Path of Destruction Read online

  I quivered and allowed myself to just feel. His cock was so thick inside me, throbbing and growing impossibly harder.

  "Oh my God—" I choked on saliva when I felt Morgan between my legs. He buried his face and licked us right where Lincoln and I were joined. "Lincoln, I-I…he's…" My back arched as Morgan sucked greedily on my clit, and it made me cry out.

  The dizziness surrounded me. Pleasure took control, and I became an animal.

  Having my back to Lincoln meant I was facing the rest of the room. People were watching, and I didn’t even care. Only the mind-blowing sensations mattered. I rode Lincoln's cock, loving his rough and demanding hands on me, and bit my lip at the sight of Morgan using his mouth on us.

  I didn’t know what was the hottest, his groan as he tongued my clit or how eagerly he licked our juices from Lincoln's cock.

  "You won't kiss him again," Lincoln whispered roughly in my ear. "You hear that, Ade? That mouth is mine."

  He gripped my hips and thrust upward hard when I sank down, and my head fell back. The possessiveness of his statement engulfed me in flames and caused a buildup so fast that I let out a whine of protest and clung to him. I wanted him to fuck me like this forever, and instead, my orgasm was getting dangerously close way too soon.

  "Fuck." He lost control too, and when we met in a kiss, it was messy and needy and glorious. "I gotta come. Morgan, suck on her clit." He swallowed my moan, our breathing rapid and out of control. The warm and wet suction on my clit intensified everything, and before I knew it, I was crashing. My world imploded and sent me spiraling into a sea of euphoria.

  It would've been a perfect night to die.

  * * *

  2007

  "This is too much," I said uneasily.

  I remembered a time when I lived a life without boundaries. Nothing was too much, and I reached for the stars every night. Now my life was completely different. There were limits and restrictions everywhere, and if someone shook the shaky structure, it left me unsettled.

  For the first time in years, the tilt of the axis was a good one. I think. Yet, I didn’t know what to do about it.

  Abel's medication without insurance cost us seven hundred a month, and it was the amount I'd had the balls to admit to Lincoln's father. Burying whatever shame I had left, I'd told him that was the magic number, foregoing other bills we could barely cram in every month, better food we'd sort of forgotten at this point, and the ability to buy gas those last few days before the next paycheck arrived.

  All that paled in comparison to those seven hundred for Abel, so it was with tears in my eyes I'd accepted Mr. Hayes's first check. It'd been right there in his chicken scrawl. Seven hundred dollars.

  "Tell me if there's anything else you need, hon. Promise me that."

  I hadn't promised, too focused on swallowing my emotions and pushing back the embarrassment of having this kind man see the proof of my failure as a mother and provider. And maybe he'd taken guesses based on how our house looked…? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was the second check arrived in the mail today, and it was for fifteen hundred dollars.

  "I don't know what to do." I set the check on the kitchen table and stared at it as I wiped my clammy hands on my thighs. "Can we even accept it?"

  Jesse snapped out of his daze and snatched up the check. "Fuck yes, we can. Mom, I know you feel bad about it, but—"

  "That’s an understatement," I said abruptly.

  I usually shut my mouth and listened the few times he called me Mom. He viewed me as such, which humbled me beyond words, but I knew the term still caused some awkwardness for him. However, this time, I couldn’t be quiet. I didn’t merely feel bad about taking money from Lincoln; it was downright humiliating.

  "I, uh…" Mr. Hayes rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. "Lincoln wants to help out, but he has one condition."

  He'd changed his mind about the book, a topic still sore for me. It embarrassed the crap out of me, and for that to be brought up again… Ugh. I cringed.

  To Mr. Hayes, I'd spluttered a quick, "Oh, don't worry about it. It was a stupid idea in the first place. I've already let go of that."

  I glanced at the check again, feeling queasy.

  "It's a lot of money." I bit my thumbnail, unsure of how I could even thank someone properly for this. Calling Mr. Hayes was no issue, but that wouldn’t be enough, and the person I really should be thanking didn’t want to hear from me.

