Hardcore: Volume 2, Page 2

  Erin screamed over her shoulder, “Get the fuck out of here, Jade. Now.”

  I struggled against Erin. “I will fucking kill you, you bitch. Let me go, Erin. LET ME GO.”

  But Jade only stood there, staring me down. She wiped the blood from her red nose with a fucked up smile on her face before she walked out of the loft.

  Erin loosened her grip, and I shook her off, spun around, and flew to my room.

  My trembling hands closed the door to my room before slipping into bed. The thundering in my head was loud enough that it was all I could hear, and my entire body pulsed to the beat of my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut as sweat beaded on my forehead, and I sucked in a deep breath through my nose.

  My equilibrium was fucked, but at least my body would heal.

  The components of my life had been stacked into a rickety tower of bad decisions that had hit the tipping point. Everything was falling in slow motion, and it was only a matter of time before it hit the ground. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to get through, and as I lay in my cold, quiet room, trying not to vomit, the clock ticked down the seconds to the time when it was over. I just wished I knew when that would be.

  Jade. Rage flowed at the thought of her name.

  A quick knocked popped, and Erin opened the door, looking wired.

  I said nothing.

  She closed the door and sat next to me. I stared at the pipes.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Jade.”

  “We will. But let’s start with making sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. None of us are. I hope to God she doesn’t come back until we’ve all had time to cool down. The last thing you need is to get in another fight.”

  “I don’t know what else to say, Erin. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  She rubbed her face. “There has to be some way out of this.” Her statement was earnest, and as much as I wanted it to be true, it just wasn’t.

  “Yeah, well when you figure it out, let me know.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, and she shifted to lie down next to me.

  “What are we going to do when she comes back?” I asked. “Because I know what I want to do. And now I’m supposed to do this job with her? I’m going to fucking kill her. There’s no way I can get through this.”

  “No, not right now. Hopefully she stays gone so we can figure out what to do.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out. We’ve just got to calm down. All of us.”

  Erin snorted. “Good luck explaining that to Morgan. I’m sure she’s sharpening her shiv as we speak.”

  “Maybe we should find somewhere else to stay until this is over. Just leave Jade here. I don’t want you all involved in this.”

  “Too late. Jade already dragged us into it. I blame her for everything.”

  I cracked a tiny smile at the exaggeration. “Everything?”

  “Everything. The leaky faucet in the bathroom. Starving children in Africa. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the embodiment of everything that’s wrong in the world.”

  “She’s lost her fucking mind, but if I hadn’t met Van, none of this would have happened.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  I turned to face her, staring at her collarbone, or trying to. My eyes kept slipping out of focus. “It would have been easier for everyone if I hadn’t. But I did, and now we’re all paying for it. It’s like I stepped on a land mine and now the entire brigade is punched full of shrapnel. All that’s left of me is dust.”

  She looked me over. “We’re all going to be okay, including you.” She touched my chin, urging me to look at her. “This isn’t your fault. It’s her fault. Maybe partly my fault.”

  “Your fault?”

  “If I hadn’t mentioned the painting, Jade would have never known.”

  I shook my head. “The second she figured out he was rich, she would have tried to exploit it.” I took a deep breath. “I have to forget about Van and do this job. We’re from different worlds. It never would have worked out.”

  “Cory—”

  “No, really. It’s better to end it now.”

  Erin sighed. “When are you going to see him?”

  I still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “As soon as possible.”

  “Has he texted you?”

  The knot in my stomach tightened. “I don’t even know where my phone is.”

  Her brow furrowed as she got up. “I think it’s in the kitchen. Let me grab it.”

  Erin left and returned a few seconds later with my phone in her hand. She passed it over.

  A text waited on my lock screen from Van, and I opened my messages to read the entire thing.

  If you’re thinking of me a fraction of the time I’m thinking about you, I’ll be a happy man. When can I see you again?

  My eyes stung, and I bit down hard on my lip as I texted him back.

  What’s your day like tomorrow?

  “Fuck all of this, Erin,” I said as I waited for his response.

  Her eyes were sad. My phone buzzed.

  Wide open, now that you asked. Want to meet at my place around 10?

  Sure. See you then.

  I tossed my phone like it was on fire. It buzzed again, but I couldn’t even look.

  I traced the pipes with my eyes like I had a million times, as if there were answers tangled up somewhere in them. “I can’t do this, and I can’t not do this.”

  Her eyes were on me, but I wouldn’t meet them. “If you’re determined that this is the only way—”

  “I am.”

  She sighed. “Well, then you only have to see him once more before you can move on.”

  I rolled over to face her. “How did I get here? How did I get to this fucked up place?”

  Erin pushed my hair back over my shoulder and tucked a lock behind my ear. “One foot in front of the other. Same way that you’ll get out of it.” Erin looked over me for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Cory.”

  I tried to smile. “One foot in front of the other.”

  She wrapped me in her arms, and I shifted, closing my eyes, wishing I could make it disappear.

