When I passed a floral shop, I went inside to breathe in the closest scent of nature I could get. But it only made the pain throb more, so I left minutes later.
I found myself at Forbidden. She worked tonight and would’ve already started her shift by now. I watched the building, the front lights, and the line forming to get in as a doorman admitted the guests in small groups at a time.
She was in there.
I expelled a breath, almost settled to know she was so close. Even though I’d promised myself I’d leave her alone and not find out where she was, now that I knew, I relished the knowledge.
Since it was Friday, it was Asher’s night for his band to perform, and the place looked busy. It made me think they were a fairly popular group. He’d definitely had a nice voice last night when he sang to himself as he wiped down tables and swept the floor. I might have actually gone inside to listen to him if I didn’t know she was in there.
I didn’t realize how long I’d leaned against a building down the block, just watching the club, until employees started to exit. Finally, it occurred to me what a stalker I was being. Shit. Had I really been lurking here for hours, just waiting to see her?
When she exited, escorted by Mason, I tugged the hood of my sweater up and backed into a shadow. My greedy gaze gobbled her up as the two of them crossed the street. Mason politely remained by her car until she’d unlocked her door and waved him good-bye.
The beat-up junker she climbed into coughed to life, its one headlight spilling across the parking lot, and then it chugged clunkily onto the street.
I shook my head. What the hell was she driving? I wouldn’t even classify that piece of shit as a car.
Watching it disappear down the block and listening to it backfire after she turned a corner stirred a helpless frustration in me, that uncontrollable need to destroy I felt every time I thought of how the one summer I’d spent with her had ruined her entire life.
If only she hadn’t left her family, she’d probably be driving something luxurious and expensive right now, something safe that had no chance of ever breaking down on her or leaving her stranded.
That had been the plan. I’d done what her father had said so she would be okay and taken care of, so she could be safe and never have to drive a piece of shit car to a waitressing job, so she could follow her dream and go to college. But she’d ruined everything when she’d left them.
I looked up at the stars as my inner Hulk yearned to smash. It kept stirring inside me, so I hiked back to the gym and was pleasantly surprised to find it open all night. Took me a couple hours of working out to calm down.
Dawn rose above the city as I returned to the apartment.
Eva was already awake, and she sent me straight to bed as soon as she opened the door for me. I crashed on Julian’s Spiderman sheets and slept hard, without a single nightmare, until it was time to get up for my shift at the club.
Sporting a shirt that actually fit and jeans that were long enough to cover my ankles tonight, I approached the bar, feeling halfway human.
I’d checked the schedule, just to make sure she wouldn’t be working and in the process, I discovered I’d be paired with Asher and Ten. All the signs outside claimed it was karaoke night, and the first thing I noticed when I entered was Asher on the stage, playing with wires and dials to test the sound system.
“Yo, Parker,” Ten called from the bar. “Get your ass over here so I can show you how to switch out these kegs.”
He was rolling a tank out from under the counter as I joined him. As he grabbed its replacement, he explained the process, demanding I hand him shit, sticking up his palm and spitting out things like, “Tube... Clamp... Shank.”
I glowered at him for that last one, and after a second, he glanced up because I hadn’t set anything in his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
I narrowed my eyes, and he finally seemed to catch on. “Not that kind of shank, inmate.” Reaching past me to the counter, he picked up a round chunk of metal. “This...is a beer shank. It attaches to the beer faucet up here, like so.”
As he screwed everything into place, I watched and learned. Afterward, he glanced at me, eyebrows lifted.
I shrugged. “So I have more experience with the other kind of shank.”
“And I just shit myself,” he uttered, gaping at me. “You’re not fucking kidding me right now, are you?”
I only wished I were. “Best defense on the inside that you’ll ever have.”
“Right.” He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the equipment he was showing me how to put together. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
There were only a few more steps he had to teach me, so he turned all business as he did so. I nodded, paying close attention as I soaked everything in.
Afterward, Ten blew out a breath and straightened. When he turned to me and opened his mouth, I knew he was going to say something totally un-work related, and I had a feeling it wasn’t something to put me in a good mood.
“So...yeah. My twin sister died...almost five years ago.”
I blinked, not sure where that had come from. “Excuse me?”
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a nervous manner, he scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It really sucked.”
When he said nothing else, I squinted at him, so he narrowed his eyes right back. “I’m just saying...I get it, okay. All that losing your family bullshit...” He twirled a finger at me. “I understand.”
Oh, hell, no. Was this guy honestly trying to comfort me through my grief? No. Just...no. But the sympathy in his gaze made something in my guts give a hard, vicious twist, and I knew. He really did understand.
Shit, I didn’t want to like this punk. But he was offering me compassion, in a very strange, exasperating way. I actually felt my coldness toward him begin to thaw.
After a brief nod, I muttered, “Okay.”
He blinked, cocked his head to the side and crinkled his brow. Then amusement entered his features. “Well, all right then,” he answered and slapped me hard on the side of the arm. “Glad we had this chat. But don’t expect a hug or anything from me, because I’m not into that shit. ’Kay?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Well...good.”
