks up, utterly broken and shakes her head. “No. It never got that far. The things he did to me were bad enough, but I suppose the only saving grace was that he never got as far as he intended.”

I exhale and some of the tension leaves my body. Small mercies and all that. It doesn’t change what he did though. Bile rises in my throat when it hits me how similar our realities are. I want to tell her that on some level I get it, what she’s been through, more than most, but doing so would give the game away.

I can’t.

She’s told me her deepest, darkest secrets. I can never tell her mine. If I did, it wouldn’t just put them at risk, it would put her at risk too.

“What happened to your mom?” I ask.

She looks down and sniffs. “I left my gym gear at home one day and was already in trouble at school, so I went back to get it. When I got there, I found her strung out screwing my boyfriend. That’s when I left. I accepted that however hard life was, it couldn’t get much worse. At least without her there dragging me down, whatever bad happened to me, it was because of my actions not hers.”

“It sounds to me like you did the right thing.”

She smiles. “Maybe I did. But I still made my mistakes; I am her daughter after all.”

“People make mistakes, Brit.”

“My biggest one was you.”

I blink, not quite understanding what she means.

She lets out a small laugh. “Sorry. I should have said, my biggest one was what I did to you. I know I said I was sorry, but I want to say it again. I really am sorry, Becket, I never meant to hurt you and there’s something mo—”

I hold a finger up to her lips, stopping her in her tracks. For now, enough secrets have been revealed, we both need time to process what’s been said.

I’m tired of fighting whatever this is between us. In a world where I had no one, I’ve found myself with Britney goddamn Shaw. No matter what the circumstances for why we’re here together, all that matters is that we are.

Staring deep into her eyes, my pulse starts to race. “Can I kiss you?”

She smirks. “It’s not like you to ask.”

There she is. Even after what she’s revealed, she’s still my little firecracker and I don’t doubt for a second, that it would take a lot to put out that spark. Leaning in slowly, I press a featherlight kiss against her lips, testing the waters, checking she’s not all talk. When she presses back firmly with her own, without any hesitation, I know there’s nothing to worry about. Her lips part, waiting for me to take her, and that’s exactly what I do.

I sweep my tongue over hers, teasing until she’s begging for more. My hands find the curve of her waist and she climbs onto my lap. Straddling me, she cages me in with her thighs. Our new position sparks something in her. Her movements become more hurried as she takes control. Her tongue moves faster. She presses harder against my lips. She grinds down onto my dick. I’m rock hard and dying to feel how wet she is for me. I want to taste how crazy I make her. But I can’t rush this with her. Trying to relieve some of the tension, I trail my hands down to her ass and squeeze it firmly. The same ass that’s been taunting me since she put on her little show at our first training session.

I groan in frustration. “I can’t wait for you to find out what you’ve been missing out on.”

She stills and for a second, I think I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Show me,” she says breathlessly, grinding down against me. She licks her lips and gazes at me hungrily, through hooded eyes.

It takes everything in me to say, “No.”

She sits up straight, lifting her hips off mine, and my dick instantly mourns the loss of her against it.

Before she gets a chance to say anything, I continue, “As much as I want to, I want your first time to be memorable.” I gesture down at my leg, the logistical nightmare she seems to have forgotten. “I never run a play unless I can give it my all.”

She throws her head back and laughs. It makes the whole room light up and I can’t help grinning back.

“You’re such an ass,” she says.

“Never pretended to be otherwise, Brit.” I’d be an ass to her all day long if it made her laugh like that again, anything to take away the pain from her eyes. “How about I promise that when we do the deed, it will be worth the wait.”

“You actually just said ‘do the deed’, didn’t you?” She snorts.

“It sounded better in my head,” I admit, my cheeks feeling warm. I’m about to have my man card revoked.

Before she can laugh again, I stop her with a searing kiss. She moans and bites down on my bottom lip. This woman is trying to kill me. My body hums, craving every part of her, it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone as much as I want Britney Shaw. The kiss grows deeper, and my hands move up and down her body, then begin toying with the waistband of her pajama pants, forgetting why we can’t take things further. My fingertips skim lightly under her top, over the soft skin of her back and she shivers. It’s a small movement but it brings me back to reality.

I pull away and press my forehead to hers, panting. “Brit, trust me, I really don’t want to, but we have to stop.”

“Ok,” she says reluctantly, pulling away.

I watch, confused as she moves off the bed and walks towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving, because if I don’t, I’ll keep wanting more.” Looking back over her shoulder, she winks. “Make sure you rest that leg, no more silly stunts. I know what I want; don’t make me wait.”