Twisted Love (Blinded Love Series Book 3)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  I shut down the emotion inside, turning it to cinders and ash.

  The squeal of his tires brought me back to the present, watching his car tear around the corner, away from me.

  A weight pulled me into the murky depths of shame. The memory of Chris showing up at that party, watching me hook up with someone else, was not a dream. He had been there. Came looking for me.

  I guess that makes you the asshole, Stevie.

  Chapter Nine

  “There is a ton of amazing food in DC, but I have to admit, I miss this pizza.” Jaymerson groaned as she bit into a slice.

  “It’s against New York rules to admit any other pizza is better than theirs.” I tugged off the cheese, the hot sauce and mozzarella melting on my tongue.

  It had been two days since the fight with Chris. Emlyn was being monitored carefully but had been stable since the surgery.

  “They’ll revoke your membership?” Whiskey wiped her mouth, smiling.

  “Take the keys to the city away and probably ban me for life.” I nodded, chomping down on the delicious slice. There was not too much better than New York pizza, folded in half, while you held a beer in the other hand on a warm summer evening. Perfection. But there was something extra special about the pizza at Marco’s here at home. Probably more nostalgia than anything, taking me back to the trouble I got into.

  “New York can keep their pizza. After having it in Florence, there’s nothing better than that.” She picked up her soda, frowning at it. “A margarita pizza with a bottle of Barbera wine. Oh, do I miss that.” She tipped her head back in ecstasy. “It was Luca’s and my favorite meal. We practically had it every night.”

  “Luca.” I sighed. “Poor guy. Came here all the way from Italy, made the grand gesture to make you his wife, proclaimed his love for you, and he still had no chance in hell. Maybe if he brought a bottle of Barbera and a pizza?”

  Whiskey falsely glowered at me, trying not to laugh.

  Luca had no hope against Hunter. Even after a year apart, Hunter and Jayme were destined to be and not even a sexy Italian could stand in the way of that.

  “Have you talked to him since?” I took a gulp of my drink.

  “No, but both Colleen and Sammie see him at the galleria. I guess he’s dating a girl who works at the café attached to the museum and is very happy.”

  “Good.” I nodded. “He’s a good guy, maybe rash and a little misguided, but he deserves to find that perfect person for him.”

  “Speaking of…” She sat back in her seat, her eyebrows lifting.

  Crap. I walked into that one. My gaze went down to my pizza, picking at the toppings.

  “Stevie…”

  “What?” I popped an olive into my mouth, smiling innocently, which made her roll her eyes.

  “We’ve never been anything but blunt to each other, not gonna stop now.” She leaned forward. “What happened with Chris? And stop avoiding me.”

  “How did this conversation switch to Tarzan?” I snarled at my pizza, my appetite coiling in on itself.

  “Stevie.” She sighed with annoyance. “Sometimes I want to knock both your heads together. Actually, make that all the time.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. He’s an ass. End of story.” I slumped back in my chair, staring out the window.

  Whiskey tapped her fingers on the table. “I try not to push because I know you will shut down, but you know I don’t buy your bullshit, right?”

  My head jerked back at her declaration, unease flushing my cheeks.

  “You’re my best friend, Stevie. You don’t think I can’t sense the pain you keep buried underneath? You’re not that good of an actress.”

  My defenses twirled and leaped, ninja-like. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I tell you everything. Do you know how much it hurts that you can’t even tell me what happened between you guys before? That you can’t confide in me about anything?”

  I wiggled on my seat.

  “I thought we shared something. A bond.”

  “We do.” I muttered, not able to look at her. “You’re my only real friend.”

  “But still you can’t let me in.”

  “Don’t take it personally.” I pulled my long hair over one shoulder, playing with the ends. “I don’t open up to anyone.”

  “I’m not anyone,” she retorted, a slice of anger in her words.

  I couldn’t blame her for being hurt. Normal friends were supposed to share, to tell each other things. The problem was that I wasn’t normal. There were realities and truths I didn’t even want to affirm to myself. I knew they were there, like Christmas lights people keep up year around. After a while you stop seeing them, but you knew they’re there, ready to be illuminated again.

