Psycho Ex Boyfriend (Standalone New Adult Romance) (The Alpha Brotherhood Book 2) (17 page)

Sabrina

Age 20

Adam’s body is on top of mine, lingering inside me as I feel the tension in his shoulders release. Our lips press together and he leans into my hand as I run my fingers across his forehead, sweeping his golden hair out of his eyes.

“What are we doing?” I ask, my heart overriding my brain in a moment of weakness. His lips curl into that smug grin, but I’m not falling for it. “Don’t you dare tell me that we’re just fucking.”

His brow pinches together and he lets out a sigh, rolling off me and covering his face with his hands. “What lie would you prefer I tell you, then?” he replies defensively.

I pull the soft sheet up and cover my breasts, sitting against the headboard. My bottom lip starts to tremble, so I bite it. But Adam saw that, scooting closer to me even as my walls go up and my demeanor becomes icy.

“So is this what you do? Spy on ex-girlfriends and bring them back into your world for a quick ride until you remember why you didn’t want them anymore in the first place?”

His eyebrows raise, perplexed. “Shit, Sabrina,” he laughs. “I didn’t realize you’d gained the ability to read minds.”

“In other words, yes.”

“First of all, I don’t have any ex-girlfriends.” Adam skims his fingers across my knee. “Aside from you.”

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that.”

“Must we do this now?” he groans. I nod. “Fine. I don’t date. I don’t do relationships. I fuck who I want, when I want. It ends at that.”

My chest tightens as the air in my lungs disappears like a vacuum. “That would have been nice to know,” I whisper back.

Guilt creeps across his face, warping his handsome features. “I’m sure it would have. I didn’t think ahead.”

“Why the hell did you even come see me, Adam?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away from you anymore.” There’s something vulnerable in his voice that softens the blow of what he’s telling me. “I would have if I could,” he continues, unable to meet my gaze. “I tried. God, I fucking tried to stay away. But you are… you.”

“Then why can’t we try again?”

“Because... Bree, think about it. We’re 21 years old and 2,000 miles apart.”

“So?”

“Did you notice how much I work? Have you thought about how busy you’ll be once you get into law school? And after that, once you land a job in some high powered law firm where you’ll spend 90 hours a week, at least?”

“We can—”

“No, we can’t,” he says.

“So you don’t even want to try because of logistics and bad timing.”

“No. I have no interest in living with a perpetual state of blue balls for the next decade.”

I pull my hand away from his, wondering how it even got there. “Nice, Adam.”

“Alright, I’ll do what most guys do. I’ll just pretend. Call you up on the phone twice a week and tell you that I’m being true, when you know damn well I’m not. But the doubt will be enough to keep you in line and make sure your college era weekends are wasted on being faithful to a fucking liar.”

“Is that honestly the way you think it is?”

“Know thyself, Sabrina,” he scoffs.

We’re silent for a while. I watch his face, studying every twitch and line, knowing that he’s not telling me something. “Adam, I—”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“But—”

“I can’t,” he breathes, flinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“You can’t what?”

He looks over his shoulder at me. “I can’t be with you.”

“Sounds like you
won’t
to me,” I correct him.

“We weren’t supposed to connect like this,” he says, more to himself than to me. “You were supposed to be someone different now. We just should have hooked up, figured out that we’d changed, and said our goodbyes. Get it out of my system, not make it worse.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I lay a hand on his back but he shrugs me off. “Get what out of your system?”

“
You
,” he snaps. “Just… you. The perfect words that come out of your beautiful lips. Your laugh. Your skin, your hair. The way you make me feel like
nothing
has changed when
everything
has.” He chokes out the confession, pulling on his clothes and moving toward the bedroom door.

“Adam…” I chase after him naked, the cool ocean breeze caressing my body contrasting with the trail of heat radiating behind his.

“I am not supposed to be in love with you anymore. I’m not.” He keeps running away from me, into the light of the full moon gleaming through the open windows.

“Adam!” I call out, scampering down the staircase.

He turns around unexpectedly and I crash into him, faltering and expecting to tumble. But he catches me with a kiss, such a kiss, perhaps the most desperate of all that we’ve shared. One hand clutches the back of my head, the other cupping my jaw, his mouth consuming mine until all I can do is hang on to his thick wrists for balance.

He still loves me and I still love him. There’s no reason that we can’t make this work.

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, kissing me again before I can ask what he means. “I honestly didn’t think that in a million years… I’m a pragmatist, you know? Statistically…” He returns to my lips with a growl and the world fades away for a moment in his grasp. “I should have realized, I should have known that…”

I stop his advance with a finger to his lips. “You should have known that what?”

“That we would still be…” he hesitates, wincing. “That we will probably
always
be… us.”