He began to turn away, until I asked, “Would you really have fucking hugged me?”
With a sniff, he sent me a scowl. “No.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe...if you’d been a total pussy about it and started crying or something.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You really thought telling me it sucked and that you got it would make me cry?”
“Hey, fuck you, man. At least I tried to sympathize.”
I knew he was going to storm off in a pissed-off rage, so I quietly said, “Okay, fine. Thank you for trying.”
Pausing, he sent me a leery squint.
So I added, “And you’re right. It sucks.”
His shoulders deflated a little and he nodded. Sorrow filled his face. “I swear, the happy memories get to you the most. Make you feel like you’re trying to breathe through grinding sawblades or some shit.”
I drew in a sharp breath and nodded, feeling those blades now as Bentley’s innocent little blue eyes and red hair wavered to the forefront of my mind. Then Mercy’s smile as she danced around the kitchen with Hash, Speed and Cobra having a jousting match with empty toilet paper rolls they’d taped together.
Yeah, the happy memories did hurt the most.
“Yeah,” Ten murmured, echoing my thoughts. He nodded, patted me more softly on the arm, and moved out from behind the bar, calling out to all the waitresses and the waiting doorman that it was time to open.
I turned to watch him, and almost jumped out of my skin when I found Felicity right there, on the other side of the counter, frowning as she darted her gaze between me and Ten.
“What’re you doing here?” I demanded, giving an internal wince at how hard and accusing my voice sounded.
/>
Obviously not expecting the question, she yelped and dropped the box of napkins she’d been stuffing.
Wide blue eyes gaped at me. “I...I’m working,” she stuttered before frowning and gritting her teeth as if mad at herself for flinching away from me.
I shook my head. “You’re not on the schedule.”
Her eyebrows crinkled. “Mandy has a sick kid, so I’m filling in her for her.”
“Does Pick know?”
Sputtering, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why? If we can find a replacement, we don’t bother him with little changes here and there.”
Shit, I was stuck working with her for a full night. And she looked really good in that black Forbidden shirt, blue jean skirt and half apron tied snug around her waist.
I drew in a sharp breath as quietly as possible. But, damn. Why did she still have to be so fucking breathtaking?
“Oh,” was all I mumbled as I began to turn away.
“Don’t worry,” she snipped at my back, her tone turning sharp. “I won’t try to make you talk tonight. I’ve completely lost the desire to say anything to you, anyway.”
I closed my eyes and tried not to break as the sound of her tears in the stairwell of Pick’s apartment building echoed through my ears.
It was best to be distant with her, I repeated to myself. It was best for her if I pushed her away.
“Though I did forget to tell you I’m sorry about your family.” Losing the acidity in her voice, she turned slightly sympathetic, which was even harder to resist. “I just learned yesterday that you didn’t know until you were released.”
I nodded, letting her know I’d heard her and hoping she’d move away. But I didn’t hear her leave.
I didn’t like her knowing that no one had told me my family died. It was exactly the kind of thing that would stir up her bleeding heart. And the last thing she needed was to feel any kind of compassion toward me. If I was going to successfully keep her away, she needed to loathe me.
Except I’m pretty sure I didn’t have the heart to be cruel enough to drive her off for good.
Behind me, City spoke again. “I still leave flowers at Bentley’s grave, in case you ever want to know where she’s buried.”
Aww, Jesus. A sob escaped and I immediately bumped a fisted hand to my mouth. I think my knees maybe even buckled, but maybe not because I managed to keep standing. It only felt as if the world had been knocked out from under me. Dizziness assailed me as I glanced back at the woman I loved.
Tears had filled her lashes, but she wasn’t outright crying.
I lowered my hand enough to rasp, “Okay,” and she nodded, sending me a small smile before turning and moving away.
The day of the cotillion seemed particularly hot and muggy. As I pulled on my mauve dress that mother had called puce, I groaned. This suffocating thing was going to stifle me in the heat even more. So I paused before slipping the straps over my shoulders to draw in one last fresh breath. Since the top part of my back would be exposed before the bottom part tied together corset style, I couldn’t wear a bra.
I took a moment to gaze at my bare breasts in the mirror, remembering Knox’s mouth on them. They were a little sore today, in a good achy way. Whenever I thought about what we’d done, the ache would spread, blossoming out my nipples and down between my legs. I wished he were here now, so I could press down against the hardness under his jeans and relieve some of this pulsing throb.
I was horny, I realized with a start, and it made me laugh.
Throughout all my childhood, I’d always felt like a misfit who could never fit in or do things like normal people. When I’d gone to school, the feeling continued because I was so paranoid. But after the way my family had always treated me like an outsider, I’d been too afraid to put myself out there.
I’d been so sure I’d grow old alone and sad because I could never find a place to fit in. But yesterday, a boy had told me he loved me, and he’d kissed my breasts, and I felt so far above a normal, average girl today; I freaking glowed. And I knew where I fit in now.
Suddenly understanding why Jeremy had wondered if I’d lost my virginity, I flushed even harder. Would people really be able to tell I was in love just from looking at me? What if someone in my family noticed and decided to investigate? What if, someday, they followed me out to meet Knox and found us together?
