“What?” He frowns, and she rolls her eyes.
“You saw him, babe. He was a fucking wreck.”
Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
“You’re telling me this, why?” I prompt evenly, even though my stomach is turning with nausea.
“He’s hurting,” Wes says quietly, and I wrap my arms around my middle as I swallow through the lump in my throat. I also remind myself that his feelings are no longer my problem.
“I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but why is that my problem?”
“Why?” he repeats softly, and I grit my teeth as I watch disappointment flash in his eyes.
“Yes, why?” I whisper and drop my arms.
“I think you know the answer to that,” Wes says, and I pull my eyes from him to look at my sister.
“You told him?” I guess, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.
Closing my eyes, I run a shaky hand through my hair while I try to get my thoughts in order then open them when Wes speaks again.
“You love him?” he asks, cutting me off before I can say anything, and I take a step back, feeling the color drain from my face. “Yeah, you love him,” he whispers and his eyes go soft. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I know Evan. I know he’s a good man who was dealt a fucked-up hand in life. His dad’s a piece of shit, and when his mom isn’t drinking, she’s okay, but she’s normally drinking.” He lets those words hang then drops his voice even more. “He went to war and watched men he cared about die. My guess is, he’s thinking a sweet, beautiful woman like you deserves more than a guy like him,” he says, and that lump in my throat aches as the words Evan said last night replay in my head.
I’m not good enough for you.
I’m not good enough for you.
I’m not good enough for you.
I’m not good enough for you.
Running for the bathroom in the hall, I flip up the lid on the toilet and drop to my knees as I lose everything inside my stomach. Somewhere in the back of my head, I register my sister’s comforting presence with her arms wrapped around me, whispering into my ear, but my heart, which I thought had been broken, shatters into a billion tiny pieces.
I’m not good enough for you.
“All I wanted was him,” I whisper.
“I know, honey.”
I’m not good enough for you.
“Only him.”
“I know, sis.
“What am I supposed to do?” I whisper, taking a wet rag that’s dangled in front of my face and pressing it to my mouth.
“Honestly?” Wes asks from behind me, and I nod, not lifting my head to look at him. “Don’t let him push you away.”
“It’s too late,” I breathe, feeling my heart pound and bile crawl back up my throat.
“Is it?” he questions softly, and I squeeze my eyes closed, knowing it is. It’s way too late. There is no way I would ever put myself out there again, not like that, not with him. He didn’t hurt me, he obliterated me.
“Maybe you could be his friend,” July suggests, and I look at her.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“You’re both hurting, honey. I…” She pauses, pulling in a breath, and looking up at Wes who reaches down, running his fingers along her cheek. I love that my sister has what she has with Wes, but as much as I love it for her, I hate the jealousy I feel when I see them together. “I want you to be happy,” she continues as her eyes drop to meet mine. “I don’t think you’ll be able to move on to your own happy until you figure out how to move past the hurt you feel.”
Even knowing she’s right, I don’t know if I will ever be able to do that.
Chapter 4
June
“You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection in the rearview mirror. Moving my eyes to my lap, I mutter, “Why the hell did you let your sister Jedi mind trick you?”
Dropping my head to the steering wheel, I rest it there, resisting the urge to pound my head against it. July and Wes somehow talked me into meeting up with them at the compound. They said they were having a party and that I needed to get out of the house. I did need to get out of the house, but a party where Evan would be didn’t seem like something I needed to do. In fact, I’m pretty sure I need to do the opposite, but still, I’m here, parked outside with the engine off, trying to build up enough courage to actually get out of my car.
Running my hands down the front of my bright orange sundress, I deeply breathe, open the door, and put one beige, sandal-covered foot on the ground then the other, proud of myself for at least making it out of the car. Shutting the door behind me, I look across the parking lot and pull in another deep breath before heading for the door next to the large gate, which will allow me into the open court where the party is. As soon as I’m there and pull the door open, I’m bombarded with the sound of rock music playing in the background, people talking and laughing, and the smell of booze, cigarettes, and pot.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, scanning through the crowd of jean-and-leather-wearing men and barely dressed women for my sister or Wes.
“Pardon?” a deep voice asks from my side, and I jump and turn my head to search the dark. A man steps out of the shadows, causing me to back up. He’s not much taller than me, with blond hair that hits his broad shoulders. He’s pretty, in a masculine way, with a square jaw, full lips, and big blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes.
“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” I tell him, and he grins an eerie grin that doesn’t quite fit the way he looks.
“Do you do that a lot?” he asks, taking a step closer to me, and I instinctively take another step back, wanting to keep space between us.
“Um…” I look around again, praying I see someone familiar.
“What’s your name?” His eyes roam over me as he takes another step closer then reaches out and grabs a piece of my hair, wrapping it around his finger. Alarm bells are going off in my head, telling me to get away, but I feel like my feet have frozen to the concrete below them.
“I…” I pull my head back, taking my hair with it.
“I?” he prompts, tilting his head and taking a step closer.
“Jordan, back the fuck up.”
My head swings around, and my heart, that was beginning to race, topples over itself when my eyes collide with Evan’s. Closing the distance between us, he takes my hand as soon as he’s near.
