Breakaway PA

  Breakaway PA

  by

  Jessiqua Wylder

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Jess Wylder

  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, incidents and locales are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any re-semblance to actual people alive or dead, events and places is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Dedication

  Again, to those who have read this story on Wattpad, and to those who have supported me and hung in there, I dedicate this story to you.

  Y’all really are the best!

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE-PIPPA

  EPILOGUE-XAVER

  CHAPTER ONE

  Negative Gain

  Xaver

  Ma grabs me in a bear hug. After she releases me, I shake my father’s hand. They’ve snagged a high-backed booth, right in the restaurant's center. We sit with Ma sandwiched between her men. Right away, she starts on the subject of gardening. I wait for a break in her chatter to tell them I have a live-in girlfriend.

  I bet a dollar they’ll spontaneously combust. Well... maybe not Pops. Ma will, for sure.

  I half-ass listen, doing my best to nod in the right places. A grin forms on my lips as I think about my woman.

  “Have fun,” she’d said, giving me a smack on the lips. “Go already, or you’ll be late.”

  Pippa had attempted to push me from the doorway while Alfonso stood back and chortled like a hyena rolling in dirt.

  Ignoring him, I’d pulled her close, grabbing a handful of the ass I wanted to break in later; uncharted territory that I’d yet to explore. “I’m going to text you when we leave,” I’d said, nibbling her earlobe as she’d trembled against me, “and I want you to be in bed, waiting for me when I get back.”

  “Maybe,” she’d replied with her saucy mouth.

  “Come on, Pippa. Will you be here?” I’d asked, still amazed she’d agreed to live with me.

  She’d rolled her eyes. “Yes, Xaver. Where else would I be?”

  She had a point. Her apartment lease expires at the end of December. We couldn’t legally break the lease since the water damage that ruined the apartment she shared with Jenna wasn’t structural.

  I had my lawyers check to make sure.

  We’ll have to coordinate with Jenna and Bobby to empty the place. As far as I’m concerned, all of Pippa’s shit can go into a dumpster. Especially that lumpy-as-fuck couch we sat on when we watched movies. The one with the hole in the middle.

  Pippa fretted about her roommate’s reaction. Reminding her that Jenna and Bobby were moving in together had stopped her worry. I also told her if they had any concerns, they should talk to me. She’d laughed and said she could hardly wait for me to meet Jenna.

  Her shining eyes had made me smile.

  And hot for her as usual.

  I’d pulled her in for a kiss. A kiss that was as long as it was sweet. One that made me sorry I couldn’t do more.

  That would happen later.

  There would be no disturbances like this morning when Jake had barged in without so much as a knock. That prick had already left for the evening. Said he had a date with Applespice. He wanted to finish what they’d started, before the police had hauled her off to jail.

  I’d given my friend a box of condoms, told him to double up, and wished him well.

  With an empty apartment, I should be home, giving it to my girlfriend in every room. Can’t do that. Thanks to Linda, I’m stuck here listening to the benefits of creating my own compost corner.

  Not sure why my parents needed my input for Ma’s 60th birthday party. Linda had booked the venue, the band, and the catering. I came anyway since I don’t see my parents as much as I should.

  Only thing is, if I’d known in advance where we would eat, I would have put my foot down hard, like I was entering the Autobahn.

  Damn Bene! Of all places! Only by divine intervention is Bobby, Jenna’s boyfriend, not working tonight. At least, I haven’t seen him sneaking around a corner or peeking through a potted plant.

  Jenna, Pippa’s roommate, must believe everything the tabloids have written about me. She didn’t react well to the fact we’re dating.

  Pippa’s politically correct words of “she’s just concerned” and “she doesn’t want me hurt” really meant “she fucking hates you” and “she wants you to swim in a contaminated lake.”

  I’d hidden my reaction, keeping my anger on the inside. I mean, why isn’t anyone worried about my feelings? Pippa could cause me just as much damage as I could cause her.

  Perhaps more.

  It’s not only the woman who suffers if a relationship tanks. Guys like me, who float peacefully at the entrance to the Tunnel of Love, are also afraid of their rafts sinking into troubled waters.

  “Oh, here she is now,” Pops says, breaking through my thoughts. He jumps up to hug a tall woman with dark hair. She has her back turned, allowing me ample opportunity to give her the once over.

  Slender, long legs, firm ass, narrow waist, toned arms and thick, chestnut hair curling down her back.

  Nice.

  Pops finally lets the woman go and my breath catches. Whoever she is, she’s gorgeous. She has the face of a Scandinavian model, with ice-blue eyes, and full, luscious lips.

  My dick does a lazy twitch, surprising the hell out of me. That hasn’t happened lately for anyone except Pippa.

  “Xaver, I’d like you to meet Wilma and Justin’s daughter, Helen.”

  The face that launched a thousand ships.

