Can't Resist Him

by Molly McLain

  “Dammit, don’t make this harder than it has to be—”

  “Me? You’re a liar! You said we were in this together!” she cried, painfully aware that it was probably for nothing. “I let you...I trusted you...” She broke, unable to finish the thought, let alone the sentence. She’d given him more than just her body.

  “I know, babe. And I love that. I’ll never forget. But you...” He caught a t-shirt she’d flung at him. “I don’t want you to see me go through this, okay?”

  Uh huh. Same song and dance. It was always about protecting her. Poor little Jenny. Incapable of anything more complicated than fucking. “Don’t play me like I’m stupid, Brody. I’ve made it pretty damn clear that I’m not afraid to get dirty—bleed even—if it means being there for you. Don’t insult me.”

  He threw his hands in the air and roared, “I’m not trying to! I’m just saying this is gonna get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. I told you that before. I can’t bring you along for that!”

  “Do I look like a goddamn shrinking violet?” she snapped, stabbing a finger into the center of his chest. She was losing her shit and fast. Still strong, but not in the way she’d planned. Self-protection she thought she wouldn’t need again kicked in full force. “If you want to take the coward’s way out rather than deal with this together, fine. But don’t pretend it’s because I can’t handle it.”

  He gave a low, humorless laugh. “Believe me, babe. I know how tough you are. The problem is—I’m not right now. And I’m too damn proud to let you hold me up through this.”

  “That’s what people do when they love each other!” she cried, every fiber of her being shaking. “They lean on each other. They wipe away each other’s tears. They—”

  Brody shook his head, his dark eyes clearer than they had been in days, and the truth sliced through her like an sharp blade of ice. Silence, loud and clear, filled the room.

  “Oh.”

  “Jenn...” He grabbed for her arm, but she was already halfway to the bathroom. “Don’t. Not like this.”

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, I’ll give you that.” Somewhere deep inside, her armor began to chink back together, click by click, giving her the power to turn around and look him square in the eye. “Congratulations, Brody. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve turned out to be an ever bigger asshole than Reed.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “At least he never pretended to love me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He could’ve gone after her. He could’ve told her that she was the best damn thing in his life and that his feelings for her were one hundred percent friggin’ real. He could’ve made her regret that comparison to Reed mother-fucking Fletcher in a goddamn heartbeat.

  But he didn’t. He let her go, because it didn’t change the fact that he had to hurt her now or hurt even more later.

  Thirteen days later in a biker bar in Oklahoma City, nursing who the hell knew what number beer, he stood by his decision. This was where he needed to be right now. The smoke and the booze and the bone humming rock lulling him into complete numbness.

  “Hope you’re ready to hate yourself in the morning.” Sam, suddenly the voice of fucking reason, shook his head when Brody waved the bartender over for another shot.

  “That would be different than every other morning how?” He downed the Jameson and crooked his fingers for a refill. The burly dude with a braided goatee and a dozen piercings in his face smirked, took a twenty from Brody’s stash, and left the half-filled bottle on the bar. “Much appreciated, man.” Lifting his knuckles, they swapped skin before the guy went on his way, working the rest of the rough, loud-mouthed crowd.

  “Jesus Christ.” Sam snorted before the lip of his beer. “This is about her, isn’t it? I fucking told you this was going to happen.”

  “Yep. You did.” Brody spun around on the stool, Jameson in hand, feeling heavy limbed and a few shots away from sufficiently inebriated. “Let’s shoot pool.”

  “Where? With those beauty queens over there?” Sam jutted his chin toward a group of OKC Devil Chasers currently using a redhead as a shooting prop. Her tits spilled out onto the table as the dude behind her spent more time lifting her skirt and slapping her ass than he did eyeing up his play.

  Looked like a good time.

  “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped off the stool and Sam grabbed his arm.

  “You on a suicide mission or what? Sit your ass back down.”

  “I wanna shoot.” And find that solitude he’d only get by hitting rock fucking bottom. If he needed to piss someone off to get there, so be it.