  "We could pay off some debt and maybe have a real Christmas," Jesse said quietly. "We could buy a tree?"

  I averted my eyes as they burned, and I nodded jerkily. There was no question. They deserved everything. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to—"

  "Hey." He grasped my shoulders, and when I met his gaze, he looked so damn much like his father that it hurt. They both had the kindest blue eyes that could turn firm and steely in a second. "It wouldn’t be just for Abel and me, dammit. When was the last time you got to enjoy the holidays, huh? I'm no fool. Last year, you barely fucking ate so you could buy us presents."

  I drew a shaky breath, thankful for his support but wishing he didn’t have to give it. I had to remain strong for them. Squaring my shoulders, I took the check from him and reached up to kiss his cheek.

  "Tomorrow, we're buying a tree."

  *

  I felt guilty for even being here. If we bought a fake tree, we could use it next year. We could even buy some of that scent you put in the tree to make it smell real. But no…the boys insisted on a real one, and Abel's puppy-dog eyes had won me over.

  Snow was falling heavily, and it would be dark soon. I wandered aimlessly up and down the makeshift aisles, content to let Abel and Jesse choose the tree. I saw price tags more than anything, so my choice probably wouldn’t have been very popular, anyway.

  "What about this one?" I heard Abel ask on the other side of where I stood in front of a row of trees. "It's big."

  Jesse chuckled. "Uh, yeah, maybe a bit too big. It would take up half the living room."

  I smiled softly to myself and pulled out my cell phone to check messages. There was some big convention at the hotel, so my boss had put me on call of some sort. If they got too busy, I would have to get over there.

  No messages from him so far, though there was one from Madigan. We hadn't spoken in a few months, so it was a happy surprise.

  I opened his text message and grinned wryly.

  I'm swearing off men. Can I crash at your place for a while? I'm done with Chicago, and I don't wanna go out to LA. Miss you.

  Madigan was hopeless. Of course he could stay with us; it wouldn’t be the first time. It also wouldn’t be the first time he ignored my advice and fell for guys who were emotionally unavailable. He had a thing for the broken, and he tended to end up the broken one when all was said and done.

  I replied before my fingers could freeze.

  You know where I live. I'm sure the boys will be thrilled to see you. xo

  "Mom! We found our tree!" Abel called.

  I pressed send and pocketed my phone, then went to search for Abel and Jesse. I found them in a corner holding up a large tree, and the two silly grins on their faces kinda made it all worth it.

  Right then and there, I made the decision to make this the best Christmas I possibly could. I'd paid all the urgent bills and set aside some money for later, and the rest was, for once, going to be spent on whatever kept those smiles in place.

  "That’s great," I said, mustering all the enthusiasm I had. "Let's head over to Michaels and pick up some decorations, shall we?"

  Chapter 11

  Lincoln Hayes

  2008

  Christmas came and went. I avoided holidays as much as possible, mainly 'cause they weren't reasons to celebrate. Sure, we got marginally better food on those rare occasions, but mostly, they were reminders of what we missed. Holidays were marks in the calendar. Marks in the calendar meant time passed. Time wasted. Life wasted.

  Holidays also made me fucking wistful and no
stalgic. The day I thought, Hey, I wonder how Ade's doing, I legit banged my head against a wall.

  In my defense, I was getting sick, and when the new year was rung in, I had my head in the toilet. Kid offered me the bottom bunk, making it easier for me to get to the can. A little past midnight, he made it back to the cell, and the lights went out shortly after. No partying, no New Year's resolutions.

  "I smuggled out a juice box for you." He left it next to my pillow and hopped up to my bunk. "If the fever doesn’t break tomorrow, I think you should go to the infirmary."

  Maybe. It felt like a common bug, though. It was that time of year. Several inmates were sick, and there were no fucks given about stopping a flu from spreading. It was the cruise ship from hell. Once one got sick, everyone followed.

  "Distract me," I said hoarsely. I'd slept all day and could use some conversation before the next bout of nausea attacked.

  He hummed. "You've written more." His fingernail scratched the wall, presumably tracing the words. "It's too dark. What does it say?"

