Page 35 of Haunting Goats

“Fuck you, Cash. You’re a perverted old fuck. She’s better off dead.”

Jake throws himself over the side of the shower and flops out of the tub like a fish out of water. He uses the toilet to maneuver himself up off the flooded floor.

“Okay, fine,” Cash seethes, “she might be better off dead, but you won’t be. I ain’t taking the fall for this shit. I said I’d help you get rid of her—not go on a fucking witch hunt.”

Cash looks around the room and pockets anything he can find—a package of Nerds, a comb, a handful of napkins, and a couple of packets of coffee grounds. There doesn’t seem to be any purpose beyond pissing off his son.

Jake appears out of the bathroom and watches as Cash grabs the bags of amber liquid encapsulated in fancy glass off the countertop.

“What do you think you’re doing with my stuff?” Jake demands an answer.

“Listen, I do what I want, when I want, how I want,” Cash whips the door open.

“Have fun in prison, kid.” he bellows, the door slamming behind him.

And just like that, he’s gone.

CHAPTER 21

LYRIC

My stepbrother? I’m absolutely horrified. I can’t fathom having to look at Attie right now. The shame and embarrassment are all-consuming. I feel disgusting, like I need to scrub this filthy knowledge and all the stuff I did with that man off of me.

Nausea creeps in and I feel like I’m going to vomit.

Did Jake know? He must’ve, right?

I think about our relationship, and when it hits me I was pregnant with my stepbrother’s baby, I throw myself backward and lean my head to the side as I heave all over Attie’s work boots.

Clutching his shirt, I sit up and bunch the middle of his chest in my palm. I regain my breath by inhaling slowly and deeply, and when I peer over his forearm, the puke is gone. I wipe at my mouth, but nothing’s there either.

Meanwhile, Jake paces the room and trashes the place. He sweeps through the area, holding his arm out as he knocks what’s left of his belongings off the tables and countertops. “God-fucking-dammit!” he rages on for minutes before finally collapsing into the chair near the exit.

He slouches forward, holding his face in his hands. Breathing heavily into his palms and then dropping his hands onto the tops of his thighs, Jake stares into his lap, unmoving.

“Lyric,” it takes me a minute to register Attie’s voice.

I’m dissociating.

We lock eyes, and his look like they could swallow me whole. Oh God, do I want them to. I want to be consumed by Attie. I need him like I need peace. Attie will give me everything, I just need to relinquish my grasp on the control I think I have and let him.

I need to escape this room, and it’s imperative that I get out of my head.

“Are you ready to get out of here?”

I nod in agreement, and he doesn’t question me; he immediately heads for the door.

I tackle Atticus the moment we enter our room. He doesn’t deny me—he embraces me and crashes his mouth into mine.

“Save—” I breathe out, “me.”

Attie strips me of my clothes as if he’s rushing. This man has seen me naked before, but yet he’s portraying this like it’s his first time—like he’s famished and unwrapping his favorite meal.

It wasn’t like this with Jake or any other lover. I had too many first dates that ended with my head being pushed and pinned on my belly to a motel room bed. Despite being a good fuck, they never wanted to look at me or be seen with me outside of behind closed doors.

He moves both of my arms above my head and slams my back into the wall. Attie grips my hands in his and ravishes me. A tongue enters my ear and wiggles around my inner hole, before teething and sucking on my earlobe. A moan slips past my lips, and Attie growls in response.

This is what I want.