“Honestly? It’s good for the comic relief. I mean, I spend half the week laughing at that idiot Sarah and her shithead husband,” he says. “On one end, I really like Lux. It’s nice to have a normal guy in the room. On the other hand, he infuriates me. His wife is worse than mine! What the hell is he thinking staying with her?” Ace asks.
“Does the word ‘projection’ mean anything to you?”
Ace laughs. “Are all people this messed up?”
Jade frowns, then nods.
“Oh! Here’s something for you, Doc. I think I have a crush. I can’t tell you who the woman is. Not yet anyway. But she’s very special. She always calls me out on the lies I tell myself. She’s brilliant. She’s got an amazing smile that lights up a room and she doesn’t take any shit,” Ace grins. “She’s bad ass. Just my type.”
“Oh really?” Jade asks, playing into his game. “Where did you meet her?”
Ace is stumped; for a second, anyway. “At a meeting,” he says.
“Oh. A meeting. Interesting. What kind of meeting?”
“A life-changing one,” he says.
“I see! And what makes her your type?”
“She’s independent. She doesn’t need a man. She’s hard-working and knows how to hold a boundary. She can do and does anything she sets her mind to,” Ace brags. “She’s the exact opposite of my ex-wife.”
“Current wife,” Jade reminds him and herself.
“Ha. That’s a joke. She’s hardly acting like a wife. She never really did.”
“What, exactly, does a good wife act like, anyway?” Jade asks, mostly for her own entertainment.
You are horrible at therapy with this guy.
“A good wife is loyal and faithful. She picks you up when you’re down. She stands by you no matter what. She’s always there and makes you a priority,” he says.
“Sounds like Meg,” Jade says.
“Sounds like someone else too,” Ace pushes.
“Sounds like you forgot the rules, Mr. Hartman.”
“Have I forgotten to mention that I hate rules? And Jade? It’s Officer Hartman.”
“Ha ha. I’m not sure if you mentioned it or not, but somehow, I picked up on that,” Jade says. “Now, scoot, your time’s up.”
“I thought I got an extra eight minutes!” Ace protests.
“You’re about to get a kick in the rear. Get moving! And let me know how it goes. I do care, and I do worry about you, you know,” Jade says, planting her body in her chair.
Do not stand up.
“Fine. Have it your way, Ms. O’Leary. Have a great week! See you Friday!”
Three sessions later
“…So the court thing went well. I pick him up at five p.m. on Friday and have him through Monday at five p.m.,” Ace says. “I think she’ll show this time because the judge made it really clear he doesn’t want to see her back in his courtroom. She was terrified. She came in with one of those advocates from the shelter and acted all afraid of me. But she was even more afraid of him. He wasn’t impressed, and he wasn’t hearing any of the domestic violence allegations as he said he’s seen it many times before, and without a documented history, he wasn’t buying it.”
Jade smiles.
“That’s amazing! That’s just what you wanted! Good for you!”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“So, how excited are you to see him? Do you have plans?”
“I’m taking him for ice cream when I pick him up. And I can’t wait to show him his new room,” Ace says. “I’m sort of nervous about having him. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen him and I’m hoping he remembers me.”
“He’s three! Of course he remembers you! Don’t be silly,” Jade says. “He will remember you. I promise.”
“But what do you think he thinks of me? What has she told him about me?”
“Whatever damage she’s done is something you can repair. You’ll have time with him and he’ll see how much you love him. Kids, even young ones, aren’t stupid, Ace,” Jade promises. “What was it like to see her?”
“It was gross. I couldn’t even look at her. I am so disgusted I was ever even married to her. Now I have this kid with her and have to deal with her forever. It’s a horrible feeling. I’m like trapped,” he says. “I love my son, but I can’t believe I’m tied to her forever.”
Jade nods.