  My stomach cramped, and I turned to my side and let out a labored breath. "I had to break in the pen you gave me for Christmas."

  "Well, you go through them like a whore goes through customers."

  Bah. I was too weak to smile. "'How did you, how did you become so much,'" I said quietly, quoting the lyrics I'd penned on the wall. "'Your scribbled notes my bookmark, your body my canvas… You were my beautiful lie, my escape, and I stumbled…'" I coughed and cleared my throat. "'How did you, how did you become so much. A road we shared; I'll never forget—'" When I closed my eyes, I saw her in the first row of the sea of people. She danced and sang to the music we played on stage. "'The roar of the crowd, green eyes, that…stunning smile, and…how you became so much.'"

  It was getting easier. Over time, I accepted Ade in my mind. She wouldn’t leave, so I made peace with it—somewhat. Letting her visit in October remained a big fucking regret, though what was done was done. I couldn’t go back in time and turn her away.

  There was a balance. She kept quiet if I let her take over every once in a while. I spent those nights rereading the letter I'd saved. I played guitar sometimes, too. Either in the rec room or in the chapel on Sundays. It was difficult for a day or two after that, but once I pulled through, I lived on as usual. I counted, I worked, I ate, I followed the herd.

  That said, I was still ridiculous for even wondering how she was doing now. My thoughts on her were about the past. There was no present time for me.

  "Will you ever tell me about her?" Kid asked softly. "I hear you sometimes, you know. In your sleep. She was important to you."

  She was everything.

  Or used to be. I didn’t know the person she was today.

  "Maybe another time." I yawned and pushed down the blanket a bit. I wasn’t as cold anymore, so that had to be a good thing. The fever sweats would follow soon. "Can you pass me the letter under the pillow?"

  He shuffled around, and I heard the crinkle of paper. His hand appeared above, and I grabbed the only piece of Ade's book I was hooked on. Chapter four. Or, hooked on without having to suffer horrible consequences for enjoying it.

  "Is she dead?"

  Jesus. "No." She was very much alive, thank fuck. "This wasn’t really what I had in mind when I asked for a distraction, Kid."

  He laughed quietly. "All right. What do you want, then? A blow job?"

  Ah, no. I was afraid he was starting to like giving head. "Is there a closet you wanna come out of?"

  He got quiet for a beat, and I thought back on the morning after in New Orleans. I'd run into Morgan at the breakfast buffet. He was skittish, which I obviously used against him.

  I bumped into him from behind in the line at the egg station, and he threw an irritated look over his shoulder. His hangover was gone in an instant, and he widened his eyes.

  I smirked. "So you like dick, huh?"

  It was hilarious how quickly he went back to his hungover scowl. "God," he muttered. "Don't let last night get to your head, Hayes."

  "What head?" I grabbed two plates, one for me and one for Ade. "If I'm not mistaken, you got my head pretty good."

  He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "What Adeline sees in you, I'll never know." He glanced behind me, as if the thought of seeing her made him nervous. "Where is she?"

  "Asleep." I started filling my plate with scrambled eggs.

  "I'm avoiding her for a while," he said, reluctant. "I'm not sure I can stomach it if she finds me creepy now."

  I snorted. "She digs you, man. Don’t worry about it." I guess he wasn’t too bad. The way he looked out for Ade was a reason to admire him, not get jealous.

  Kid's question shook me out of the memory. "Would it be wrong if I liked both guys and girls?"

  I shifted on to my back. "No, it wouldn’t be wrong. Just don’t advertise that shit in here." No amount of protection and bulking up would keep him from becoming someone's bitch.

  *

  I felt better a few days later but hadn't returned to work yet. Around lunch, I trailed into an empty rec room and asked for the acoustic guitar. There were words on the tip of my tongue, and I wanted to write. Not lyrics this time. I just wanted to dig a little in the box of memories and clear my head. The letter in my pocket and some playing should do the trick. It'd been a while since I wrote to my father, so I hoped he wouldn’t mind I vented.

