I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried, but really, why would I, when my life is literally all I ever wanted it to be?
Crew Taylor is mine, and my brother is back, clean, and staying with us.
Us!
Me, Crew, and Memphis under the same roof again after all these years.
There is a little tension, understandably so, since Memphis fell into a world of addiction, and all it entails, while Crew steered clear of that lifestyle, having lived through what his father had become. But Memphis is clean now, and they were best friends once.
Maybe they can find a soft place in the middle again, in time.
I haven’t gotten to see Crew much since our time together on Monday, if you don’t count Memphis’s arrival Tuesday afternoon. With work and my brother being here, I’ve avoided going to the bar in the evenings, feeling as if home is where I needed to be as much as possible. Plus, I haven’t exactly mentioned where Crew works in front of Memphis, not that he’s asked, but I’m not sure what to say or how to say it. As far as I know, the mere mention of a bar or anything alcohol related could have a painful triggering effect, forcing him to have to check himself back into another program.
Those are concerns for another day, though.
Tonight, I need some time with Crew. I miss him, miss us, and I know if I’m feeling a little out of it, he must be too.
Luckily, Memphis went to bed early, tired from a long day of online applications, so I wrote a note, just in case he wakes, and am on my way to see Crew.
Layla and I had rescheduled our meeting for Friday, but then she called to cancel, saying she wasn’t feeling well, and her cold lasted long after the weekend. I hate that for her, but I can’t pretend I wasn’t happy she was the one who canceled, so I didn’t have to let her down again, and I think that would have happened. Leaving Memphis when I don’t absolutely have to makes me uneasy. But she called me today, finally back to her old self, and Willie, the godsend he is, offered to step in at the bar tonight if I needed him to—with events at the bar both Monday and Tuesday this week, Crew is set to work twelve days straight. Clearly, Willie is worried about his friend and aware my time has been spread thin lately, Crew on the lowest receiving end, so I took him up on his offer.
He’s meeting me at the bar to help finish off the night, on the condition I don’t get out and walk in alone, and like he said he would be, he’s waiting at the edge of the parking lot for me to pull in.
We waste no time heading inside, but I pause, frowning at the bouncer who nods our way, counting back cash to the group of girls waiting to be let in.
“What—”
My voice is drowned out by the loud bass of the band, Willie not pausing his steps with mine, but continuing to drag me along, headed straight for the dark-haired man behind the counter.
The moment he spots us in the cluster of customers, the flat expression on Crew’s face morphs to confusion, to worry, and then glee.
It’s adorably endearing.
He stops mid-pour, passing a bottle of something off to Paula, and all but runs around the side of the bar, his big-ass body nearly colliding with mine and lifting me off my feet.
My arms go around him, and I laugh, burying my face in his neck as he nuzzles mine.
“You come to eat all your snacks and bury yourself in fluffy pillows?”
“I came to steal you away, so I can hold you tonight.”
Crew’s head pops up, and he shakes it. “Baby, I can’t leave, this place is—”
“Swamped? Packed?” I play with the tips of his hair. “Charging for entry?”
Crew tucks my hair behind my ear. “Some little genius told me how to increase revenue. Seems people love the idea of a free drink.”
I smile as he sets me to my feet, a teeny, tiny hint of something sour in the back of my throat. Disappointment with a little longing maybe. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to stress over it if it didn’t work out,” he says.
Guilt mixed with a touch of rejection rolls through me, and I get the feeling it’s a little more than that but shake it off. I came to enjoy time with him, not worry about other things.
Hugging me to him, he leads me toward the bar, but I dig my heels into the ground, and he faces me.
“Sweets…”
“Just look over there.”
Willie is already in Crew’s vacated spot, keeping up like a champ, Drew on his right, Paula his left. Kenli snatches a tray from Drew, and weaves in and out of the seating zones, setting two drinks here, three there, and pausing for orders on her circle back.
“He’s staying to help with closing. Layla’s sister is in town, so she’s covered. Nothing to worry about.”
Crew stares a moment, and then he whips around, diving into my neck and biting softly. “Wrong, Sweets, so much to worry about, starting with finding a way to keep you quiet when I fuck you tonight.”
“Yes, please,” I moan. “It’s been too long.”
Crew chuckles as I yank him toward the door, but before we make it, he pulls me back, his hands looping around my waist and then he starts to sway.
“Babe, bed.”
Crew’s lips curve against my temple, but instead of leading us out the door, he leads me where we stand. “Soon, baby, but right now, I wanna dance with my woman a while.”
My eyes close, my stomach fluttering at the softness in his voice, at the patience in his touch and his need—his desire—to do nothing but hold me close.
