Home > Ride Steady (Chaos #3)(22)

Ride Steady (Chaos #3)(22)
Author: Kristen Ashley

And maybe it was time to let back in other good things in his life.

But he was giving Carissa Teodoro the only thing he could give her.

And that was the only thing she’d get from Joker.

He moved into the room, shrugging off his cut. He was tossing it to the end of the bed when he saw someone had put Carissa’s pie on the nightstand. Shoved the change, army knives, condom wrappers, and empty beer bottles out of the way and laid it there, fully intact, plastic wrap still on.

Like he couldn’t stop himself, he walked right to it, tore back the wrap and dug his fingers in at the side. A huge piece covering his curved fingers broke off in his hand.

He lifted it and shoved as much as he could get in his mouth.

And went still.

Every punch he’d landed. Every kick. Every time a man went down at his feet. Every time he’d sunk his cock into tight wet. The moment Kane Allen told him he was a Chaos recruit. The day they handed him his patch.

None of it tasted as good on his tongue as that pie.

Fuck.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and ate the rest from his hand, licking his fingers.

Then he dug in and ate more.

When he was full and a third of the pie was gone, he smoothed the wrap back over it, went to the bathroom, took a shower and washed sweat and blood from his skin, the residue of used condom and empty pussy from his cock.

When he was done, he wandered back to the room, turned out the light, fell into bed, and slept with his stomach full of Carissa Teodoro’s chocolate pecan goodness.

And when he woke up, he had the rest for breakfast.

Chapter Five

I Had This

Carissa

I SAT AT my kitchen bar looking with tired, puffy eyes at the items I’d laid on it.

My eyes were puffy because Tyra and Lanie had come over with dinner last night to join Elvira and me and they’d stayed awhile. They’d been sweet and supportive in a genuine way that I regrettably had little experience with, which was also why I didn’t quite trust it.

Still, I’d given it to them. Everything.

Althea dying.

Aaron asking me out in high school, and since he was rich, cute, and a good football player, my acceptance, catapulting me into the popular kids, a place where I’d never really felt comfortable, but I’d stayed.

Mom dying.

The gossip that said Aaron had had sex with my supposed best friend Marley when we were juniors, doing this because I wouldn’t put out. But he’d stuck with me for some reason, even though I didn’t put out until the day before he took off to Massachusetts to go to college.

I also shared I ignored that gossip.

And I told them that, when he was still in the dorms his freshman year and I’d gone to visit, I’d overheard his friends snickering about a girl named Katie and how they had a plan to keep her away from Aaron while I visited.

I shared that I ignored that as well.

I also told them about Aaron saying he couldn’t live without me our first summer back, so against my father’s wishes, I quit UC, moved to Cambridge, got a job at The Gap and an apartment with four other girls. I tried to get into a school out there, but between struggling to pay rent and Aaron, I didn’t succeed.

I further told them about the time when Aaron was in graduate school and he broke up with me for three months and dated a fellow student.

I then shared that he’d come back on bended knee, ring and everything, and we’d gotten married in a huge wedding that Aaron’s mother decreed we must have that my father paid for but clearly didn’t enjoy. And this was not because he was giving away his little girl but because he wasn’t a big fan of who he was giving her to. Then I’d gone back to my job, now manager of The Gap, while Aaron finished law school.

And I’d shared we’d moved home after he graduated, home being a house that was waiting for us to move in to, seeing as his parents had given it to us for our wedding.

I’d taken a part-time job at an exclusive boutique that paid little but, regardless, they expected me to wear clothes that cost a fortune (theirs, and they only gave a ten percent discount). This employment was something Aaron’s mother decreed was “acceptable” before we started our family, upon which I would quit and take care of said family (the first part I didn’t agree with, the second part I did).

Aaron took his position as a junior associate in his father’s old firm, which was his grandfather’s old firm, which meant, even though both of them left it to become judges, their name was still on the letterhead. And even though Aaron was a junior associate, they were fast-tracking him to partner. Giving him meaty cases. Putting him as second chair to the big names in the firm so he could learn from the best.

All of this meaning he worked brutal one-hundred-and-twenty-hour weeks, which I knew now was not true because a number of those hours he was wooing and winning Tory.

And last, I’d shared that having Travis was Aaron’s idea. I might not have used it in a while, but I did have a brain, which meant I had an inkling things with my husband were not right. I would never have brought a child into that.

But he was all about us, our future, our family, making strong stronger (his words), one of those times I did not get—and got it less now that it was over—when he was so devoted to me it didn’t seem real.

Maybe because it wasn’t.

But it was beautiful.

So I again turned a blind eye and gave in, quitting my job when I started showing, and shortly after ending up in hell.

I told them all that and more.

So I’d cried a lot. Lanie had cried with me. Tyra teared up a few times.

Elvira just looked angry.

If she wasn’t so funny and friendly and nice, she would scare me. Luckily, she was all those things (but also scary).

They left and now my eyes were tired because after they did, even though it felt good to get it out, share it with people who seemed to care, I didn’t sleep.

I didn’t because I didn’t want to do bad things God would frown on (seriously) to keep Travis.

Not unless it was a last resort.

And it wasn’t.

Not yet.

That was why I’d put out the stuff on my bar.

The platinum necklace with the quarter-carat diamond pendant Dad had given me. The pearl and diamond earrings my grandmother gave me to wear to my wedding. The emerald and diamond tennis bracelet Aaron’s parents gave me when we’d become engaged. The gold bangles Aaron bought me for Valentine’s Day every year (which also was our wedding anniversary—cliché, now embarrassing, what with me being a hopeless romantic with emphasis on hopeless).

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