My stomach flutters uncontrollably and I’m the one that leans in for the kiss this time. His arms engulf me, his tongue so deep in my mouth that I can only breathe the air he exhales. “Then let’s just be us again,” I murmur into his shoulder as his lips travel down my neck.

“I can’t,” he says, his eyes filled with regret.

“Yes, you—”

He grabs my wrists, pulling my hands off him and pinning them between us. “You don’t understand. It’s too late.”

“How could it possibly be—”

“I don’t date because I can’t. I haven’t tried to erase your memory with another woman because I’m contractually obligated not to do so. Even more so now than when I was in college.”

“What do you mean?”

“I signed on for this,” he says, again, more like he’s telling himself than saying it to me. “I knew there were strings attached, but I didn’t fucking care because this is what I do. This is who I am.”

A stoic expression creeps across his face and his spine lengthens. Then it hits me. It’s in his name. Goodson. Adam is a good son. They all are. And they play by their Father’s demented rules because it’s a road paved in gold and the only life they’ve ever known that’s also one worth living. So when he says that he can’t be with me, he actually can’t.

But Adam would never sign on for that forever. “How long?” I ask. His head cocks to the side. “You signed a contract, right?”

“I willingly agreed to certain specific stipulations about romantic entanglements to avoid distractions,” he clarifies.

“And if you break them, you lose everything you’ve worked for and it all belongs to your brothers, doesn’t it?” I surmise. He nods. “I would never ask you to do that.”

“Then don’t.” He drops my hands, leaving them cold. “Go to Paris,” he says, starting down the stairs.

“What did you just say?” I gasp. I never told him that I was thinking about studying abroad, let alone where. I stop in my tracks, unable to follow him. There’s no fucking way he could know that unless he’s… Made a few calls, my ass. This is pure stalker shit.

“Just live your life. Do me a favor and forget about me, Sabrina,” he calls up as I stand there speechless. “Since I can’t manage to forget about you.”

So that’s what I do. He gets into an expensive car and drives to whatever Goodson headquarters rules his life. I pack my things,
my
things, not the shit he’s bought me, and change my flight to the next one that leaves in the middle of the night instead of tomorrow afternoon. 

And a few months later, I drop out of the summer classes I planned to take, including the last one that I need to graduate in three years. Instead, I brush up on my French and go on a cultural adventure like college age girls are supposed to do. My father is furious that I’m throwing my future away, my mother elated that I’ll come home well rounded.

But I can’t forget about Adam. He’s always in the back of my mind. Every date pales in comparison, every kiss feels like there’s something missing, and as for sex… that’s rarely worth having, especially once I leave France.

My parents are there to greet me at the airport when I come home at the end of the semester, my baby sister flinging herself into my arms. I missed her so badly and I can’t believe how much she’s grown. We’re in preteen territory now and Mom and Dad are clearly on the verge of a divorce. I’d rather have her learn the facts of life from me anyway.

There’s a blond man in a well-tailored black suit at the airport, perhaps watching our reunion from a distance. I shrug it off as a figment of my imagination, but the hair on the back of my neck stands on edge as I refuse to look behind me to confirm my suspicions.

I’m too old for dorm life now and I can’t take living with my family, so I immediately get my own apartment for my final semester at Northwestern. A week after I’ve moved in, there’s a nonstop stream of deliveries at my door. Clothes, many of which I chose during that ill-fated trip to California, some that reflect my recent browsing history. Everything a kitchen needs even though I don’t really know how to use any of it. Art that I love, some that I discovered in Paris. Many are originals, not prints.

Against my better judgement, I accept all of it because I’d hate for my refusal to cancel the final package. Adam.

He shows up at my door, whisks me off to New York to ring in the New Year. We have the same great sex, the same big fight, and then he’s out of my life again. He pops in now and again, always conveniently when I’m in a dating slump. And I’m too damn stupid and hopeful to kick his ass to the curb.

Adam

Age 21

I hear her cough on the other side of the door and I debate whether or not I should have come here. But I knock anyway. My cheeks pinch from my smile when I see her face. Sabrina, however, isn’t very happy to see me.

“I don’t have time to fuck around, Adam,” she tells me, stepping to the side to invite me in.

“I know.”

Books and papers are scattered everywhere, interspersed with piles of Kleenex and cough drop wrappers. Bree hacks, doubling over and spitting into a tissue. I gently rub her back as she winces. Her hair is about to fall out of the loose tie, so I gather it into my hand as she coughs again. Poor thing.

“Why are you even here?” she asks hoarsely. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have the flu right in time for the LSAT and—”

“I’m here because I know you’re freaking out,” I say.

She sniffles, her little face contorting adorably. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she squeals, completely overwhelmed. “I only have three days and it’s so hard to concentrate and all I want to do is sleep and my head is—”

“It will be okay,” I assure her. “I’ll help you study.”

