Hateful Love (King of Aces #1)

by T. Ashleigh

furrow my brows when I don’t see him though, my chest doing a funny little flip when I realize that he’s gone. Damn, why am I so disappointed?

I try to mask my feelings, but Landon sees it.

I want Silas. Silas might not care about me but at least I can be more myself when I’m around him.

“That was excellent, son,” he says as he pulls back. “You definitely caught the eye of a couple of scouts. Did you see them?”

“Good call. Luckily they got here after that fight broke out.”

“Those stupid kids...” I quirk a brow at this. “Fight?” “Yeah. Some kind of gang tussle. I don’t know why they brought it here, of all places.”

“What happened? Who was in it?”

“How am I supposed to know? All I saw was the Richards boy beating the hell out of someone.”

“Were either of th...

“Don’t think so. I made them leave. I didn’t want them to cause a bigger scene. I swear, they should just lock him up already and get it over with.”

“Don’t say that,” I snap, and I realize my mistake after the words leave my mouth.

“And this matters to you...

“He’s not a bad person,” I tell him, defensive and not bothering to hide it.

I want Silas. “There’s a bonfire,” I blurt out. “I was going to go there.”

Hey. Meet at our spot?

Already ahead of you.

That’s not me. I’m Silas fucking Richards. No one is turning me into some whipped boyfriend. I’ll be damned before that ever happens.

Blaine is finally busting his way into the camper, eyes wide as they drag over me a little frantically. I cock a brow, not sure what has him so panicked.

He winces in sympathy when he sees the cut on my brow and the split in my lip. “You need to clean this up.”

“I’ve had worse.” “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“In the bathroom,” I say, my breath just a little choppy with the way he’s looking at me. “Under the sink.”

“Is everythin’ okay?” I find myself asking, even though I shouldn’t care.

“What’s the matter? The blood freakin’ you out?” I tease, wanting to make the moment less tense.

“It’d be weird for a future doctor to be scared of blood, wouldn’t it?”

“You wanna be a doctor?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t know this but I’m going to Yale in the fall.

“Sorry.” “Don’t be, you sound like you’ve been hangin’ on to that for a while. Let it out.” I won’t lie, I kind of feel bad for him now. It seems to be a lot to deal with.

“If I unbottled all my emotional baggage, we’d be here all night.”

“I’ve got time.”

“I’m just over my dad’s laundry list of expectations. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had to stay in line. Even as a kid, there were things I wasn’t allowed to do just because of who my dad was. It was exhausting. It’s still exhausting. I’m always expected to be so perfect, to be everything everyone wants me to be.”

Fuck that. “You don’t have to do that with me,” I whisper, reaching for his wrist and rubbing my thumb against his pulse point. “No bullshit, Blaine.”

“I’m just so tired, Si. Tired of always having to do the right thing, tired of being the poster boy, and so fucking tired of football. I know I’m great at it, and I know my dad’s plan would probably work, but I don’t want it.” “I’ll bet,” I murmur, realizing just how much he carries on his shoulders. “That’s shit.”

“Ri...

“I used to always question the odds. Like, wonder what the chances were out of every sport I could have chosen, I’d pick that one? Destiny has a funny way of sho...

“Destiny can get fucked. I know all about that,” I say as he enters the room again. “Really?” His brow lifts and he cocks his head to the side. “It’s fucked you up too?” “I wouldn’t say fucked me up, but it has made me question why things are the way they are.” I take a deep breath as I stare down at my hands. “I was eight when my old man was locked up.” “Oh, shit. I’m sorry⁠—”

“Damn, that’s fucked,” Blaine says, looking at me with concern. “So, where does that leave you?” “That’s the million-dollar question, ain’t it?” I force a laugh. “I feel obligated to join. Like it’s a part of my destiny. I mean, I’ve been wearing my pop’s jacket for years like I’m already a member anyway…” I trail off, trying to collect my thoughts. “So, I guess that’s where it leaves me. Stuck to take care of my family, fill the role that’s been left for me. I’ll never be more than Silas Richards—the thug, the gang member—and there isn’t anything anyone can do about it.”

“You are more than that though, you know?”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to lie. We both know it's true.” “You’re—” He cuts himself off as he wets his lips, almost like he’s trying to figure out what to say next. He contemplates it for a moment before swallowing harshly and reaching for my hand. “You’re more than that to me.” Fuck, there he goes, saying all the right things. That’s where all these feelings are coming from. Sometimes the shit he says… it just makes sense. Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be making him feel better?

I lean in, placing a gentle kiss to his lips, something I’ve never done before. While he’s the one who tap-dances on the line of intimacy, I never do, so this is a really big deal. Maybe I’m not ready to let him go after all.

move my lips slowly, trying to convey the way I’m feeling with just my mouth alone, praying that somehow, some way, he’s getting me. That he realizes just how much those words mean to me. That

he understands, even though this was never supposed to be more than just fucking, somewhere along the line he’s gotten to me and ...

I can’t fight him. And when I finally accept that fact and let go, it truly feels like living.

don’t get it,” I mutter, staring at the screen. “What’s not to get?” he asks. “It’s a fuckin’ hot-as-hell bike.” I cock my head to the side. “What am I supposed to think about it though?” “You’re supposed to appreciate it.”

We’re hip to hip, Silas’

arm wrapped around me—trapped between the couch and my back—with his fingers hooked around my belt loop. My head rests on his shoulder, and every now and then my lips wander to nip at the freckles on his throat, but he’s been ignoring me.

He needs to pay attention to my dick. It’s all sad and lonely. It needs a hug. Preferably with his mouth. “Si,” I whine, rubbing one hand up and down his thigh, not caring how desperate I sound.

Maybe I should get you one for your birthday so you can shut up about it.”

“When was your birthday?” “The same as yours,” he says absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the screen. “Wait.” I freeze, sitting up straighter so I can look at him better. “You know when my birthday is?”

“You know when my birthday is. You like me, don’t you?” I taunt, poking his chest, causing him to slap my hand. “Admit it. You’ve had a crush on me forever, right?” I joke, knowing that’s not the case, but enjoying how easily I can rile him up.

“Shut up, Blaine,” he growls in warning, but it does nothing to stop me. “When did the crush start? Was it when I tripped you? Did you realize that you were the real asshole?”