  “You really are fucked in the head.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” He rounded on Sam so fast, the room spun. Getting closer. “You did not just say that.”

  Sam sat back on the stool, crossed his arms, and smirked. “Sure did.”

  Funny bastard. “You don’t even know the half of it, asshole.” Taking a swig, he glanced back at the OKC table. Apparently the pool sticks in this joint were multi-purpose. The redhead looked pleased.

  “No?” His friend laughed, pure instigation rattling his lungs. “I was there, too, Nelson. I saw the same damn shit you did. You think it doesn’t creep in on me every now and again? I see Troy more now than when he was fucking alive!”

  Brody closed his eyes and conjured up the image that was never too far off. One minute, Troy was jaw jacking about getting laid and the next he had blood pissing from his femoral artery.

  “I get that you were in charge that day. That you feel some sort of responsibility for what happened. You think the Commander hasn’t gone through worse? Reality check, motherfucker—this is what we do. Every one of us, every goddamn tour.”

  No shit. None of that was new to him. Even before therapy, he’d tried—repeatedly—to remind himself that the shit in his head probably wasn’t any different than any of his fellow Marines dealt with on a daily basis, too. Didn’t matter, though. It didn’t stop him from picturing Ernie with a kid on his shoulders, or dragging a Christmas tree through a field with a woman and a couple little ones in tow. Didn’t stop that same old guilt from stabbing through his chest when he pictured himself doing those same things with Jenny and their kids.

  Dammit, he wanted a future with her. More than he’d wanted anything, maybe ever. But he couldn’t give her that until he got his head straight. Until then, he’d just bring her down with him.

  “Well, it looks like my days are numbered anyhow. I’m out next year.”

  Sam half-snorted, half-laughed. “What-the-fuck-ever, dude. You’ll be camped out at the door, waiting to reenlist. Don’t kid yourself.”

  “Nah, I mean it. This isn’t what I want anymore.”

  “Oh, really?” His buddy’s sneer made Brody’s blood boil. This was his decision, dammit. He’d made it and he was sticking with it. “You giving up because of the diagnosis or the pussy?”

  Crash! Brody slammed the bottle of Jameson down on the bar, shattering the glass and slicing open his hand in the process. He hissed with the burn, watching crimson roll down his arm and drip from his palm. Fuck yeah.

  “I’m out because I say I’m out, motherfucker.” Something he could control. Unlike anything else in his life.

  Sam’s muttered curse was the last thing Brody heard before two sets of beefy hands grabbed him from behind. He grinned as Sam rose from his stool, panic on his face.

  Seconds later, his back hit the gravel in the parking lot and he watched with eager eyes as one gnarled, tattooed fist zeroed in on his face. The punishing metal of a ring crunched the cartilage in his nose at the same time a boot snapped the right side of his rib cage.

  He closed his eyes and let the numbness carry him away.

  Rock bottom never felt so good.

  ***

  “Fuck him and his micro penis, too.” On the floor in front of her, Nicole shook the bottle of Arrest Me Red nail polish while Jenny taste-tested Ally’s nonalcoholic chocolate martini.

  “Tast
es better with booze, but it’ll do.” She handed the drink back to her pregnant friend and tried to keep her ticklish toes steady while Nicole went to work, making her look and feel beautiful. “For the record, Brody most definitely does not have a micro penis.”

  Ally scoffed. “You know, you used to be a lot better at this man-bashing stuff. As one of the only single girls we have left in this town, the rest of us are counting on you, Jenn. Don’t let us down.”

  She smiled, even though being relegated back to the singles club made her chest ache. “Sorry, ladies, I guess I’m not rebounding from my rebound very well.”

  Nicole scrunched her face. “You think that’s all Brody was? A rebound from Reed?”

  “Maybe. No. Not, really.” She fisted her hair and shifted her feet for Nicole. “All I do know for sure is that it felt good. Well, I mean, up until it hurt. That part pretty much sucks.”

  Ally cocked her head, a knowing grin on her face. “Well, well, is it possible the untamable Jenny Riley fell in love?”