“You always say that, but then we end up…”

“This isn’t a high school math exam that you could pass in your sleep, Bree. This is the Law School Admission Test. It’s your future.” Yeah, she can take it two more times before she actually has to apply to law school, but it’s her future nonetheless.

I hold my arms out and she falls into my chest, listing off a few hundred different things that she has to remember but doesn’t think she can, babbling so quickly I barely understand her. I press my lips to her scalding hot forehead as she starts to cry. “When was the last time you had a nap?”

“I don’t have any time for a nap!”

She sits down on a barstool that she’s probably already fallen off ten times and cracks open a book. I glance further into the kitchen and see coffee splattered all over the counter, along with a dozen spoons and cups in random locations. On the fridge, there’s a huge handmade calendar with dates crossed out in big exes next to a list of everything she planned to study that night. Classic neurotic Sabrina.

“You can’t afford to study when you’re completely delirious, either,” I tell her. “You won’t retain any of it.”

“I know! What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to lay down and remember that you’ve been staying up late every night for the last month preparing for this test,” I tell her, gently turning her chin to face me. “When was the last time that you took something for your fever?”

“I don’t know… I have a schedule written down for what to take when.”

“Of course you do,” I chuckle. She goes back to studying, leaning on her arm. I find a piece of paper with a red thermometer drawn on it, but she hasn’t recorded anything since yesterday afternoon. “Where is the actual thermometer?”

“I’m not going to the hospital, no fucking way.”

“Christ, Bree.” That means her temperature was high enough to warrant doing so. I find the thermometer and come at her.

“No!”

“
Sabrina
,” I scold her. “Stop being a child.” She pouts at me and I struggle not to crack up. “Now open your mouth.” At that, we both can’t help but laugh. I’ve ordered her to open her mouth a few times before, but never so seriously and for a nonsexual reason. I tuck a haphazard curl behind her ear and stroke her hair as we wait for the beep. “102.6”

She pops some Tylenol into her mouth and swallows it without water like a pro. “See, I can keep studying.”

“Yeah, right.” I move in for the kill, gathering her into my arms as she protests. Her weak little fist beats against my shoulder blade and she kicks her legs. I toss her in bed anyway. “Bree, I will tie you down if I have to.”

“But I have to pee!”

She leaps out of bed and I follow to make sure she actually goes into the bathroom because I
will
spank her ass if she picks up another book. But she comes back to the bedroom. Her face is dripping with water and her frizzy curls sticking out in all kinds of crazy directions. Fuzzy bunny slippers? Really? For fuck’s sake, could she be any cuter?

My heart does that annoying skittering thing it always does when she reminds me why I keep torturing myself and coming to visit her. She crawls in bed, bemoaning her destroyed future and lamenting her earlier decision to forego a flu shot. I sit up in bed next to her, textbook in hand, reading a passage about identifying flaws in arguments that she has highlighted in yellow, circled in red,
and
marked with a purple sticky note. Sabrina yawns, cuddling next to me, her sleepy arms wrapping around my thigh.

The academic superstar almost makes it until the end of the second paragraph before she’s out cold. I tuck the covers around her and flip off the lights.

The first thing I need to do is go jerk off because… God damn. Who’d have thought that hysterics and influenza could be so hot?

Then I start cleaning her house as quietly as possible. It’s impossible to focus when your surroundings are this chaotic. I make sure her notes and textbooks are left open the way she had them, but stack them as neatly as possible on her desk in the living room. Her kitchen is a disaster and I’m not exactly domestic, but it’s clean enough once I’m through. I also hide these damn bags of coffee beans and the grinder, making mental notes of her favorite varieties along the way.

I let her sleep for three hours before getting in bed next to her and gently running my hand down her arm. She opens her eyes, grins weakly, and snuggles closer to me. God, I love sleeping with her in my arms. It’s the best feeling in the world, nothing compares.

Of course she flips her shit when she realizes that she took a much needed seven hour nap. The world is most certainly ending. She shall never recover. I kiss her, give her some more Tylenol, and show her the dozen fresh practice LSAT exams that I’ve brought with me.

We study all night. I nod off around 4:00 am, watching her hunched over her notebook, practicing the writing samples. We’re both startled in the morning by a knock on the door. Sabrina doesn’t even get a chance to answer before it opens.

“Rise and shine, Sabrina,” a woman’s voice calls out through the calm morning silence.

“We brought you some cookies!” a little girl says.

Shit. That sounds like family. Shit, shit, shit. I rub my eyes, grab a book, and make like the cramming college student that I should probably pretend to be.

“Who is that?” Sabrina’s mother whispers harshly as they come into view.

“A friend.”

“A friend? A
male
friend? Did he stay the night?”