  “Can I ask you something?” Jayme laced her hands together, putting them on the table, licking her lips. “Did you catch Chris with someone?”

  My notice went back out the window with a shrug. Yeah, I did, but it seems he caught me first. Drunk as I was, I still couldn’t be mad at him for something I did first…but logic seemed to take a backseat. It felt different because it was her.

  “Megan,” Jayme bluntly said, gaining my full attention.

  “What?”

  “It was Megan, wasn’t it?”

  “Uh.”

  “I know it was her.” Jayme half nodded, half shook her head.

  “How?”

  “It’s not hard to see once you’re looking. The way you bristle when she’s around. Is she why you broke up?”

  “Broke up?” I chuckled. “We were never together. And that’s their story to tell if they want to share it. Doesn’t affect me.”

  “Doesn’t affect you?” Jayme tossed up her hands. “Are you kidding? That had to be so painful.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Stevie, stop acting as though you didn’t care about him, because I know you did. Both of you did.”

  “Evidently not.” I snorted, sipping my tea, wishing it would magically turn into tequila. “And stop analyzing me. Believe me, I’m not deep. All shallow water here. We screwed, had fun, it ended, life went on. Who’s the one still hung up on it, huh, Whiskey? It was almost two years ago, let it go.”

  “And you’re still in love with him.”

  A howl of laughter burst from me so loud, heads turned from tables around us. It was hollow and rang heavy in the air, but I forced out more, slapping the table. “You. Are. Hilarious!” I bayed, pulling attention to our table. “Ape-boy was amazing sex. Nothing more.”

  A mother with a teenage boy gaped at my brashness, jerking her kid back around.

  “That’s right, I said sex! That bad, awful dirty word!” I hissed loudly at the table, the mom glaring at me. The boy was around fifteen and probably knew plenty about sex already, just obviously not from his uptight mom. I loved how parents tried to pretend it didn’t exist. Violence was comfortable and fine, but sex, the most natural thing in the world, was to be shamed and ignored.

  “Stevie.” Jayme tapped my hand, drawing my attention back to her.

  “What?” I growled, crumpling up my napkin and tossing it on my plate, no longer wanting to be here. “The truth is love should be the bad word, not sex. Sex is simple. No one gets emotionally hurt. Love on the other hand is what destroys you. It’s what corrupts and turns everything ugly.” I pushed out of the booth, grabbing my bag. “Thanks for meeting me for dinner. I’ll talk to you later, Whiskey.”

  Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I strode from the restaurant, heading to my car, which was parked next to Jayme’s jeep.

  Aggravation swarmed through me, full of self-justification. My brain rolled around defending the reason for my response. Whiskey was way out of line. Completely off the mark. Hello? In love? Please. How I handled my “relationships” was my business, not hers.

  I was so over Tarzan and had been from the moment I drove away from his place. The amount of sex and partners I had since him was staggering…triple digits.

 
; And you’re still trying to fulfill that hole he left. The voice came from the depths, filled my lungs with crushing weight.

  “Fuck this.” I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, steering the car for the nearest liquor store. Mom only had wine at home, and I needed something a hell of a lot stronger.

  Veering off Main Street, the closest liquor store was in the “shadier” end of town, in a strip mall, along with a gas station and an adult store.

  The streetlights cast an eerie glow down on a handful of cars in the parking lot. I rolled up to the nearest spot to the shop, climbed out, and stomped for the doors. The chimes rang when I entered, letting them know someone was here. A group of jocks in college T-shirts stood at the counter, buying cases of beer and liquor. This was a small town, and I didn’t recognize any of them. They weren’t from around here, probably coming here from the town over for a party.

  Two of them peered over at me as I entered, their gazes riding up and down my body.

  “Hey.” A burly guy with blond hair flicked his head at me, a leer growing on his face. “How are you, pretty one?”

  I kept my head forward.