  Untamable? Ouch. She picked up her drink, knowing she was about to sound as pitiful as she felt, “I’ve always been tamable, Al. The problem is no one’s ever wanted me like that.”

  “Jenn...” Nicole made a pouty face. “That’s not true.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure it is. Brody’s only the third guy I’ve actually dated. The rest...” Every town needed a bed warmer just as they needed a crazy cat lady. Maybe she could become both and let everyone else off the hook.

  “I had no idea.” Ally put a hand to her chest. “You’re my best friend and I had no idea until just now how miserable you’ve been. My God, Jenn. Why didn’t you say something?”

  She gave a short, sniffly laugh. “What would I say? I’m jealous as hell of you and Mark? That seeing our circle of friends slowly partner up over the years felt like a noose getting tighter around my neck? I thought I wanted Reed, but the truth was I just didn’t want to be alone.”

  “Is that what happened with Brody?” Nicole capped the polish and sat back, her arms wrapped around her knees. “You just didn’t want to be alone?”

  It was entirely possible she’d dropped her guard with him because she’d been desperate for a connection, but being with Brody didn’t feel like desperation. It felt like completion. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t think so either.” Ally slid from the couch to the floor to stretch out her legs. “If that were the case, you would’ve jumped him that first night. You held out for something more, though. And you got it.”

  Another bitter laugh. “Had it, you mean. You’ll notice he’s not here right now, nor has my phone seen a single text from him since he tore out of my driveway like his ass was on fire.”

  Ally reached up and gently touched her knee. “I’ve never been one to make excuses for a man before, especially not one who’s broken my best friend’s heart, but maybe he really is trying to protect you.”

  “That’s just it—I don’t need protection! I’m not some naive little girl!” She threw her hands in the air with a frustrated roar.

  “We know about Brody’s PTSD, sweetie.”

  “What?” Recoiling, Jenny pulled back. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Reed said something while we were out a couple weeks ago. You were in Omaha.” Nicole nibbled at the corner of her lip. “He asked Josh and Tony what they knew about it. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but he seemed genuinely worried about you.”

  Oh, my God. Her stomach clenched and the two little spots between her jaw and her ears began to burn. “What is he worried about exactly? That Brody might flip out on me? Physically hurt me? Jesus! He would never touch me like that!”

  Ally smiled appeasingly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t, Jenn. He’s seems like a decent guy—”

  “No!” She jumped to her feet and spun around, her fingers driven back in her hair. “None of you know Brody like I do. None of you have seen his scars or heard his stories or watched him fall apart. Still, you thought it okay to sit around a table at fucking McCauley’s and talk about him like you have?”

  “Sweetie, come on. You’re overreacting.”

  “Overreacting? Are you serious, Al?” Her friend opened her mouth, but Jenny wasn’t done. “That was private information! He hasn’t even told his parents yet!” She paced in front of the fireplace, trying to catch her breath while she processed this bullshit. How could Reed and Sam be so disrespectful? How could her friends not see how disturbing this was?

  Nicole rose to her feet too. She had a stupid grin on her face that Jenny wanted to slap right off.

  “This isn’t funny, Nic. I am so hurt right now.” Hurt for Brody, mostly. Like it wasn’t bad enough he had to deal with the shame privately, now he had to do it with everyone watching, like he was some kind of sideshow freak.

  “You realize what you’re doing, right?” Nic asked cautiously.

  “Trying not to completely flip out? Yeah, I know.”

  Nicole shook her head. “You’re defending the honor of a guy who just dumped you.”

  She stopped pacing and stared at her friend. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Why would you? He hasn’t called in almost two weeks.” More smiling. What the hell was Nicole’s problem?

  “I love him, that’s why. And that hasn’t changed just because he doesn’t love me back.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “How I feel about him?” She gave a wry laugh. “Do you really need to ask me that? Of course I love him. What’s not to love? He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

  “I meant the way he feels about you.”

  She glanced away, her throat suddenly tight, because...no. No, she wasn’t sure at all and she felt like a total bitch for freaking on Brody the way she had. Comparing him to Reed? That was all self-defense. One hundred percent, burned-before self-defense. He didn’t deserve any of that.