  “Nice to meet you, Helen,” I say, standing and extending my hand. A spark runs through us when her hand touches mine. She must have felt it too, as we let go quickly, laughing at the cliché.

  “You scoot in here, Helen,” Ma says from the center of the booth, waving a hand and smiling.

  Sitting down, I move towards Helen while Pops resumes his seat, smiling like a junkie in the euphoria of his fix. He’s happy to see his son in the clutches of his friend’s daughter.

  I shake my head in amazement. This dinner isn’t about Ma’s party. Oh no. This is an attempt at matchmaking. They want to see me settled and moving on with my life.

  My gaze moves to Helen. She smiles, prepared to play along. I shrug and grin.

  I’m willing to make the best of it, if she is.

  My parents are long gone, using the long drive home to New Jersey, even though they’ve a hired driver, as an excuse to leave early.

  That’s okay.

  Helen and I have been enjoying each other’s company too much to call it a night.

  In the time we’ve been talking, the restaura
nt has thinned out considerably. A group of businessmen, laughing raucously, are the only patrons left besides us.

  Waiters scurry around, doing their prep work for the next day. A lone, compact blonde sits at the bar, chatting up the staff as they go about their work.

  I don’t mind staying because I like Helen. She is an MBA Ivy League graduate, like me, with a successful surgical equipment company. We’ve picked each other’s brains about turnover, employee retention, and how we do it all. Insight from a woman’s perspective has opened my eyes. I make a mental note to see if The Sayle Group can start a few of her maternity and work share practices.

  I take her in as she regales me with yet another interesting tale.

  Helen is the perfect trifecta: beautiful, smart, and down for sex. All night she’s been saying my name as if I’m the only man in the world she’d like to have in her mouth.

  Trouble is, I’m not interested. My earlier dick twitch was a fluke. If I had any reservations about Pippa before, and in all honesty I didn’t, then I certainly have none now.

  Wrapping up her story, Helen looks at my chest and grimaces. “I’m sorry I made a mess of your shirt, Xaver.”

  She had insisted on feeding me a bite of her cheesecake. I had declined. I didn’t want another woman feeding me. Thinking of Pippa, I considered the gesture too intimate.

  Ignoring my wishes, Helen had scooped up a bite of dessert and shoved the blob at my mouth. My attempt at staying her hand had caused her fork to wobble. The gooey cherry topping had slid off, making a noticeable red stain on my white dress shirt.

  “No problem, Helen,” I respond, offering her a smile full of teeth.

  “Make sure to get it dry cleaned, Xaver.” She gives my bicep a squeeze. “And please let me know just how I should reimburse you.”

  I shift my arm and her hand falls away. Pippa wouldn’t like another woman touching me.

  And I don’t like it either.

  “Uh, I’ll do that.”

  I’m not obtuse to how Helen feels. She has given me constant okay-to-go signals and her false eyelashes could have easily battered down a castle door by now.

  Helen is hot, but the only fire in my loins is for...

  Pippa.

  I miss her touch. I long for her sultry looks. I want her to gaze at me with her big brown eyes as she calls out my name in ecstasy.

  I love the way Pippa gives me sass when she knows it fires me up. The way she puts lotion on her sepia skin, straight from the shower, making me wait when she knows I’m hungry for her. And fuck… how she is so strong, determined and giving, even after everything that has transpired in her life.

  Pippa hasn’t confessed a fraction of what she has endured. The detectives I’d hired uncovered her story while I was in Japan. They filled me in on the beatings she’d suffered before school and the subsequent threats to herself, her friends, and her teachers to keep quiet.

  All courtesy of her step-uncle, the sheriff, and her stepfather, the deputy.

  Thank God she won’t need to worry about them much longer. They’ll soon go down for their illegal activities.

  And I hope they rot.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Helen says, her hand on my arm once again.

  This has continued long enough.

  “I think it’s about time we ended the evening, don’t you?”

  Earlier, I’d told Pippa she was just as important as my parents. A partner should be that if not more. It’s time to go home and prove it to her, once again.

  My mind again turns to the woman who awaits me at home, in my bed, ready and willing to do anything I ask. My dick grows just thinking about sinking into Pippa’s warm flesh.

  “Good idea,” Helen replies, licking her lips and moving in for the kill with a hand on my thigh. “Shall I follow you home, or do you want to come to mine?”

  The sound of a small cough interrupts us. A voice says, “Hi! How are you, Mr. Sayle?”

  I turn away from my attacker to see the blonde from the bar sneering at me. My face morphs into the definition of guilty.

  And damn me if I don’t shudder when my mind puts together just who she is. Pippa had shown me a picture of her roommate the night I’d asked her to move in with me.

  Pippa said Jenna was brawn and beauty.

  All I see is the hater of all things Xaver Sayle.

  I am truly fucked.

  Jenna catches my look of recognition and crinkles her nose in disgust. “I won’t bother you, as I see you are occupied. I’ll let Pippa know I saw you this evening.” Jenna waggles her phone for a second before flouncing off.

