by Melissa Blue
“Vic, baby, come here. You're safe with me. I'm safe.” She pushed off the wall, each step cautious because anything could thrust him deeper.
“Ash?” Confusion rippled over his features, his eyes so damn dark. “What are you doing here?”
Her heart thumped wild and hard. She was so scared for him, trembling with it. How in the hell did he cope with this by himself? She didn't doubt he could be dangerous, but he didn't talk about the terror he must have felt.
“You're in your living room.”
He glanced down at the remote in his hand, blinking rapidly. “Shit. Shit.”
Victor scuttled back, putting more space between them until his back hit the opposite wall. With his free hand, he tugged a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end in messy waves.
“How long was I gone?” He sounded scared. Angry.
Her chest constricted. “Vic, you're okay, and I'm okay.”
He crouched against the wall and braced his elbows on his knees, sucking in air. Her heart refused to slow. Never in all the time she'd known Victor had she seen him this shaken. Sweat dripped from his brow and every muscle seemed coiled. She stood still, not wanting to spook him even more as he leveled off from the spurt of adrenaline.
They just stood there breathing for a few minutes. Finally, he mumbled something—words she couldn't hear.
“What did you say?” She crossed the room to him but fisted her hands to keep from touching him. His limbs trembled. He still was crashing after a flashback and her touch might send him back over.
“Get out.” His voice was a gritty rasp. He dropped the remote to the floor and balled his hands. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Two feet of space separated them but suddenly, he felt miles away. He didn't want her around when he had a PTSD episode, that she knew. The words still hurt to hear.
“I'm not leaving you like this.”
He glanced up, his face a mask of hard, jagged lines. “I'm not asking. I'm not offering an escape. I don't want you here.”
“I'll call Oliver or Grady to come over if you need them, but Vic, I'm here.”
His jaw worked as he shook his head. “I don't want you anywhere near me anymore.”
Her heart threatened to break in a hundred little pieces. He meant those words. She knew where they were coming from—fear that he'd hurt her. He wanted to protect her from himself. Knowing his reasons didn't make the sting any less painful—didn't negate the fact that underneath it all, he didn't believe she could take care of both herself and him when he needed that.
She put steel in her words when she said, “If you held a gun and couldn't decipher the difference between your living room and Iraq, I would have barricaded myself in the bathroom. If I had woken up with your hands around my throat, I would have kicked you so hard in your balls you would have puked. Victor—”
“Get. Out. You apparently don't know when to leave when a man asks you to, but I guess you wouldn't. Isn't this your first real relationship? Don't you just usually fuck 'em and leave 'em?” His throat bobbed when he swallowed. “I don't want you here. It's that simple.”
The words left spikes in her lungs. They dug in with every inhalation. Still, she dragged in air and exhaled. He wasn't wrong, but he damn sure wasn't right. She had been in relationships that had, more often than not, ended abruptly, but she'd loved. She knew that emotion and how scary the feeling was. Sometimes it had made her lash out.
So she knew that was what Vic had chosen to do. “You don't have to do this.”
“Apparently I do.” His words were so cold they froze her blood.
“You,” the word wavered so she tried again, calmer, calm as fuck, “of all people, don't get to throw that at me.”
“What?”
“My past.”
“Tell me one time when you didn't treat me like I wasn't one your fuck boys. Was it when your brother asked you if you loved me and you didn't even answer? All the times you told me it was just sex between us?”
Ash pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the hit deep in her gut. Maybe if her brother hadn't broken her heart first, Ash would have been her usual stubborn self. She would have stayed to fight it out. She would have dug deeper into why he felt the need to kick her out in the middle of the night. She would have pointed out that their first real episode together had scared him more than he'd expected. She would have detailed every moment that proved he was so much more than a man she had sex with. She would have told him how much she wanted to stay with him.
But Vic's voice was arctic. He hadn't told her out loud he loved her. She'd assumed he did by his actions, but his words were cutting into the soft spots her brother had left behind.
She shook her head, tired—so damn tired of having to fight the men in her life. Of having to remind them that she could slay her own dragons.
“You guys taught me to be strong, how to ask for what I want without shame. How to throw a punch or the surefire way to unman any boy who didn't take no for an answer—a hard, swift kick to his nuts. You guys taught me to be unapologetic. Yet you keep pushing me into a pretty gilded cage for my own safety.”
“Ash, just go.” His voice cracked.
How could he not see what he was doing? Why couldn't he just trust her?
Ash bit her lip to hold back its tremble. “If you want me to go, I'll go. But if this is your way of protecting me, then when I leave, I'm never coming back. You and Porter have hurt me enough to last a lifetime. You guys taught me to never take that bullshit. And I'm not.”
He straightened, pressing his back against the wall. Vic's face showed no give. “I want you to leave.”
