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Back Losers: Part I Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Content Note
  3. A Note From The Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. Acknowledgements
  57. Also By Harley Laroux
  58. About The Author

“Jess isn’t going to mean anything to him,” Jason said, his tone perfectly even. Reasonable. Calm. At least one of us was. “In his eyes, she’s just some girl. He’s not going to bother with her.”

“We don’t know that,” I said, staring at her house. Her unlocked front door, her fucked-up security system…

As if he read my mind, Jason said quickly, “I’m going to go get her alarm fixed. You should head back to the house. Take the day off, relax…” I gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t relax. But try. Get into Vincent’s stash. He’ll have something to calm you down.”

I nodded, clasping his arm for a moment in thanks. I hadn’t meant to get so upset, but it was hard to think clearly where my father was concerned. I hadn’t heard a thing from him or seen any sign of him since Mom’s funeral, and I would have preferred to keep it that way.

Hopefully, this was just a temporary thing. There was nothing left for him in Wickeston, and if he had any sense left in that rotten head, he’d move on again sooner rather than later.

His truck was gone when I drove past again, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

37

37

Jessica

I took an extra long shower that morning, savoring every drop of hot water on my aching body. I’d likely be walking stiffly for days, but the discomfort was weirdly satisfying.

It usually felt strange to have someone sleep by my side. I hadn’t had anything that qualified as a “steady” relationship since sophomore year of college — and even that only lasted three months. I preferred to keep it short and sweet. The longer I was with someone, the more annoying they became.

But this was different. Sleeping next to Manson hadn’t felt strange. It felt like coming home at the end of a long day and sinking into your favorite pillow, like a warm blanket on a cold night. I slept like a rock, and when I woke up and saw his hair all messy, his face soft with sleep…God, how could I resist him?

It made no sense that a man who was so unlike me made me feel so heard. So seen. The messy, uncertain side of me that he brought out felt more like the real me than anything else. It was the side of me that craved scary, unusual, vulnerable things. Things that felt too close for comfort, too real, too raw.

This little game of ours was far harder to play when my heart was determined not to follow my own rules.