  “You gonna ignore me? I see how you are,” he grumbled, as though not liking being dissed in front of his buddies.

  The tang of acid filled my mouth, my grip tightening on my keys as I moved past them to a row of hard liquor, putting my concentration into picking out a bottle. My skin prickled with awareness of them. Most girls become highly aware of their surroundings when alone from an early age. Like an animal that’s used to being prey, we’ve grown accustomed to multitasking while being conscious of everything around us. Always on guard.

  The five guys finished paying and headed for the door, the bells on the exit tinkling as they left.

  I took a full breath once they were gone, my shoulders relaxing a bit, but I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth or my heart to slow.

  Calm down, Stevie.

  Grabbing the whiskey bottle I knew I wanted before I even walked in, I went to the counter.

  “ID?” The owner of the shop asked, a man in his forties, his eyes dead of life. Darryl had owned this shop as long as I could remember. We had always come here when I was in high school, and he sold to us way before we turned twenty-one as long as we had a good fake ID.

  He took my real ID, hardly looking at it before bagging my bottle and taking my money.

  “Thanks.” I nodded to him.

  He stared blankly at me, as if the shell continued to move around and live, but the man inside had died years ago.

  Walking out the door, I felt my phone buzz with a text. Pulling it out, I stared down at Whiskey’s number, feeling guilty, angry, and stupid for leaving like I had. Still not ready to deal with it, I hovered over the button to read the message, my attention on the phone.

  For one second, I let my guard down.

  “Hey, blondie.” A man’s voice crawled up my spine. “You were quite rude to my friend in there. He was just being friendly. Wanted to say hi.”

  I spun around, seeing five figures move around me. The reaction was instant, my heart faltered with paralyzing fear, the sharp metallic tang of adrenaline filled my mouth and slithered down my throat. I remembered it the most. All my other senses dulled, but that flavor of fear haunted me.

  Stepping backward for my car, my gaze bobbed to each one semicircling me. Trapping me.

  Prey.

  Victim.

  No. I gritted my teeth. That was the one thing I would never be. Not again.

  “What the hell is your problem? We’re just talking to you.” A dark-haired guy grunted, his lids narrowing on my tense figure.

  My normal biting commentary was trapped under the weight of fear. Panic emptied my head and filled my stomach with cement. I retreated, my butt hitting the hood of my car. Air sucked in and out of my lungs, every muscle coiling with panic.

  “Fucking relax. We only wanted to ask you to go to a party with us.” The blond folded his arms, his brows furrowing as his gaze scanned over me.

  Get in the car, Stevie. Leave. Do something. But I felt as if I were in my nightmare, no longer even seeing the guys in front of me…but my past. Pinned in place, not able to move or cry for help. Dread shredded my guts, pouring freely through my body.

  “You looked like you were fun.” The dark-haired guy waved his hand down my body. “Didn’t peg you for a rigid bitch.” He stepped closer.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” I whispered hoarsely, jerking back, gripping the bottle as a weapon, swinging it up.

  “What the fuck?” Anger streaked his features, his chest puffing up, holding out his arms. He was still close enough, he could easily grab me. “You are a crazy fucking bitch!”

  The Stevie everyone knew, the blunt, don’t-take-shit-from-anyone girl, was my façade. I was probably no different from the man inside the shop. I had also died years ago. The grill of that car taking the last bit of me.

  “Get away from her!” a man’s voice boomed, the sound of a rifle being cocked cracking through the air. The guys jumped, twisting around. I, too, peered back to see the owner from the liquor store standing at the entrance with a large shotgun in his hand. “I’ve seen too many of you douchebags thinking if a girl doesn’t acknowledge you, she must be shown the error of their ways. Now get in your car and get the hell out of here.”

  The dark-haired guy kept his gaze on the man, stepping away from me as he joined his friends. “Fuck, we were just talking to her. Calm down.”

  “You get the hell out of this town and never come back. You do, I have five bullets with your names on them. You got me?”

  “Shit, man. We were just messing around.” The blond backed up more, his hands up. “We weren’t going to do anything.”