“Aw, I was just gonna have a little fun with her,” Jordan says, and Evan tugs my hand, forcing me to collide into his side.
“Come near her and I’ll have some fun with you, the kind of fun that will leave you in the hospital,” Evan spits out, sounding serious and scary.
Jordan holds up his hands, scans me once more, sending a wink in my direction, and then turns around and walks back into the shadows, which is not only weird, but is also a little creepy.
“Are you okay?” Evan asks, and my gaze moves from where Jordan disappeared to his eyes.
“Yeah, he just startled me,” I tell him quietly, feeling his hand wrapped around mine, his fingers over the pulse point of my wrist. His touch sends tingles up my arm, causing my breath to come out funny as his eyes roam my face. His touch is so familiar yet so foreign. Even if it’s only a small part of me he’s touching, I feel it everywhere. Dropping my hand, he runs his fingers through his hair, and I immediately miss the way it felt being connected to him. I know it doesn’t make sense, but if it were possible for someone else to have your heart inside of their body, I know he would be carrying mine around.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he says after a moment, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from asking if it would matter had he known.
“Wes and July asked me to come. I can go if you don’t want me here,” I whisper, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them, he pins me in place with his stare. I see it then, through the yellow light shining around us coming from the fires in barrels and the low lightin
g off the building above us—
Pain.
A pain so deep that it tears at my soul, ripping it to shreds inside my chest. A pain so harsh, I can feel it like it’s my own.
“Evan,” I exhale, taking a step closer to him, placing my hand on his bicep.
“Don’t.”
“I…” I shake my head, blinking back tears.
“Don’t,” he repeats, taking a step back, and my hand falls from his arm to my side. “Your sister’s inside. Go find her. There are a lot of people here tonight, so stick to her or Wes,” he says sternly then turns and starts to stalk off.
I don’t know what comes over me, but the words are out before I can even think about keeping them in, or filtering them. “I lied.” I’m not sure if my voice is loud enough to be heard, because my heartbeat is thumping wildly in my ears. He stops walking away, and I see his shoulders rise and fall. “It might not matter now…” I pause then pull in a breath through my nose. “I don’t…maybe it never mattered.” I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “You were all I ever wanted,” I say then continue on a whisper, “I believed in you. I believed in us. There was never a time you weren’t good enough for me.” When I finish, I feel my face heat in embarrassment and aggravation. Before I can make an even bigger fool out of myself, I hurry away in search of my sister and alcohol.
“Shot! Shot! Shot!” I chant loudly, along with everyone else at the table, as my sister shoots back a shot of tequila. Her eyes meet mine as she slams the glass down on the tabletop, and I giggle at the pinched expression on her face.
“Your turn,” she yells, pointing at me, and I pick up my shot glass and shoot it back, feeling the burn in my chest as the heat of the alcohol hits my system. It’s not my first shot; actually, I’m pretty sure it’s my twelfth. I’m feeling good.
Happy…
Relaxed…
After my talk with Evan—or my weird outburst, I should say—I found July and Wes in what they consider the common room. My sister, being my sister, took one look at my face and yelled, “Harlen!” and the second Harlen, who I’m pretty sure is a real-life giant, appeared, we started trying to outdrink him. I have no idea why. The task is pointless; the guy looks like he could drink a bottle of tequila alone and still not feel the effects.
“You know you girls are never going to be able to outdrink Harlen, right?” Mic, one of Wes’ friends, asks from my side, and I turn my head and grin at him.
“I know.” His eyes drop to my mouth and he smiles. Biting my lip, I look away from him. He’s definitely good-looking, like super hot, but I vowed to stick to my story of lesbianism. I’m not even sure if that’s a real thing, but I need a man like I need a hole in my head.
“Caaan someone call me a cab or Lüber or whatever?” I slur, looking around the table. I need to get out of here. The alcohol I’ve drunk is floating through my system, making me feel loose.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” my sister says with a pout from across the table, taking another shot.
“I need to get home before I do something stupid,” I tell her honestly, hearing a few chuckles from the men surrounding us.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Mic says softly next to me, and my eyes slide to him.
“You would be the somethin’ stupid,” I tell him, and he smiles bigger, placing his hand on the back of my chair and leaning slightly in to me. At his move, I lean back and blurt, “I’m still in love with my ex-husbeen.”
Blinking, he leans back then rumbles, “Fuck.”
“Ezzactly.” I nod then let out a breath, looking around the table. Everyone has been drinking, and my dad taught us from the time we were young to never, not ever, get in a car with anyone who has even had one beer.
“You hab your phone?” I ask my sister sitting across the table from me when her eyes meet mine.
“It’s in Wes’s room. Where’s yours?”
I bite my lip again. I never have my cell. The stupid thing is annoying, so I constantly leave it behind. I should probably start carrying it. “At home,” I tell her, and she nods like it makes total sense then looks at Wes.
“Can we give her a ride?” she whispers, or she tries to, but she’s so drunk it comes out loudly and everyone at the table looks at her.
“She can stay here,” he replies, running his thumb over her bottom lip.