  Of course, Brody cared about her. Was it love? Only he could decide that. But she was pretty sure the cold look in his eyes wasn’t an accurate representation of how he truly felt. More than likely, he just wanted her to think he didn’t give a shit because it was the easiest way to cut her loose.

  And it worked.

  She’d flaked and she’d said things she wished she could take back. But if Brody was half the man she thought he was, he knew that. They weren’t kids. This wasn’t one of those pissing match break-ups where they drug out the heavy artillery and bashed the crap out of each other just because they could.

  This was a real relationship. With real feelings. Complicated, real feelings.

  Her cell phone rang on the end table and all three women turned to look at it. As anyone would after eleven o’clock on a Friday night.

  “It’s him,” she said quietly, knowing without even having to look. “Oh, my fucking God, it’s him.”

  She snatched up the phone and ran for the bedroom. Her fingers shook and her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she could hear it in her ears. She stuck the phone to her ear in a breathless rush, slamming the door behind her.

  “Brody?”

  “Sorry, Jenny, it’s Sam.”

  Her stomach hit her toes as she dropped to the bed, a deflated sigh swooshing from her chest. “Oh. Hi, Sam. What going on?” More to point...why are you calling from Brody’s phone?

  In the distance, a deep voice rumbled incoherently. The only words she understood clearly were, “Just take me back to the damn hotel.” Brody voice. The goose bumps that sprang up on her arms recognized it, too.

  “Your boy decided to get his ass kicked tonight and he’s currently bleeding all over my truck.”

  All the adrenaline from moments ago surged through her body once again. “What? Why?”

  “I need to call Jenn,” Brody muttered in the background. “I need to tell her I’m sorry and that I—”

  “What you need is a doctor, man. Hold still; we’re almost there.”

  Jesus. “Where is there?” she demanded
, but Sam didn’t answer. Instead, she just heard groaning. Brody’s groaning. “Dammit, Sam!”

  “Hold on a sec. We’re just pulling into the hospital in OKC. He’s pretty messed up.”

  But he was talking. About her. “Define messed up.”

  “He’s probably got a concussion. Definitely needs a few stitches. There’s a nasty gash on the top of his head.”

  “I’m fine, bro. Fiiine.”

  Messed up and drunk. God. “Let me talk to him.”

  “Uh...” Sam stalled again. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.”

  Probably not, but... “Just give him the phone.”

  “He’s not exactly thinking clea—dude! Hold the hell up!” In the background, the truck door opened, followed by a thud. She flinched. “Jesus, Jenn, you’ve gotta do something about this. He’s going to kill himself if this shit doesn’t stop. Last week, I had to pick him up off the bathroom floor. Earlier this week, he puked in my fucking bed at the hotel. Now this.”

  Tears sprung up in her eyes. Eyes that shifted to the suitcase sitting on the floor by her closet. How quickly could she get to Oklahoma?

  “Sam...give Brody the phone.”

  He gave a disgruntled sigh and she heard him moving around. In the distance, sirens wailed. A semi horn honked. “Come on, man. Let’s get you up off the ground.”

  “I’m good,” Brody slurred. “Totally good.”

  “Fucking Christ.” Sam grunted. Then Brody grunted. A minute later, raspy, labored breath crackled the phone line.

  “Superman?” Don’t cry. Do not cry.

  “Baby? Is that you?” Every word sounded like an effort. Made him breathe a little harder in her ear.

  “Yeah, handsome, it’s me. Heard you tried to be a hero again tonight.” She fisted the comforter and stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears.

  “Not this time.” His wet cough had her pressing her lips together, fighting for control. “I’m a fucking idiot, babe. Thought I could do this alone. Thought I—” He broke off with a garbled, broken moan. The same moan she’d heard seconds before he’d cried in her bed.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. I swear.” Even though it would kill her to listen to him fall apart knowing he was so far away, she’d do it for him. She’d do anything for him. “As soon as we hang up, I’m getting in my car. I’ll be in Oklahoma by morning.”