My arms wrap around him, and I melt into his frame. “Yes, please.”
My mind whispers to me then, something I’m pretty sure I’ve always known, but this moment makes sure to trigger a necessary reminder.
I need nothing in my life like I need Crew.
Not even Memphis.
Crew
She’s putty in my palms, every inch of her molded perfectly to every inch of me. The little minx had plans for me when she came here tonight, coaxing me into the passenger seat after exiting the bar, pulling over in the same orchard we were caught in on the way home, and climbing over to settle herself in my lap, her back to my chest.
And I’m about to reward her for it.
Gliding my hands along her waist, I continue down until I’m dipping between her legs and guiding them open, so her knees can hook over my thighs. Pulling down the sun visor, I adjust it until her pink panties are in view in the mirror.
“Are you putting on a show for me?” She drops her head back, turning it to kiss my jaw.
“Sorry, Sweets.” I nudge her with my nose, clamping my lips over her neck for a quick taste. “That’s purely for me.”
A soft mewl leaves her, and she presses her ass into me, her voice low and thick with need. “Liar.”
“Liar?” I tease, nipping at her skin.
“Everything you do is for me, if not both of us.”
My chest rumbles, and I take her mouth.
She sees it, understands. Believes.
I must be doing something right.
While I have her distracted, I hike her dress up, reaching between her legs to wrap the material of her panties around both my pointer fingers. One good tug, and they shred, my eyes flying to the mirror. My cock twitches beneath her at the sight of her bare pussy staring back at me from above.
Davis turns her head to look, her muscles contracting. I click the AC on, angling the vent low, and her back bows the second the chilled air hits her most sensitive spot.
“Crew, please,” she pants, her hand sneaking behind her in an attempt to squeeze me through my jeans.
“Up.”
She’s quick to perch on her toes, holding herself on the suicide bar above the door as I hastily shove my pants down my legs, my boxers with them.
My cock bounces free, straining when I grip it tight, and Davis needs no direction. She finds me, holds me at the edge of her entrance and drops down, her legs instantly flying back into the position I had her, a sharp gasp filling the air.
“Finally,” she breathes, her hips rolling instantly.
I drop my seat back a bit and grab hold, leading her to do the work while I watch from the mirror.
Her pussy is slick and soaked, my cock thanking her for it, swelling thicker, growing longer, and filling her completely.
Davis’s head finds my shoulder as she dances on my dick, and I tug her dress beneath her breasts, freeing them and watching as her nipples sharpen, begging for attention.
“Love the way you feel, baby,” I rasp, touching no other part of her tits but the nipples.
I tug, stretching them as far as they allow and she clenches over me, her speed picking up.
My smirk spreads along her cheek. “You like a bit of rough play.”
“I like everything you do.” She moans, then picks up speed, her hips grinding, breaths sharpening.
My mouth drops open, my head falls back, eyes closing as I focus on the feel of her.
The warmth of her heat.
The rhythm of her hips.
Her.
It’s not long before she’s pulsing, begging, as if she has no clue she’s bringing herself to the edge, grinding and angling as she pleases, seeking out her orgasm and demanding it on her terms. It’s sexy as hell, but I’m a jealous motherfucker, as is my cock.
He wants to own her cum, so I take over.
My palm presses on her spine, and as if she was waiting for this, for me to take control, she hums in answer, willingly falling forward.
Gripping her hair, I hold it tight, my hips thrusting into her with force, nothing but heavy breathing and sweet, sloppy slaps filling the car.
She moans, long and deep, and then she shatters, clenching, pulsing, and squeezing around my cock.
“There we go, baby.”
“Don’t st-stop,” she stutters, her forearms folded on the dash, body slick with sweat but desperate for more.
My groan is deep, and I lift her ass up, staring in the mirror as I drive in and out of her, her body limp, but refusing to let me go. I pick up speed, and she whimpers, squirming, and with one final slam into her, she throws herself back, hitting my chest.
I clamp her nipples firmly between my fingers, sucking the slope of her neck even harder, enough to leave a mark. A big one and she cries into the car, her every muscle quaking with a second, longer, stronger release.
“I can’t… mmm.” Her hips keep rolling slowly. Painfully.
My brows snap together, my breaths short and ragged.
Minutes go by and she’s still riding me with barely there movements. She doesn’t stop until her limbs refuse to listen, and then she’s deadweight in my arms.
I free my dick, carefully maneuvering her, so she’s cradled in my lap, and I hold her there until her breathing settles. Her eyes begin to close, so I ease her into the seat as I slip from the car, grinning when she tugs me by the collar, desperate to keep me close.