“Can we stay here too?” she asks, leaning in to him and biting his thumb. His answer is a growl. Dragging my eyes from them, I look around. I don’t want to stay here, but I’m so drunk, things are starting to look a little—or a lot—blurry.
“Come on. I’ll get you settled,” Mic says quietly, helping me out of the chair I planted myself in a few hours—or minutes—ago. I’m not sure how long it’s been.
“Thaaanks,” I slur, leaning in to him. I don’t even know where he leads me. I hear him talking to someone, but my mind is so fuzzy I can’t even tell what he’s saying. The second I’m directed to a bed, though, I lie down face-first and pass out.
*
I semi-awaken as I feel warmth and smell something I swear my soul recognizes as its own. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want this feeling coursing though me to end. Breathing steadily, I let my body absorb the feeling of the hand wrapped around my waist, the steady breath at the back of my neck, and the weight settled against me. I know I’m going to wake up and this is going to be a dream, so I want to consume all of it, memorize every single second. This is like every other time I’ve woken up thinking Evan is with me—that his arms are holding me, that he still loves me—only now I know what we had isn’t what I made it out to be.
A hand rises, cupping my breast, and the hard length of a man presses against my ass. Squeezing my eyes closed, I pray I’m still dreaming, pray I didn’t do something fucking stupid last night and didn’t make my fucked-up life even more fucked up.
Cracking my eyes open, I see a plain white wall in front of me. My eyes drop to my chest, and sure enough, there’s a large hand wrapped around my breast.
I have no idea what I did last night. The whole night is a complete blur, but I don’t remember getting into bed with anyone. Scooting carefully across the expanse of the bed so I don’t disturb my bed partner, I finally get free and roll off the side, putting one knee and one hand on the floor at a time until I’m on all fours. Lifting my head over the edge of the bed, I see…Evan? His eyes are closed, his face soft in sleep.
“How the hell did you get here?” I ask under my breath, dropping my forehead to the floor.
“I put you here last night,” Evan answers from above, but I pretend I don’t hear him as I attempt to scoot under the bed to hide, but the frame is too low to the floor.
His hand touches my back and my head flies up.
“Morning,” he whispers, running his fingers along my hairline.
Blinking, I look around. Even knowing he’s talking to me, I still try to see if there is someone else he’s talking to so softly. I’ve missed his gentle voice more than I will ever admit. I missed all of him, but I really missed how soft he always was with me, how he treated me like I was something delicate, something he needed to take care of, something he cherished above anything else.
“Why…what am I doing here?”
His eyes run over my hair and face for a moment and he looks toward the door. “I came back last night and you were trashed,” he says with his eyes on the door while running his hand through his hair.
“I asked for a cab,” I tell him, and his gaze drops back down to me.
“I wanted to keep an eye on you. You were pretty out of it, and I didn’t want you to be alone if you got sick.”
“Oh,” I whisper, sitting back on my knees and wrapping my arms around my waist. This is awkward—or more than awkward, whatever that is.
“It’s not even six. Come back up here. You can get up in a bit,” he says quietly, and my eyes move around the room. It’s small, with a double bed, and a single dresser under a small window. There is nothing perso
nalizing the space, but it’s clean and I see a bathroom off to the side.
“I should go. Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I do?”
His answer is a jerk of his chin, so I get up off the floor and head for the bathroom. Closing the door, I look at myself in the mirror above the sink. My image is distorted through the shattered glass. Raising my fingers to the broken mirror, I see blood imbedded between the broken pieces. Pain slices though me, along with understanding. I’m not sure what happened to Evan when he left, but the man I saw last night—the guy who spoke to Jordan like he would lay him out and not stop to check his pulse—isn’t the guy I fell in love with. This Evan is different. He’s scary and angry, and I can tell he’s fighting demons, but even with all that, I find myself wanting to soothe him.
Biting my lip, I turn on the water and splash my face to get rid of the tears that started to fill my eyes. I want to fix him, or hug him.
Yeah, because you’re a glutton for punishment and half-idiot! my mind screams.
Finding some toothpaste in the drawer, I use my finger as a brush, rinse out my mouth, and then take care of business before washing my hands and opening the door.
Evan is no longer in bed, but up and putting on a pair of jeans. His eyes come to me, and I brace myself, running my hands down my hair in an attempt to smooth it out. I don’t know what to expect from him anymore. He always seems to be in a rush to get away from me.
“Would you have breakfast with me?” he asks after a moment.
I hear the question, I know I do, but my mind is solely focused on his shirtless torso as he moves across the room to the dresser. He always had a great body, but now it’s bigger, stronger. There are muscles on top of muscles, and definition that wasn’t there before. I feel my face heat when he turns toward me. He’s beautiful. His body is a work of art, and I want to touch him. I want to know what it feels like to have his bearded face against my delicate skin. I want to know if the rough edges I see now are smooth to the touch.
“June.” My name in his coarse tone gets my attention, but when our eyes meet, it’s not anger he’s looking at me with. It’s raw, powerful, hungry possessiveness. My legs go weak, and I’m surprised I don’t topple over where I stand. He starts toward me, closing the distance between us. Realizing he’s coming at me, I back up and hit the wall with nowhere else to go.