“And to see her there with all those advocates and people acting like she was the victim made me sick. They stated that there are four types of abuse. Or five. Who knows? And that I’d done them all. One of them was financial control. I wanted to spit. When she told the judge that one, I wanted to show her what abuse really looks like. I’ve never had the desire to hurt a woman before but I do now—with her,” Ace admits. “I’m so angry and I don’t know how to handle it. She can just sit there and lie to a judge and get away with it. How is that okay?”
“It doesn’t sound like she got away with anything. She has to bring him Friday or she’s going to jail. What are you doing to manage your anger?”
“I’m working out a lot after work. Spending a lot of time at the gym and doing a lot of writing in my journal,” Ace says. “That’s helped somewhat, but isn’t nearly what I need to be able to process this.”
“Those sounds like really helpful techniques.”
Ace nods. She’s almost sure he’s staring at her cleavage and can’t help but wonder why that turns her on.
Jade sits uncomfortably on the edge of Cole’s couch. The silence is so awkward she begs for any distraction to break it. Where is Max? He’s always good for that. Or music? Something. Instead, she waits for him to speak. Nothing. He just stares at her. Don’t break the silence. Practice the silence. In silence, change happens. Let him speak first so you know where he’s really at. It will speak volumes and the silence will go away.
“I don’t know what to say, Jade,” Cole finally says. “I feel pretty helpless here. I mean, I backed off this week because I felt like you needed space, and I anticipated that I’d hear from you. When I didn’t, I knew the issue was bigger than I originally assumed. I love you, Jade. But I can’t be in a relationship with half of you. I need to be with a woman who feels the same about me and who isn’t feeling smothered all the time. I can’t change who I am. I think you understand that. And I can’t change you either. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to change.”
Jade nods, stoic.
She’s numb. She knew this was coming, but doesn’t know how to react. She isn’t even sure she cares. In this moment, that’s what concerns her most, and she doesn’t know how to process it. What she does know is that Cole is a wonderful person. She can even imagine spending her life with him. He’d make a wonderful husband and father. He’s attentive, and kind, and fun to be around. He’s giving, and open, and makes a decent living. But something just feels off. She wishes with everything she has that she could name that something. Maybe then there would be a solution.
“I understand,” she says.
Cole reaches for her hand and she doesn’t bother to pull away. She lets him hold it as he continues what is turning into a monologue.
At least he had the respect to do this in person. At least he didn’t text me or just shoot me an email. He’s a man with class. Why can’t I love him back? What’s wrong with me? Real person? I’m a broken person, is what I am.
Twenty minutes later
“Thanks for telling me face to face. Really,” she gasps. “I need you to understand that you did nothing wrong. I wish I could explain what’s going on with me, but I really don’t understand it myself. You’re a great person, Cole. I hope you really know that. I have to go. This is too hard.”
Jade stands, collects her purse and phone, and walks toward the door.
Cole’s eyes remind her of the sea early in the morning with a heavy layer of fog as she hugs him goodbye and thanks him for the good times they shared together. He looks puzzled and Jade can’t determine why. She doesn’t ask, refusing to risk opening
up more conversation with another man it isn’t going to work out with.
It’s nearly midnight when Jade awakes on her couch to a loud banging on her apartment door. Her heart nearly pounds out of her chest as she jumps to answer it. Flinging it open, Jade steps back three feet when she sees who is behind it.
He stands there the same. Same smell. Same expression of worry and love wrapped into one. Same hair. Same cowlick. Same eyes. She’s intoxicated, and it’s not the Xanax.
Speechless, she opens the door wider and watches Jonah stroll into the kitchen he knows so well. He leans against the counter they’d made love on countless times.
“Hi,” he says plainly.
But behind his greeting is much more than a simple hello: A dare. A challenge. A plea for her to forgive him and love him, despite his flaws.
“Hi,” she says simply, twirling her hair—double dog daring him.
His mouth is on hers and his hands under her shirt before Jade can think. She doesn’t want to think as he carries her to bed. She sucks in every ounce of him like a starving refugee who hasn’t had a proper meal in months.