“I’m just gonna get us home, baby.”
“I love you,” she whispers.
“Love you, too.”
“Take me home, tuck me in, and hold me until morning?”
“It’s cute you think you have to ask.”
An exhausted chuckle escapes her, and then her eyes close, so I quickly run around and slip into the driver’s seat.
And I take my baby home.
The room is still dark when a loud crash sounds in the hall, and I fly up in bed, Davis slowly stirring beside me. My pulse pounds as I quickly rush to the door, tearing it open, but I jerk to a stop at the sight of Memphis, picking up a chair he clearly knocked over.
He laughs lightly, lifting and scooting it back into place.
“My bad,” he whispers, headed back into his temporary room.
My blood heats, my teeth clenching as I stalk forward, but Davis’s voice wraps around me from behind.
“Everything okay?” she rasps.
Freezing, I swallow. “Go back to sleep, Sweets.”
I head for the kitchen, pull the trash out, and, sure enough, there’s a pile of unused paper towels on top. Shoving them aside, I find the empty bottle.
My frown doubles as I stare at it. Fucking seriously? He went hunting under the bathroom fucking sink?
“How could you?”
My head snaps up, eyes narrowing on Davis, who stands with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes pinched.
“What?”
“You…” She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “You brought that here. From the hospital. I told you, no alcohol here. How could you be so careless?”
“You had a cut that had to be cleaned.”
“Why didn’t you throw it out after?”
My head tugs back. “This is my fault? He drank rubbing alcohol to get smashed, and this is my fault?”
“You know I don’t keep it in the house, and this is why!” she whisper-shouts. “In case one day, he came home, and he came home, Crew. Sober. I can’t have alcohol anywhere near here, not while he’s trying to get better.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, unsure of what to say to the one person in the world I hate to disappoint over anyone else. She doesn’t realize what she’s saying, and that might be the hardest fucking part.
The bedroom door opens and Memphis steps into the hall, a small scowl on his face, but this time, it’s pointed at his sister.
Instinctively, I move to shelter her from his bullshit, but she quickly moves toward him.
“Memph—”
“I didn’t drink it,” he tells her, lifting his shirt to show a large bandage over his left side.
Davis gasps, shooting forward. “What happened?”
Memphis drops his shirt, taking a few backward steps, and she halts her advance.
“I went with you to several stores the other day, Davis.” He avoids her question. “Have been by myself all week while you were at work. I could have gone for a bottle, but it’s like I said, it’s under control.”
“Memphis, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
I eye him, but he doesn’t even glance my way.
“It’s okay, I get it. You’re the one who found me on the bathroom floor last time I touched that shit in a desperate moment.”
Her tears fall, and she nods, watching as he backs into the room, closing the door behind him.
Her hand flies up to cover her mouth to muffle her cries, and she turns into my chest.
Limbs numb to her warmth, I wrap them around her, guiding us back to her room.
She drops onto the edge of her bed, face falling into her palms as she cries softly, but I can’t bring myself to sit.
I can’t.
I’m… fucking terrified, because when it comes to Davis, I’ve never been able to snag the number one spot. I think I was close, real close, but now? With him back?
Never.
She will always choose him over me, and she already has, whether she realizes it or not, whether she means to or not. Hell, he’s her family, maybe she’s supposed to.
Maybe I’m being a little bitch.
Maybe this is what I deserve for hiding all the shit he put me through, for covering up everything he’s done and being his fall guy. For shielding her from the truths I didn’t want her to have to bear the weight of. I thought that was what you did for someone you love, protect them, no matter the lies told along the way.
Maybe none of that was right.
“Davis…”
Slowly, her head lifts, her face streaked with tears, brows furrowing. The crestfallen expression on her face has me wanting to drop to my knees before her, but my feet hold still.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she says so low, I almost miss it.
Honesty is the best and worst fucking way to go, even when she knows the answer before I say it.
“Because I came home tonight reeking of too many liquors to count, like I do every night. Like I will every day that follows.” My world is built on what she’s trying so hard to protect her brother from.
The small frown along her forehead deepens, her mind trying to work through the meaning behind my words. No more than seconds pass and her lips begin to tremble.
My chest stings, temples pounding as I wait for her to say something.
Her inhale is sharp and piercing, straight into my fucking gut.
This time, I do drop in front of her, her cries tearing me apart, piece by pathetic piece.
Her hands come up, cupping my cheeks as she stares into my eyes, her thumbs stroking the sharp edge of my jaw that I can’t seem to relax, and I lean into the touch.
Her tears fall over her cheeks faster now, and I catch a few, swiping them away, but they just keep coming, her breaths now shaky, soft sobs.