  THE FLORESCENT LIGHTS IN the loft’s bathroom buzzed over me the next morning as I leaned against the counter, staring at my reflection. The paleness of my skin against the black of my hair was shocking, and my eyes were bloodshot, even though I’d slept most of the day before. The lights seemed to suck the color out of everything. I looked as gray and tired as I felt.

  I’d woken at some point in the middle of the night, having slept through the entire day. I lay in my quiet room in the small hours of the morning with my mind on the tangled mess of my life until the blue shades of night shifted to purples, through the oranges and yellows of dawn. But I found no answers in the cracks and piping over my bed. There were no answers to find.

  I couldn’t fight back because I was scared of what would happen if I did. I couldn’t predict what Jade would do. She was a loose cannon full of rusty nails. And as strong as everyone thought I was, it was a lie. I was more afraid than any of them. And Van was just another person I would hurt along the way.

  But there was no time to mourn. Today marked the first step toward betraying him.

  He shouldn’t have mattered to me. I shouldn’t have cared. But I did. I told myself it was just infatuation, a glorified idea of who he was, a sick crush fueled by hormones that made it so hard to walk away from him. Maybe it was that I’d finally opened that forgotten window to my heart and let in an emotional avalanche. Maybe it was the fact that he was the closest thing to perfect that I’d ever known, or that he made me want to be more than I was.

  Or maybe it was the realization that in another life, we might have had a chance to be together, a chance we wouldn’t have in this one.

  I looked into my own eyes, the dullest version of green that they ever were. I was a washed-out version of myself, a copy of a copy. The person who I thought I was didn’t e
xist, and I didn’t recognize the person I found in the shadows.

  I walked down the hall and out the door, flipping up my hood. The sleep had done my body well. I was at somewhere around eighty-five percent — no headache, no more nausea. Not from the concussion, at least.

  As I spanned the blocks to The Kyle Building, I tried to prepare myself for the conversation, as I had been for hours. I didn’t know if he’d accept me walking away, wondered if I’d have to push him. I had to tell him something, but what? I could feed him a line, or I could tell him the truth. I imagined saying the words, pictured the betrayal in his eyes, in his voice. Instead, I would spare us both that pain.

  By the time I walked up the sidewalk to his building, I just wanted it to be over and behind me.

  George waited at the door, smiling wide. He tipped his hat as I approached him. “Hello, Miss James.”

  “Hello. Thank you, George.” My smile was as thin as my nerve. I walked through the lobby and stepped into the cold, mirrored box as dread crawled around in my chest.

  I found myself standing at his door, waiting. I didn’t know what for. A sign maybe. Something to change my mind or stop the momentum of what was happening. But nothing came, and nothing would.

  I closed my eyes and knocked.

  He greeted me with an easy smile and pulled me into his arms fast enough that he didn’t notice I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t even pull away. The comfort was too much to resist, and I closed my eyes.

  His chest rumbled against my cheek when he spoke. “It’s only been one day since I’ve seen you, but it feels like a year.”

  “I know.” God, how I knew.

  Van leaned back and smiled down at me, so excited that he’d still overlooked my demeanor. I wanted to pretend for a second more, wanted to be the reason he was happy. But I was a fraud.

  “I thought we could run today, if you’re up for it. I wanted to bring my camera and take some pictures of you.” His eyes were bright and open, and the crack in my heart split wider.

  We need to talk. I willed my lips to speak the words. They didn’t move.

  My brain tripped over the thought that if we ran, I could get the code for the roof access door. Pin locks were easy to hack. The wear on the buttons took out all the guesswork, though I’d still need to put together the sequence. It would save time if I knew.

  It was that easy to convince myself. I could run with him. I could give him another few hours. Or at least I told myself that it was for him.

  I tried to smile, but I knew it was weak. “Sure.”

  That was the moment when he finally saw me. His face fell, the shift small enough that I knew he didn’t realize the gravity of what I was hiding. He cupped my cheek. “You okay?”

  I laid my hand over his and tried harder to reassure him. “Yeah, just tired.”

  “You sure you’re up for a run? We can go another day.”

  And with that impossible statement, the vice around my heart screwed tighter. “I’m up for it.”

  “Good.” His worry melted away and bliss took its place. “But first …”

  His fingers touched my chin, lifting it as he brought his lips to mine in a way that healed and broke me all at once. I didn’t think I would ever have the chance to touch him again, and I memorized the moment, every point where our bodies touched, every kiss. His arms wrapped around my waist, and mine twisted around his neck as he stood straight, taking me with him, leaving my feet dangling off the ground.

  I pulled away with my eyes welling. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Worry creased his face at the sight of me. “Cory—”

  I stopped him with a kiss of my own, and with each breath, I tried to tell him everything. My confession. How I felt about him. What I wished for and what I wanted. That I was sorry.

  When I finally broke away, I hugged him tighter, pressing my cheek to his to hide my face. My lips were at his ear, and I said softly, “I’m fine. Take me running, Van.”