Jonah makes love to her like it’s for the last time, and she puts the thought out of her head that it probably is. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care where Kate is or what Kate would think. She’s done protecting him and tired of worrying about her. She doesn’t care if he never shows up again. She doesn’t care that she isn’t his priority or that he’s hurt her. The abortion doesn’t matter. The broken promises mean nothing. In this moment, he’s hers, and that’s all Jade can feel. She grinds her hips back at him in perfect rhythm. They make love for hours, stopping only for water and not speaking in between. All their emotions and thoughts are acted out in the ways they touched each other and leave no spots unmarked. Months and months of resentments, questions, heartache, and insecurities are fully recognized in each passionate encounter. There’s pain. There’s pleasure. There’s Ace—the only man she can think of during the entire thing and that’s exactly where she wants to be.
About the Author
Erin Lee is the author of Crazy Like Me, a novel published in 2015 by Savant Books and Publications, LLC. She is also author of Wave to Papa, 2015 and Nine Lives, 2016, with Limitless Publishing. She also penned Alters, Host, Merge, Her Name Was Sam, Take Me As I Am, From Russia, with Love, Greener and award-winning, best-selling When I’m Dead. She is also the author of Losing Faith and co-author of The Morning After with Black Rose Writing and many more.
In her writing time, she works on her Zombie Cupcake Press’ Diary of a Serial Killer Series—the story of a serial killer who hunts women in New England under the guise of an ordinary man. She also works on the sixty-book, twenty-author Escape From Reality Series with Limitless authors Sara Schoen and Taylor Henderson. When she’s not busy escaping reality through words, she tries to make the world a safer place for all.
To join her Facebook street team and fan club group, look for Erin Lee’s Crazy Inklings, Crazy Inklings. It’s pure madness in there.
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/gonecrazytalksoon
Website:
http://www.authorerinlee.com/
Made
(A Pirelli Brother Story)
By A.J. Norris
Chapter One
Earl
How did he get here? He didn’t mean physically. Of course, he’d hopped a plane and arrived at this tropical paradise two and a half weeks ago. Earl had it made back home, until taking out the son of a rival crime family boss. Now, he was in hiding along with his two younger brothers and their girlfriends.
Earl sat at the end of an open-air bar overlooking a beach on some island with the word Grand in the name. He wasn’t sure, and it didn’t really matter. He’d been sitting sucking down whiskey on this stool so long, his ass numbed out. And his mind. Well, not completely, he was obsessing about how his life had gone awry with one bullet.
Drinking his whiskey, Earl checked his watch, even though he had no idea why. The limited edition Shinola broke within the first few days he’d had it. Its dials were stuck at five past one.
He waited for the bartender to look the other way, then leaned over and snagged the whiskey bottle the guy stupidly left on the counter behind the bar.
“Hey, put that back!” the bartender yelled.
Oops, busted. Earl smirked and shrugged. “I’m good for it.”
The bartender waved him off. “Just make sure you pay me tomorrow, all right?”
“Don’t I always?”
Leaving the bar with the bottle in hand, he staggered closer to the ocean. As he walked along the edge of the water, the sun started dipping below the horizon. He took a swig, emptying the bottle. Gentle waves lapped at his legs, soaking the hems of his linen pants. Earl had traded in his usual suit for a more island look.
A larger wave crashed the beach, splashing water over his knees. He stepped on a shell as the water ebbed, cutting his foot. Earl dropped the whiskey and stumbled. Falling hard, he got a mouthful of wet sand. He coughed, spat the grit out, and rolled over. The liquor sloshed around in his stomach.
He lay there, letting the water wash over his body, because why? Why not? He didn’t have anything better to do. The stars above him twinkled and spun. Or maybe he was spinning. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted…
“Are you okay, sir?”
He gasped and sat up, only to lay back down again. “Mmmm,” he groaned. Damn whiskey.
“Do you need help?” a woman with a British accent asked, kneeling next to him. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun and she wore a pair of jean shorts and a string bikini top. He entertained the idea of her being an angel because if he could choose his heaven, it would include this scenario. Not that he would be allowed past the pearly gates. He’d committed enough crimes to be locked up forever, and that included an eternity in Hell. The life of a crime boss’s son wasn’t a pretty one.