Had she been wrong? Was she reading more into his actions? Did Ash hope he loved her and this was his way of protecting her? Or was she encroaching on his space and didn't know when she'd worn out her welcome?
Her heart ached, seeming to know the truth but her head held her pride. She'd only beg for more in bed. She'd never plead outside it.
“Then fine. I'm leaving, Vic.”
She didn't wait to see his reaction. Ash stalked to his room, got dressed, and grabbed her overnight supplies.
He wanted her out of his life for whatever reasons. She wasn't going to hurt herself trying to figure them all out, or contort herself into knots to bring the truth to the light. He wanted her gone.
That was the end of it, of them. Fine. Maybe when she got home, she'd cry her soul out.
Okay. No maybe about it, especially when she told her friend. Iris would envelope her with warmth and love. Depending on how Ash talked about the experience, Victor would be a wounded saint or the devil incarnate. And if she wanted to sow seeds of dissent, she could talk to Eva. Eva would spill the tea with Grady. And Grady was solid. No matter how complicated the situation, right was right and wrong was wrong. But first, all Ash wanted to do was curl into her bed and wish the hurt away.
When she had all her things, she left his room.
He sat on the couch, his elbows braced on his knees once again. His gaze was wide and filled with pain as he glanced at her and then he looked back to the TV. He was pushing her away to save her. Or what he thought would be saving her.
Telling him his plan was a misguided and incredibly stupid way of protecting her would fall on death ears. So she left, and she felt like she'd left a piece of herself with him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
~Gamer Truth: Sometimes you need to get your teeth kicked in by a big, bad boss.~
Victor glanced up at the soft knock on his office door. His brows rose. “Wade? What are you doing here?”
His friend wore his glasses, a simple white collared shirt, khakis, and tennis shoes. Maybe for the first time in a long time, he looked like a scientist. He'd even tamed back his sandy brown hair. “Isn't this what Porter does? Check in unexpectedly to make sure you're not dancing in traffic in your underwear?”
If his friend had ever had any sensitivity training, it hadn't stuck. To be honest, though, they had
probably both failed that class.
Victor put a hand to his chest and sighed. “I'm touched.”
Wade spread his hands. “I love you, man. Also, you look like shit.”
Victor felt like it, too. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Haven't slept in two days.” Not since he'd told Ash to leave. He'd broken her heart and it had showed on her every feature, and that expression played like a loop in his head. Maybe for the first time since he'd come back home, he wished for his shitty nightmares. Those were a walk in a park in comparison.
“Ashley,” Wade guessed without too much trouble. “I wondered when you were going to fuck that up. Didn't take you long.”
He flinched at the hit of truth. Vic hated that he'd hurt her, but he could have done so much worse. “I had an episode,” he explained. “She was there.”
Wade strolled around the borrowed office and didn't say anything. Didn't have to. Victor pulled his attention back to work, his shoulders creeping up from the sudden note of tension in the room.
“You should marry her.”
And that abrupt advice was the end of work.
Victor glanced up and sat back in the chair. He pushed out a breath, and then managed to say, “Did you not just hear me? Do you want her hurt?”
“Buy her a tranq gun. Teach her how to use it. I don't think she'll have any problems shooting you with it. Ashley is...” Wade sighed and plopped into the chair across from him. “Take away her love of pink, the heels, and the boobs, and what you have left is a tomboy. We didn't let her flutter around unarmed.”
He didn't have an argument for that, because Wade was right. Still, he shook his head. “Even the most armed—”
“You're a chickenshit.” The similar phrase easily proved that Grady and Wade were brothers. “Just admit it. What was it? She didn't say I love you first? Or did you realize she was the woman you wanted to marry? Or did you forget to wear a condom once and you started thinking of little her-and-yous running around, tearing up the world? And that scared you. You spineless piece of shit. You hurt Ashley, and for what?” Wade slammed his hands on the desk, his eyes dark with anger.
Victor had to look away from the truth and anger his friend threw at him. “You can see I'm fine. You should go.”
Wade made an all-knowing scoff. “Is that what you did? Just shut her out?”
Victor balled his fists against the desk. “What's really pissing you off, Wade? Is it because she chose me?”
Wade nodded and crossed his arms. The words hit their mark. “I'm pissed you found someone who is willing to put up with your bullshit and you pushed her away. And Ashley is the best woman who could have ever loved you—who will ever love you like that. I don't know what your problem is, but get your head out of your ass soon or you’ll lose her forever.”
Anger slashed through Victor at the words, but his friend was right. Every single fucking word was spot on. “Or you'll do what? Be there in my place instead?”
“If she would take me,” Wade said without flinching, “but she won't. It's you, Vic. It's always been you.”
Victor wasn't sure if that was said to bait him into a fight or if it were true. He narrowed his eyes, but Wade showed no sign of backing down. Hell, Wade probably did love Ashley. She was the only person he was nice to.
“Don't,” is all Victor said.
