His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow

Chapter Thirty

Summer comes fast, and with it comes a wave of heat that sweeps the room we’re trapped in. Every movement is sluggish in the confined space of the bedroom. Though, outside is a different story. Trees burst with dark green leaves, and wildflowers cover the forest floor surrounding the house.

Maybe it’s the suffocation of the sun beating down on us, but things have calmed down some. For one, Maisie is behaving, which Callum’s suspicious of, convinced she’s planning something.

Though she’s nice to me, and I’m learning more about her daily. She’s eighteen and originally from Europe, which explains the diluted accent. She has an older half-brother who she never sees living in New Zealand with a wife and a bunch of kids. She was prom queen and loves dancing and Starbucks. Riding around in her baby blue beetle with her friends. She’s the type of girl I envied in school, and I know we will not be best friends. Maybe we’re not even friends. Just a result of a situation that has been thrust upon us. But having someone besides Callum is different, especially since my last friend, who was a girl, was Melissa years ago.

Then a day arrives that I’d forced myself not to think about. My seventeenth birthday. Thanks to Father Aaron coming to the room at noon, I wouldn’t have known I’ve been in this house for almost a year.

“Happy birthday, Ava,” he says, putting his hand on the top of my head. Callum immediately turns away, but from the corner of my eye, I see his fists are clenched.

I gulp. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“You will have a treat tonight.” From his light tone, it’s hard to know what he means. Either way, it brings a ball of dread to my stomach.

When he leaves, Maisie mutters a happy birthday to me before saying she’s going to shower. Sitting on the end of the bed, I run a hand through my hair and try not to break down. How has it been a year already?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Callum suddenly says, his back still to me.

My eyebrows draw together. “About what?”

“Your birthday.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was the tenth of June already.”

“I could’ve gotten you something.” He turns to me finally, eyes clouded with something I wish I knew. When I smile, he shakes his head. “Don’t smile at me like that.”

“Like what?” Getting off the bed, I take a bold step toward him. He chews on his lip, looking worried the closer I get. “You could still give me a gift.”

One of his eyebrows lifts. “Like what?”

“A kiss.”

He stares at me for a moment before glancing at the bathroom door. Hearing the trickle of the shower, he takes a step toward me until he’s right there, looking down at me with eyes as blue as the brilliant sky outside. Lifting his hand, he twists a strand of my hair around his finger. “I might not be able to stop.”

Placing my hand flat against his cheek, he closes his eyes and leans into my palm. My heart skips a beat, and I dampen my lips with my tongue. “Kiss me.”

Closing the distance, his lips capture mine. My eyelids flutter closed, and I realize this kiss is strangely different from the rest. So intense that we both stumble back. Luckily, he falls into the chair, and I straddle him, sensation taking over sanity. My hips move back and forth, rubbing against his crotch. With one hand gripping my thigh, his other flicks my hair off my shoulder, and then his mouths on me, hot tongue gliding across my skin.

“You’re going to make me come in my pants,” he whispers as I continue rocking against him with my hands buried in his hair.

“Callum,” I moan, and his hand clamps down over my lips.

“Shhh,” he hushes me. “Keep moving.”

My panties are wet, the room hazy, every brush of my clit against him makes my body shudder and shake. He holds me tightly as my orgasm rips through me suddenly. Burying my head in his shoulder, he gasps when I bite into his shoulder. I wither and mewl until I’m nothing but a tingly mess afterward.

When I pull away, my head swaying, he sighs against my wet lips as he kisses me again. The shower switches off, and we both know we’ve only minutes before Maisie comes back.

“That was nice.”

He breathes a laugh. “Just nice?”

Smiling at him, he weirdly looks at me. Like he’s never seen me before. Becoming self-conscious, I touch my face. “Do I have something on my face?”

He shakes his head. “No, I just really like it when you smile.”

Something rips my chest, far worse than I’ve ever felt before. I’m falling for him even more, and it suddenly frightens me so much that I slip off his lap and step away. There’s a damp patch on his pants that he covers with his hand. Scrubbing his other down his face, he turns away from me. When Maisie comes out of the bathroom, he barges past her and goes inside.

Trying to hide my flush from her questioning stare, I sit on the bed.

How much further will I fall, and what if I don’t stop?

* * *

Penny bakeda chocolate cake for my birthday, which she puts in front of me before dinner is served. Nobody sings, which I’m glad for, as I awkwardly blow out the candles, deciding against making a wish. Father Aaron watches me closely, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Nothing is said as Penny dishes up our meals, and we eat in silence. Just as I take the last bite, Maisie straightens in her seat.

“My Lord?” My fork almost slips out of my hand. Father Aaron, who looks just as stunned as us that she’s speaking to him and addressing him as he likes, stares at her warily. “I must tell you something—something I can no longer keep to myself.”