“Yes, mother. It’s called pulling an all-nighter.”

“You need to be focusing on your studies, young lady.”

Christ, she’s 22 years old. Lay off.
Shit, this book is upside down. I yawn, rising to my feet and stretching my arms over my head. “Hello,” I say, holding out my hand for her mother to reluctantly shake. “My name is Adam.”

“Geneviève. Lovely to meet you,” she replies, the straight line of her lips unmoving.

“And you must be Sun.” I bend down to finally meet the perfect baby sister I’ve heard so much about.

“How did you know my name?” she shy little girl replies.

“Your sister talks about you all the time.”

“She does?”

“Yep.” The little sister looks up at the elder and grins.

“Funny, because she’s never mentioned you,” Geneviève remarks.

Bitch, I’ve heard quite a lot about you, too.
“That’s because I’m rather forgettable.”

Sabrina coughs, perhaps concealing a laugh, but it turns into another painful hacking fit. I resist the urge to comfort her, waiting for her mother to step up. She doesn’t. She just launches into a speech about how Sabrina needs to push through the pain and stay focused on the test. Unable to resist anymore, I pop a homemade cookie into my mouth and move into the kitchen. I tap Bree on the shoulder to offer her a glass of water and another round of fever medication.

“I’m gonna run home and grab a shower. Maybe go for a run,” I tell her.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Sabrina asks, those huge doe eyes begging me to return.

My heart flips over. “Yeah, if you want. You should think about taking a nap, though.”

“She doesn’t have time for that,” her mother quips.

“We were up until 4 am,” I inform her. “At least.”

Her mother rolls her eyes. Bree’s face falls. Her body is practically shrinking. I don’t care for this at all. I’m glad I cleaned up, I can only imagine what the Queen Mother would have to say about the mess. Sun wraps her arm around her sister’s waist and feels her forehead with the back of her hand, doing what I wish I could.

“You’re really hot,” Sun exclaims.

“She’s fine,” Geneviève assumes incorrectly. 

“I’ll be back with lunch,” I say firmly, unable to keep myself from glaring at her mother. “I’ll bring you a superfood smoothie. Blueberry?”

Sabrina nods, a hint of a smile on her beautiful lips. I walk towards the door, my own lips tingling and fingers aching as I get farther away from my girl, leaving her in the clutches of her mother. I look back before exiting, watching Sabrina hug her sister as her mother lectures them both. Like that’s going to fucking help.

The last thing I hear is the matriarch setting an excellent example and offering her bewildered, ill daughter some Adderall. Mother of the fucking year. If Sabrina hadn’t outright refused and immediately started explaining to Sun why she should never, ever do that, I would have turned around and kicked Mommy Dearest the fuck out. Even if it would get me arrested.

Sabrina’s fever is down when I get back and this time our reunion starts with a more typical kiss. But even when she lists all the positive impacts on cognitive function and reminds me of that time we blew off studying for an important calculus exam and both scored 100%, I don’t give in to Sabrina’s very convincing arguments to have sex. At first. Even once I do, I make sure it’s gentle, nice guy, sick girl sex. At first.

For the next two days, my life is Sabrina’s and what a neurotic life it is. If I see one more fucking sample question that tests your logical reasoning by having you choose the best of five correct answers…

The exam itself takes 5 hours and I’m almost as nervous as she is. Her self-doubt and anxieties are contagious. I spend the time walking around the city I miss so much, eating the food I miss even more.

Sabrina is feverish when she emerges with other similarly exhausted prospective law students. I talked my way into the hall so I could meet her, and so that I’m around if her fucking mother shows up. She doesn’t.

I stay another two days because Bree crashes hard and her body insists on being as sick as it actually is. I attempt to temporarily distract her from the long wait she’ll endure before her scores are finally released. Not that it matters! She totally failed! Why does she even bother trying? She’ll never be good enough! Yeah, she might do better next time, but this score will follow her forever and she’ll never get into a good school!

I’d like to say it’s exhausting, and in a way it is. But Sabrina is in my life again. I’ll gladly listen to the unwarranted self-criticism and catastrophic possibilities. I just want to be around her. It was completely worth getting the flu myself.

She gets a 177. Three points away from a perfect score and well above the average at all the top universities. And I helped her. I stepped up. I saw her through when there was no one else. She leaned on me, at times literally, and I was there to hold her up.

Sabrina confides in me just like I’m her boyfriend. She certainly fucks me like I am. She curls up next to me and babbles until she falls asleep at night, like we belong to each other. But we don’t.

It just makes it that much harder when we drift apart, which we soon do. Calls get further apart. She starts dating. I start fucking around and working like the maniac that I am. Then, all of the sudden, she’s off the market and wouldn’t answer her door even if I flew out there, dropped to my knees, and promised her forever.

It was inevitable.