  We only talked on the phone these days. It was quicker. Though, there was something about receiving letters. Getting a letter from Pop would be a hell of a lot simpler. They were keepsakes that didn’t cause a fucking ulcer.

  I took a seat, tossing my legal pad and pen on the table, and I strummed for a while, each passing minute making me feel like a musician again. It was a nice break, one I probably indulged in too often. From having not played in a decade to a coming here or to a church service a couple times a month…? It was an adjustment. Kid, Nunez, and the others would disagree and say I didn’t play enough, but they didn’t seem to have identity issues.

  What was I doing wrong?

  I took breaks here and there to write to Pop, keeping it casual at first. I asked about the ranch and his never-ending repairs on it. I asked how life was, something I avoided otherwise. I wasn’t part of his life, and that stung. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time. I asked if he was chasing skirts full time now that he was retired from his years as a trucker. Much like me, he loved being on the road.

  Like father, like son. We were a lot alike, except he'd succeeded where I'd failed. His feet had never left the ground.

  I remembered when I called him after my arrest. Jesus Christ, I'd never been more ashamed. This was the bastard who'd raised me alone and done everything for me. I had no memories of my mother, who split when I was a kid. Instead, my childhood was a running recollection of Pop encouraging me to pursue music. He took me to gigs in the city, bought me my first guitar, and usually had a record or something for me when he returned from long hauls.

  Pulling out the chapter of Ade's book that I'd saved, I flattened the pages against the table. The edges were starting to look worn. I'd read them too many times, especially the last page.

  It always came back to music. And her. At some point during that summer, she got me. She understood the journey that music was for me.

  Remember you told me you didn’t understand why I wanted a regular ticket to your shows rather than standing backstage?

  This was why. Standing in a sea of screaming fans, I got to see what a god you were on stage.

  The arena was vibrating with energy. They shouted the band's name. Did you hear it? You must have. I can't imagine what it would be like to stand backstage and hear thousands of people screaming for you. It was dark, yet the place was so alive. And then a gasp rushed through the mass when the seductive wail of your guitar traveled across the arena. One spotlight hit the stage, and there you were. The screaming returned. You delivered a heavy intro, and even to this day, I can't describe th
e burst of emotion. You made me shake. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I smiled so big my cheeks hurt.

  You fucked the audience with your skillful fingers, and that was it, wasn’t it? You didn’t see us. Everything was about the music, and you wanted to show us your world. Each riff was a journey into your mind, beckoning us to come closer.

  Sometimes I still feel that rush of euphoria, like a reminder of the intensity we shared, a reminder of my feelings.

  I leaned back and blew out a heavy breath.

  Was music still a thing for her? What was her escape?

  Thinking back on her visit, I kinda doubted she was using. She looked healthier, curvier, and more alert.

  "For fuck's sake." I groaned quietly and scrubbed at my face. I was becoming obsessed. Balance, my ass. There was no goddamn balance. I was spiraling.

  How could I have been so arrogant…? After not hearing a word for years, her request to visit me last year hadn't even fazed me. I'd felt closed off enough to shrug at it. No big deal. I'd agreed to let her file the application to see me. The indifference Kid spoke of was real then. I hadn't felt a damn thing…at first.

  The joke was on me. I'd exploded the second I left the visitation area. Since then, I didn’t even know what indifference was.

  I'd thought more of Ade and our history these past few months than I had in the previous several years combined, and it couldn’t fucking go on like this.

  I changed my mind. Returning the guitar, I decided that was it. No venting to Pop, either. It wasn’t sane. No more music, no more Ade—done. I needed a new hobby. Kid could teach me how to play chess or something. He was a nerd.

  *

  I figured out what worked. Not being a self-centered asshole. By focusing more on Kid, I got a break from myself and started getting to know the guy I'd shared a cell with for over a year now.

  For one, he was a sore loser, and though chess was boring as fuck, it wasn’t difficult. Or, he was a shit opponent. We hit up the rec room and played after dinner for a couple weeks, and he hadn't beaten me since the first day. Most games ended with him calling me a cheater.