  “What was that all—” Helen begins.

  I cut her off, jumping to my feet. I’m surprised my legs hold me, what with the languid numbness spreading throughout my body. I feel shaky and weak, like a newborn calf trying to stand.

  A calf for the slaughter.

  “Helen, I have to go.” I pull out more money than necessary from my wallet and fling it on the table.

  “Xaver, wait. What’s—”

  Her words trail off as I dodge waiters carrying salt and pepper shakers and busboys sweeping the floor.

  I’m out the door in a minute flat.

  I scan the street, looking for Alfonso.

  He pulls up just as all feeling comes back to my body.

  I can make this work. I’ll explain. She’ll understand.

  I scramble into the front seat, telling Alfonso to drive home in record time, all the while praying to reach Pippa before her roommate does.

  We’re about ten minutes away when my phone chimes, damning me to hell.

  Up pops picture after picture of Helen and I in chaste, yet intimate-looking scenes—a skewed reality of what happened.

  At the bottom of the email, Pippa’s words cut me to my core.

  “Goodbye, Xaver.”

  Fat Free Ice Cream

  Pippa

  The water in the bathtub has turned lukewarm. I stir from my semi-doze and tap the sides of my face to bring more clarity to my brain. The clock on the wall says the hour is late.

  Xaver must be having a great time with his parents.

  I rise to my feet and shave any minute hairs on my legs and underarms. While the tub drains, I pad to the shower and rinse off. I then wrap myself in a towel as thick as it is fluffy.

  I grab a bottle of lotion from the cupboard and hit the open container on my palm.

  My thoughts turn to Xaver and how much I miss him.

  What he’d said earlier, that I’m on a level with his parents, made my heart want to burst from my chest. He cares for me. Of that, I know. He expresses it in the way he holds me, listens to my ideas... in the way he takes me.

  I’m more than just fucking for him. I’m his girlfriend, and he wants me to stay.

  As I rub on more lotion, I imagine Xaver smoothing the silky contents on my skin.

  Not a good idea, Pippa.

  I’m wet enough as it is.

  I take out my comb and brush from the drawer. My hands twist and turn as I braid my hair into two long plaits. Finished, I giggle and glance away from my reflection. I can hardly bear to meet the eyes that no longer hold sadness but longing. Excitement fills my belly when I think about... yep, I can say it... my boyfriend.

  I still can’t believe I’m in a committed relationship.

  Me!

  My stepfather told me I was worthless and that I’d find no one who would care for me. As stupid as it was, I believed him.

  Xaver changed that.

  Through his patience and understanding, he’s allowed me to open my heart enough to confess my love.

  Anxiety blossoms in my chest at the thought.

  I know Xaver isn’t ready to say the words back. It’s not his style to follow suit or express himself in exhibitions of devotion.

  Despite that, I have to tell him. It’s the only way to show him I want to move forward.

  From my bathroom, I walk to the guest room and get into my nightclothes. Earlier, I
’d decided on a baby-blue camisole and boy shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Modeling in front of the mirror, twisting this way and that, like I’m somebody, I wait for my stepfather’s voice to filter through my head.

  It doesn’t come.

  And I have Xaver to thank for that as well.

  Like the huge tips I received for waitressing, his words and deeds have validated that I’m worthy.

  That I am somebody worth caring for.

  Smiling so hard it hurts, I head into the kitchen to make tea.

  Mrs. Lettner left this morning to visit her pregnant daughter, due any day now. When Ms. Lettner isn’t here, I cook, and he does the dishes.

  I like taking care of my... man.

  My man.

  Will I ever tire of saying it?

  I lift the copper kettle and place it under the tap, staring at the bubbles from the filtered water as they hit the bottom and pop on top. The blue flame of the gas burner entrances me. When I put the heavy pot on the fire, it curls around the sides of the metal before drawing back.

  Just as it did this afternoon when Xaver had made the act of getting him tea an extraordinary experience.

  This morning, after we’d helped Jake clean the kitchen, Xaver went to work out. I went to his office to read a book.

  An hour and a half later, my boyfriend had come in, looking for me. His hair, still wet from the shower, gleamed in a perfectly coiled mess. I loved how it didn’t outshine the face that lit up when he saw me.

  “Would you mind making us some tea? I’d like some Earl Grey.”

  At the time, I’d considered it an odd request. Xaver had never asked me to make him tea or coffee at home, stating that he preferred to drink water. Rising, I’d said I would, secretly loving how his eyes followed me.

  I’d set the steaming mugs down on the coffee table where he was sitting, placing them on the coasters I’d brought from the kitchen. Before I could straighten, Xaver had pulled me down, rolling me underneath him like a Tenpin under a bowling ball. He’d risen on his arms, caging me within them. I’d tried to act mad, as if that would help dampen my rising need.