“Felicity!” Mother’s irritated voice called from the base of the steps. “Really. What is taking so long? The hair stylist and makeup artist are here and waiting.”
With a sigh, I fastened the rest of my dress, slid on the heels Mother had chosen to go with it, and hurried from the room. “I’m coming.”
As I clattered down the steps, Mother glared at me from the bottom. “Tread more carefully, will you? You sound like a herd of buffalo tromping down the stairwell. I’d at least like to give the hair stylist the illusion you’re a proper young lady.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, ducking my face and slowing my step so the tap of heels could be more ladylike.
Sniffing in disgust, Mother grabbed my arm and hauled me after her. I think the ladies waiting in the parlor to fix me up had heard my scolding. They each sent me sympathetic grimaces and were extra nice as they worked simultaneously on my face and hair. The entire time, my mother stood guard, offering the occasional nasty critique, and by the time they were done, I had to admit, I looked good. I swear the makeup made me appear eighteen, maybe even older. And there wasn’t an ounce of frizz to my hair; every curl looked amazing.
“The photographer’s here,” Father announced as he strolled by, shuffling through a pile of mail in his hands.
“Good.” Mother urged me to stand with an almost proud smile, then she called sharply. “Abbott. She’s ready. What do you think?”
“Hmm?” He paused to frown at her.
Mother hitched her chin my way. “Felicity,” she said.
“Oh, yes.” He glanced over, barely looking at me. “Very nice.”
“I know.” Mother preened. “I had to go out of state to find just the perfect stylist to produce this kind of miracle to her untamable hair.”
I shrank my shoulders a little, embarrassed that for a moment there, I thought she’d been happy with me and the way I looked. But no, she was pleased with the transformation she had orchestrated.
No longer worried about glowing from my newfound love in front of her or anyone else in my family, I followed her outside, miserable and hot, and ready to get the day over with.
Garrett met us as he was going in. He paused and took me in, studying me from head to toe. After a snort, he passed by, saying, “Might’ve looked better if you’d stuffed your bra.”
I gazed after him as he entered the house, definitely no longer glowing and suddenly self-conscious. What if Knox had had the same thought? What if he’d been disappointed? He hadn’t seemed as if he minded my breast size last night, but what if—
“Felicity!” Mother snapped. “My God, what is wrong with you? Quit dawdling and come along.”
I nodded and hurried after her toward a man who was waiting with a black bag slung over his shoulder and one of those enormous professional cameras in hand.
He’d already scoped out the yard and had a few places in mind to click off some shots. I swear, I was this close to getting stung by a bee at the rose arbor, but I didn’t say a word.
After getting a majority of my poses in the gazebo, Mother decided she wanted a family portrait taken here too, since the photographer was on hand.
Twenty minutes of moaning and grumbling later, the men in the family joined us. Max might have been the only person to tell me I looked nice, but he was too self-absorbed at the moment, lost in his own thoughts, to notice anyone else, and I was grateful.
I wasn’t sure what to think of him anymore. I might’ve even trusted Garrett more than I did Max. Garrett had always been open and forthright over any loathing he felt. Max was too guarded, and now I knew he wasn’t quite as kind as I’d
always thought he was.
Lost in my own thoughts about how I wanted to avoid Max from here on out, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a loud crack, like a tree limb falling and crashing to the ground, came from the trees just inside the woods.
“What the devil was that?” my father groused as Mother gasped and clutched his arm.
“I think someone’s out there,” Max reported, lifting his hand to his eyes to shade some sunlight as he gazed into the woods.
I zipped my attention that way, only knowing of one person who frequented this forest. When I saw a shadow slipping through the trees, I gasped and set my hand against my chest.
“That better not be my fucking diaper vandal,” Garrett roared. He took off sprinting into the trees, and Max started after him.
Worried about Knox, I started off too, but Mother caught my arm and tripped me up. “Felicity! Do not go out there.”
I opened my mouth but had no idea how to answer.
Seconds later, I heard a shout, and then Garrett’s triumphant, “Got him!”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, praying it really was some random peeping Tom, and not Knox.
But luck wasn’t with me as both Max and Garrett dragged a resisting, scowling Knox into our yard.
As Mother continued to hold me back at her side, my father stepped forward, frowning. “What’re you doing on Bainbridge property, boy? Just who do you think you are?”
“He’s one of the Parkers,” Max reported, and Garrett growled. “Are you the asshat vandalizing my room with dirty fucking diapers?”
Knox glanced at him briefly. “Why would I vandalize your room when I know you weren’t the one to get my sister pregnant?” Then he sliced a glare Max’s way that was so hard and accusing I gulped in fear, worried he might try something to really get himself into trouble.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Max ordered just as Father glanced at my mother and said, “Call the sheriff.”
Mother nodded and turned toward the house to get a phone. I pulled free of her grip and remained where I was on the steps of the gazebo. Knox hadn’t looked at me yet, and I willed him to just as much as I willed him not to. I ached for some kind of message from him, reassuring me he was going to be okay, just as much as I feared he might give us away if he glanced anywhere toward me.