Callum shifts beside me as Father Aaron clears his voice. “What is it?”

Maisie bows her head, tears dripping down her face. She’s upset?

“He touched me,” she whispers, lifting her eyes and looking straight at Callum. With an angry glare, she points at him. “He touched my breasts, my Lord, while Ava slept in the same room!”

My mouth drops open, and John bursts out laughing. I turn to look at Callum, who rolls his eyes, his lip curling with disgust. “I didn’t touch her. She’s lying.”

“You did,” Maisie sobs, looking back at Father Aaron. “I told him to stop—but he said he’d hurt me if I didn’t let him.”

Callum slams his fist against the table, and I jolt. “I fucking didn’t!”

“She’s mine,” Father Aaron sneers at Callum, kicking his chair back.

“She’s lying. She’s a fucking liar. Ava—” He turns to me, and it seems to only anger Father Aaron more. Circling the table, he grabs Callum around the neck, but Callum continues to plead that I believe him. “I didn’t go near her, I swear.”

My heart thumps hard against my chest, wanting to believe that he wouldn’t go near Maisie. But I can’t deny the pounding doubt. What about all the lies he’s told in the past? All he’s kept from me?

Turning back to Maisie, she’s still crying. Is she telling the truth? Why would she lie?

My stomach turns, envisioning him leaning over her, hand disappearing beneath her dress—

“John!” Father Aaron shouts as he wrestles Callum into the horror room. Still laughing, John downs a glass of wine before getting up. “Let’s make sure he never wants to touch what belongs to me again.”

“Sounds perfect, my Lord.”

“No! Wait!” I get up, but my legs won’t move as Callum’s dragged inside the room by them both. The door slams shut, and I can’t breathe. When I turn back to the table, Penny and Maisie are gone. Glancing behind me, I catch a glimpse of Maisie’s white dress as she runs from the dining room. I go after her. “Maisie?”

She’s gone upstairs, and I take two steps at a time, going after her. When I get to our bedroom, she’s sitting on the floor with her dress fanned out around her.

“What was that?” She doesn’t answer me. Enraged, I go to her to grab her shoulder, but that’s when I see what she’s doing. What she has. Callum’s sketchbook laying open on her lap. She’s looking at a real-life drawing of me asleep on the bed, my dress ripped open, my breasts poking out.

“I knew it.” Maisie finally points her glare at me. Hate and anger simmer ferociously in her eyes. “I knew there was something up with you two. I saw you both the other night. You were kissing in the bathroom when you thought I was asleep. But I wasn’t, and I couldn’t believe it when I saw him go in there while you were showering. I had to see for myself. And then today. I watched you throw yourself at him.”

My mouth goes bone dry. “Give me that.”

She scoffs. “I knew you were stupid and dumb, but I hardly believed you’re fucking him.” She gets off the floor. “You’re sicker than the lot of them.”

“Shut up!” I explode at her, heart banging furiously in my chest. “Shut up about things you don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You think you’re a perfect little wallflower, but really, you’re just a slut.”

My fists ball in anger. “Why did you lie about Callum touching you?”

“Who says I was lying? You’re just a notch on his bedpost, Ava. Like this girl was.” She flips to a page in the front and shows me a different girl with long hair and angry eyes. She’s gorgeous and oddly familiar. And then it hits me—it’s Orla. Maisie turns the page, and I glance away, disgusted at the intricate drawing of her naked and standing in the bathroom with a scowl on her face. Like maybe Callum walked in on her. “Like he wanted me to be. You know he’s always angry at me because he wants me. You were so easy for him to use you.”

No. I shake my head, trying not to let her words affect me, but they are, and my stomach tightens with sickness. “You’re wrong.”

Flicking to a page at the back, a lump blocks my throat at this drawing. Hands that look like his wrapped around Maisie’s neck while she lies on a bed. She’s smiling at him. Angry and in a sexual way.

And yet, I struggle to believe it means what it looks like. It’s just a drawing. Callum isn’t how she’s painting him to be as a sexual deviant when he’s never touched me against my will.

“You’re the one that’s wrong for loving a psycho.”

“Give me the book back. Now.”

Lifting her chin defiantly, she smirks, and it’s like I don’t know who she is at all. “There’s more—”

Throwing myself at her, I grab the book, which she isn’t expecting. My grip on the book tightens as she tries to pull it back. But then there’s the distinctive sound of it ripping. The already worn spine of the book is being pulled to its breaking point.

“Let go!” I yell at her. “You’re ripping it.”

“You let go!”

Too late. It tears right down the middle, causing us to stumble back with a half each. A strangled sob leaves my mouth. “Look at what you’ve done! You had no right to look at it!”

Just as I’m about to charge toward her, the door bursts open with a thundering bang. Father Aaron storms inside with blood on his hands and eyes on fire.

“Come. Both of you. It’s time for the ceremony.”