“I don’t know what to do, Crew. He needs someone’s help. He needs me.” I need you. “I’ve waited years for him to be ready to get clean.”
I’ve waited years for you.
My teeth clench, and I offer her a tight smile.
Davis throws herself at me, knocking me on my ass, and curling into my lap. Her hands tether around me and mine do the same, holding her close to my chest.
I press my cheek to her temple, eyes closing. This is fucking rough.
I hate Memphis more than I hate my own fucking dad, and that’s saying something, but I can’t tell her this. She loves him more than anyone in the world.
She loves him more than she loves me.
She’ll choose him, if it came to that, but I would never make her face the question or say the words. I would never force her into a position of guilt that would only lead to resentment.
“Don’t leave me, Crew. Please don’t leave me.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens, and slowly, I pull back, needing to meet her gaze.
The moment her tear-stained face finds mine, her features pull tight with confusion, and even tighter as realization sets in.
“Crew…” Her voice cracks.
I’d almost swear my ribs did too.
She shifts suddenly, so she’s straddling me, but only so she can possess my full attention.
“Crew, this is… this is real for me,” she whispers, her palms falling to my chest, pressing over the date marked on me. “At first, I didn’t know if I fit in your new world because I was, well, me, but I’ve never felt more like myself than I do when I’m a part of it. I want to be a part of it. I want you to want me forever because I know now that I have you, I can’t go back to before us. I don’t want to. Having Memphis here this past week has been amazing, a prayer answered, if I’m honest. We can figure out how to be us with him around because I do want him here, but Crew, I need you here. I need you like I need nothing else. Not for now, not for a while, for always.”
My heart is beating out of control, a knot forming in my throat as too many thoughts, hopes and damn dreams overwhelm me all at once.
My limbs begin to shake, and she brings herself closer, forcing me to confess, “I own the bar.”
She stills. “What?”
“Sideways Sippin’. It’s mine. I’m still paying off the last owner, but it’s mine, Sweets.”
Her tear-streaked face furrows. “What… since when?”
“Last year. I didn’t plan on it, I only started working there because it was the only job I could get at the time, but then the opportunity came, and I realized I was interested. I needed to build a life I could be proud of, have something worth a damn.”
Something to offer you, a way to take care of you, like a good man would, like your dad did for your mom and your grandpa for your grandma.
The deflated expression on her face has me wanting to set her on the pedestal she deserves, all so I can drop to my knees before her and beg her to stay, but Davis never ceases to amaze me.
She draws me closer. Her hands come up, pressing into my cheeks as she stares into my eyes. “I hate you felt like you had to hide such an accomplishment from me, but I am so proud of you, Crew.” She strokes my lips with her thumb. “So proud,” she whispers, tears brimming her brown eyes.
It only takes a moment for her to realize what I thought the revelation would lead to, considering it was a valid fear. I don’t have many things I fear, and all are wrapped around the woman in front of me.
“Baby,” she breathes. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”
My forehead falls to hers, her words her way of telling me, no matter the situation, she’s choosing me for me.
One hand slides up her back, the other easing into her hair, drawing her lips to mine. “The only way I would ever leave you is if you told me to go.” I close my eyes, pressing my mouth to hers. “But not before I put up one hell of a fight to stay.”
She sighs into my mouth, and then she claims it as her own, kissing me until exhaustion sets in and her head falls to my shoulder.
I lift us, lowering back into the bed.
Davis doesn’t stir once, staying in a deep sleep, but I can’t say the same for me.
Her words mean more than I know how to express, and I believe each one spoken, but that’s not what keeps me up the rest of the night.
It’s knowing I have to be back at work tomorrow, haven’t told my best friend what’s going on, and the fact I have to keep Davis away from the place I want her.
It’s the look in Memphis’s eyes tonight, the yellow hue surrounding the irises, and the laugh that left him before he walked back into the room. It’s the fact that that bottle was more than three-fourths full and hidden beneath napkins.
It’s how he wouldn’t let her get too close and the wrap on his stomach.
It’s the chatty fucker outside of the farmers’ market and the “interest” he had in what kind of work I did that required boxes of fresh fruits.
It’s the fact that following that day, a beady-eyed bastard’s been posted in the farthest corner of my bar each night, ordering a beer he doesn’t touch.
This is how it started our freshman year at Avix.
Big fuckers in steel-toe boots—that hurt like a bitch when connecting to the gut—sat in the stands at our games.
Parked in our spots at our dorms and slowly, somehow slipped into our classes, sat right behind us, and literally breathed down our necks.
Because Memphis has little self-control, and when it slips?
We all fucking fall.
