Malum part 2

Nate

Hearing her open up to Brantley like that didn’t bother me as such.

The tears did a little.

But hearing her say that she has had to compete for me, messed with me on a new level. I’ve been fucked a lot, and no pussy has fucked me as hard as Tillie’s words did in that sentence. I feel hollow, and fucking shit.

I slide down the wall in the kitchen, hearing her footsteps drag upstairs. I lose myself in a daze as Brantley’s boots come into view when he enters. He stops, goes straight for the cupboard, and then drops down on the floor directly opposite me.

Flicking off the top of the vodka, he takes a swig.

“I feel like we’ve done this more times than I’ve had my dick wet lately,” he murmurs, handing me the bottle.

I reach for it, desperate for something. Anything to numb the ache that’s roaring in my chest. The ache that I put there myself, as a product of the epic fuck up that is me.

“More than I care to admit,” I answer, hissing when the poison hits my stomach.

“Two questions…” Brantley mutters, his eyes coming to mine. “One, are you going to fix this? And two, or are you going to let her go?”

I think over his words. I’ve done some heavy damage to her in the time that we’ve been together, without really being together. She deserves every fucking thing that she wants, and I don’t know if it’s me and this world that she really wants. Why would she want to be held by the same hands that broke her?

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“Think of her. Not you,” Brantley says before standing.

“Alright, Dr. Phil.” I follow suit, handing him back the bottle. “Let’s get this fucking ceremony over with so she can at least be back on world soil.”

I start heading back through the kitchen and to the dining room, just as Brantley’s hand comes out and stops me. “Don’t tease her with Valentina. You’re both past that and she’s dealt with enough of that bullshit. Also, if you care for your little toy’s safety, I wouldn’t push Tillie too far. Your toy might end up… broken.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I know.” Then I shove through and head into the dining room where Bishop is sitting, eyes distracted and lost in the distance.

“We need to talk…”

“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling the seat out before I take it. “Now what.”

“It’s true,” Bishop whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Brantley enters just as Bishop says the words.

“What’s true?” Brantley asks, his eyes going between the two of us.

I bury my face into my hands, ru

Brantley glares at both of us. “Fucking secrets. Really?”

“No.” I shake my head, because out of everything, I can’t handle Brantley being salty as fuck with me. “It was kept between the two of us until we could find proof, which Bishop has.”

Brantley takes a seat, his jaw clenching.

Bishop’s eyes go to Brantley. “We know about Saint.”