  “Count of ten.” Darryl pointed the gun at the group.

  “What the fuck?” a guy with a baseball cap exclaimed.

  “Ten…nine…eight.”

  “Shit.” The blond darted for a gunmetal gray double-cab truck, the rest of the group following his lead. They leaped into the cab, packing in like a clown car, the guy with the baseball hat jumping into the driver’s seat. Smoke puffed off the screeching tires as the truck tore out of the parking lot, hopping over a curb. The roar of the vehicle slowly drifted away, silence creeping in. The creak of my body rolling off my hood, sounded like thunder.

  “You all right?” Darryl still stood in the door, dropping the rifle to his side.

  “Y-yeah.” I nodded automatically.

  He nodded, about to turn back inside.

  “Hey, thank you.” I couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “You were a pain in my ass all through high school, girl. But we take care of our own here,” he replied, then went back inside.

  “Well. Okay.” I stood blinking, staring down at the keys, phone, and bottle clutched painfully between my fingers, digging into my palms. Anger and embarrassment began to claw up my throat. I froze. Was weak…

  Getting into the car, I slammed the door, not completely grasping what had happened. Did anything really happen? Did I overreact? They were jerks, but my reaction was severe. They didn’t actually do anything. Not even touch me.

  My hands shook, but I felt nothing as I pulled out of the lot. I drove without thinking, detached, as if the car were on autopilot, taking me to my destination without my help.

  Shock was a funny thing. It numbed you. Emptied you of emotion. But like any drug, you eventually came back down.

  That was when everything turned to shit. The trembles moved up my limbs, my chest constricting, trying to grab gulps of air. Trickles of terror fizzed up to the surface, piercing my consciousness.

  Small noises wheezed from my throat as I turned the car down a road where I pulled into the driveway and parked. Fumbling with my seatbelt, the tremors relocated violently through my whole body. My legs shook so badly when I got out of the car, I stumbled forward, tears blurring my vision. My brain understood this was a drastic reaction to what had happened, but m
y body wasn’t listening as the panic attack set in.

  My lungs couldn’t get enough air, my head spun. I barely made it to the front door, my hand going to the knob as I felt my legs dip, dropping me on the stoop with a thump. A guttural sound, like a wounded animal, rolled over my tongue with a cry.

  I folded up on myself, the noises hooking together in a chain of sobs.

  “Stevie?” I heard my name from a distance. “Holy. Fuck. Stevie…what happened? Are you hurt?”

  His voice felt like a slice of warmth and light in the cold blackness. I wanted more; I wanted to drown in it. I hadn’t even thought when my car headed here. A reflex. The need to feel safe. It was the only place I wanted to be.

  “Hey.” Chris’s arms wrapped around me as he knelt on the ground with me and pulled me into his chest. “Gyps, I’m here.” He rocked me, holding me tight.

  Hearing his pet name for me, burned more tears down my face. “Gypsy” was a song Stevie Nicks wrote when she was with Fleetwood Mac, and Chris always teased I was just like that, never able to stay in one spot for too long.

  Except right now.

  I never wanted to leave.

  Chapter Ten

  My lashes fluttered against the stream of morning light bleeding through the blinds, soft gray jersey-knit sheets wrapped me in a cocoon against the cool fan blowing air down on me. My head sank deep into the feather pillow.

  For one blissful moment, I felt whole. Happy. Still.

  Content.

  Then the memories of the night before crawled over me, stripping away my blissfulness like a banana peel. I remembered why I was waking up here.

  I glanced over my shoulder finding myself alone in the large bed. I knew I hadn’t fallen asleep by myself. Chris tried to get me to talk after my sobs quieted down, but exhaustion muted me, leaving me limp. I vaguely remembered him picking me up and carrying me to the bed, crawling in behind me. He pulled me tight against his body, wrapping himself protectively around me. Sleep was quick to devour me whole.

  Everything seemed almost dreamlike, hazy and blurred, my body shutting down, protecting itself.