  He set my feet on the ground and looked down at me, smoothing my hair as he thought about arguing. I could feel his questions, but instead of asking, he kissed my temple and trailed his hand down my arm, threading his fingers through mine before towing me to the door.

  Van scooped up his camera on the way out, and we made our way out to the sound of our footfalls echoing in the hallway and stairwell. Neither of us spoke until we reached the roof when he smiled down at me.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked, watching him spin dials on his camera.

  He took a couple of test shots and glanced at the digital face. “I just want you to run. I’ll be behind you, but try not to think about me.”

  Not possible. “Try to keep up.” I jogged backwards until he smiled, then spun around and took off.

  Everything was wrong and right, fucked up and perfect, all at the same time. I climbed and ran, ignoring the headache creeping in, wanting to forget everything. I wanted to run until I was lost, even to myself. My focus turned to my muscles, the rhythm of my feet as I ran, the pauses when I jumped or vaulted.

  Before long, everything fell away until there was nothing outside of the city and my body. The two worked together to take me to that familiar place in my mind where I was whole.

  I found myself on top of Logan Tower, the same place that Van stood and took the photos that ended up as an installment in his gallery. As I stood on the ledge looking over Manhattan with burning lungs, I wanted to close my eyes and fly into the sun, explode and disappear. The wind spun around me, lifting my hair, pulling and pushing, urging me to the edge. I looked down at the street far below, where people went on with their lives in the cabs and on crowded walkways, in the buildings all around me as I wished for another life.

  Van touched my arm, and I turned to face him. His brow was heavy with emotion, his face drawn as he slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me off the ledge. I saw everything in his eyes that could have been, everything I would lose as he set me down, held me close. And for that moment, we existed in our own universe, caught in our own gravity.

  Every step that took us back to The Kyle Building twisted the knife, and when we reached the scratched up metal door, I watched over his shoulder like a rat as he punched in the code to the access door. I felt sick as I followed him down the stairs, dizzy and green. Maybe it was too soon to run after getting the shit beat out of me. Or maybe I was just fucking scum.

  I followed Van down the stairs, through his hallway, and the second his apartment door closed behind me, I knew we were at the end. When he turned, the look on his face told me he knew it too.

  He opened his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it.

  “We need to talk.” The words were sandpaper in my mouth.

  He took a step toward me. “Cory—”

  I took a step back. “No, Van. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you.” A tingling ran up my arms, up my neck and cheeks.

  Tell him as much of the truth as you can. He deserves as much as you can give him.

  There was one solid reason why he shouldn’t be with me that no amount of truth could change.

  I took a breath. “I’m not made for this.”

  “Don’t do this, Cory.” The urgency in his words tugged at me like a physical tie.

  I shook my head. “This is too much, too fast. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, either. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know enough.” He didn’t move, but the words commanded me. I was compelled to give in to him, and I pictured myself doing it. It would be so easy to walk across the room and into his arms. But he had done nothing to deserve the pain I would bring him. His idea of me was nothing near the truth.

  “You don’t know anything, Van. If you did, you’d never want me. That’s the honest truth.”

  “Then tell me.” He said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

  “I want to.” But I can’t. My voice broke, the futility of it like a bomb in my chest.

  In two steps, he
was in front of me. “Then do it,” he said softly. “Don’t run. Stay.” His fingers slipped into my hair, to the nape of my neck, and he pulled, bringing his lips to mine.

  I leaned into him, desperate. Our lips were hungry, our hands frantic on each other for the last time. I couldn’t pull away, and he knew he had me. His touch told me he was mine and I was his, and every kiss he laid on my lips was meant to convince me to stay, that he was worth it. But I already knew, and the decision was already made.

  So with each kiss I gave him, I said goodbye.

  He felt it, I knew, because he took more, pushed more, nipping at my swollen lips, his hands rough on my body, fighting to keep it for his own. He picked me up and carried me to his bedroom where he laid me in bed, our lips never parting. Regret for the selfishness of wanting him twisted around the comfort of his touch as he dragged his fingers down my chest and to the hem of my shirt as mine did the same. His hands were rough as he pulled it up, and I arched so he could tug it off. He reached behind him, grabbing a handful of his shirt to yank it off and toss it.

  His brow was low, casting shadows across his face as he sat back and undressed me, pulled off my boots, then pants, then panties in a hot flurry until I was naked before him. His hand trailed down my stomach and to my pussy, his thumb finding my clit to rub it slow. He slid it down my slit, wetting my lips on his way back up to rub the bundle of nerves again as he dropped the hem of his sweatpants. His cock sprang free, and his fist closed around his shaft as he dragged it up and down to the rhythm of his thumb against my clit.

  He leaned forward after a moment, laying his shaft against my pussy, and I angled my hips, cradling him as he flexed his hips against me, using his free hand to pull out his wallet. He ripped the condom open with his teeth and backed his hips away, reaching between his legs as he grabbed my wrists with his other hand. He looked down at me, looked into my eyes. I could see myself reflected in his, the person I wanted to be. But that wasn’t who I was.