Earl focused on her face. In a matter of a few seconds, he deemed her too young and too beautiful for him. Even in the fading light, he could tell. What was she like twenty, maybe twenty-two, tops?
“Your foot’s bleeding.”
“Is that why it stings?” He rolled up and nearly puked, still buzzing from the alcohol. Earl examined the gash in the arch of his foot. Man, he probably needed stitches.
“May I get you some help, sir?”
There she went again, being all polite. “Naw, I’ll be fine.”
Concern showed in her expression. She wet her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out. For a moment, he fantasized about kissing her pouty pink mouth. Well, truly he thought about other things she could do with…nooo. Down boy. Getting this doe-eyed girl mixed up in his crazy world would be a bad idea. No one deserved to be dragged into his mess—at least not unsuspectingly.
“Really, I’m fine.” Smile, dummy, so she leaves you alone. A corner of his mouth lifted. Okay, he forced a fake semi-smile. It was probably more creepy than friendly.
“The cut looks deep. At least let me help you off the beach.”
“Not necessary.” Yeah, I might sleep here tonight. Care to join me? “I’m old enough to be your father.” What? Where had that come from?
She giggled and held her hand out to him.
Okay, fine. But he wasn’t enjoying this at all. She proved stronger than he’d thought when she hauled him to his feet using both hands. He leaned on her for support as he hobbled to the wooden plank boardwalk overlooking the beach.
“Thanks for the lift. I’ll take it from here.” Earl sat sideways on a bench, propping his foot.
“Are you sure I can’t get you some help?”
“Nope. I’ve just had too much of this,” he said, miming tossing back a drink.
“Oh.” She smiled. “I don’t recommend you go swimming after drinking.”
“I wasn’t—no, you’re right. Not a good plan.” He stopped himself from starting an argument. She didn’t deserve negativity thrown at her, especiall
y since her recommendation hadn’t meant to stir his temper. She didn’t know him and what buttons pushed him over the edge.
Maybe this new life was a way to reinvent himself, be the man he ought to be, not who he was raised to be. Being the son of an infamous crime lord hadn’t given him a great start in life, even if they had tons of money.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re all right—” The scar from the bullet that had ripped a hole in Earl’s gut stretched as he laid his back on the bench. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. “You’re not all right. I can—”
“Naw, go on, I’m fine. I’m sure you must have a boyfriend or…someone waiting for you.” Being a concerned citizen was fine, but now this beauty showed too much empathy toward him, something he didn’t deserve.
A funny looked crossed her face. He wasn’t sure what it meant, if anything. She walked away though, after she said, “Take care. And no swimming after drinking.”
“Oh, God,” he muttered. Five more minutes with her and he didn’t know what he might do. Ask for her number or blow his brains out. Her hips swayed as she wandered down the boardwalk. She stopped at a vendor stand selling sunglasses, hats, and bottled water. The guy peddling the goods put a wide-brimmed straw hat on her. Earl was suddenly envious of the silly hat, wondering what her hair smelled like and if her long legs were as smooth as they looked. She glanced in the mirror set up on the cart, took the hat off, and walked away. Later, he’d decide this was the moment he fell for her. Damn. He hadn’t even learned her name.
His back hurting was the only reason Earl left the bench. He might have spent the night there otherwise. Walking up the steps of the private beachfront villa he rented, he realized his shoes were missing. Had he left them at the bar?
He let himself inside and used the wall as a guide to the bedroom instead of turning on the lights. His head throbbed. All he wanted was his bed, but then he remembered the cut on his foot. Earl patted the wall inside the bathroom for the light switch. As the light came on, he squinted. Digging around the medicine cabinet, he pulled out bandages and hydrogen peroxide. Hiking his foot onto the counter, he doused the cut with the peroxide. The liquid fizzed and dripped into the sink. After finishing cleaning and covering the wound, he limped to the bed and crashed on top of the sheets.
Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8) Page 24