He felt bad enough as was, drained from self-doubt. Had he done the right thing by pushing her away? Could they make it work? Too much seemed to rely on whether or not he was willing to test her strength.
Logically, he knew she could be his backbone when he couldn't stand straight. Hadn't she shown that all her life? She'd joked about having four brothers—Vic had never been one, not even in a figurative sense—who sometimes were overzealous, but it was truth. She’d also carved out a life despite their meddling. She'd walked away from him when he’d thrown her past in her face and refused to acknowledge her mettle. She’d shown all the backbone he could ever need.
Shit, for her to walk away without pointing out all the women he'd dated over the years, plus her brother and the Goon Squad put together, must have taken a gargantuan effort. But he'd been desperate and willing to use everything in his arsenal to get her to leave.
It was just the thought—the simmer of fear burning in his gut—that he'd somehow, with all his baggage, diminish her light. That was enough to make him believe he was in the right for doing and saying what he had.
“So you're going to fix this?” Wade’s words broke into Victor’s thoughts.
Victor tugged a hand through his hair and cussed. Did it again and again until the sharp stab in his chest relented. He looked to Wade who only shook his head.
“How?” Victor asked, his voice low, raw.
“Hell if I know. I'm single. You should probably ask Grady. Or Oliver.” Wade rose, sighing like an old man. “Do you need me to stay the night at your place?”
Three days without sleep would put Victor in a danger zone. “Yeah. I'll pick up dinner.”
“Buy a ring while you're at it. I'm pretty sure that could help you, you idjit.”
Wade left, probably on his way to Ash's office. Victor balled his fists again at the thought. He could have her hurt her. A nightmare had pulled him from sleep and his first instinct had been to grab his gun. Ash had been there though. She didn't need to wake up to him wild-eyed and wielding a Glock. So he'd gone to the living room and had found something mindless to watch. Unfortunately, it’d turned out to be a military movie with guns blazing and bombs going off. That had been all he needed to get sucked into a flashback.
Victor was right in forcing her to walk away. He was keeping her safe, even if that meant from him. His own heart was aching but he could live with that. And she'd get over him eventually. Him, though, he'd tried every method to get over her and none had ever worked.
*****
Ash didn't leave for work until 5:30. She wasn't actively avoiding Vic, but if she didn't run into him, in her book, that wouldn’t have been a problem. She was cranky, anyway. She hadn't slept for two damn days. Her bed was too empty at night, and without being snuggled next to Vic, her bed felt too cold.
“What a bastard,” she muttered darkly.
Movement at her car caught her eye and she stopped. Porter lounged against her vehicle like he hadn't been the first one to rip out her heart.
She so wasn't in the mood. Ash waltzed right past him to the door, unlocked it, and folded herself into her car. He stuck his hand out to keep her from slamming the door shut.
Ash almost growled at him. “You're lucky I love you or you would have drawn back a nub.”
He held her gaze. She knew the words before he spoke them. “I'm sorry.”
Too annoyed, pissed, and hurt to take the words to heart, she grunted. “Apology not accepted. Move so I can leave.”
He lifted one hand, palm up as if to ask for a chance. “What I said—”
She tugged on the door. Nope. “What you said hurt me in the most profound way, so an apology isn't enough.” The damn thing didn't budge. She glared at it, then him. “Move or I might change my mind about slamming your fingers in the door.”
He winced. “Five minutes. That's all I'm asking for.”
She glanced out the windshield. He wouldn't go away until he had his say, and he was her brother. Even in forty years, that fact would remain the same. Porter was her brother. She could give him some leeway if she felt charitable.
“Two minutes. Love or not, you're losing some fingers today if you go for three.”
He squatted so they were eye level, resting his forearms on his thighs, his hands pressed together. “I'm a shit.”
“But why...” She had to stop because the words wobbled.
“There's no excuse good enough in this world. I just—”
“You wanted to hurt me.” She threw her purse in the passenger seat. “What happened between Vic and me had nothing to do with you. I know how that sounds, but it's the truth. The only reason we
hadn't...sooner…was because we didn't want to hurt you.”
“I know, Ashley. But when he came back…” He hesitated, looking like he didn't want to finish the sentence. “Victor wasn't right. I was trying to keep you safe. And he knew how fucked up he was and still—”
Oh, God, how those words just twisted the knife lodged in her heart. “We're over, Porter. He thinks just like you. That should give you comfort. Your two minutes are up.”
He strong-armed her door. “What?”
The question was sharp enough to waylay her impulse to slam it on him. “He had an episode and broke up with me over it. So, we're done.” She kept her voice even. Yeah. Her heart ached and probably would always ache, but she was done letting the men around her make her cry.
He reached up and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Want me to beat him up for you?”
Dammit. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Why did he have to sound just like Vic in that moment? “You guys are best friends and will be friends until the end of time. I'm the blip. So go make up with him and just leave me out of it.”
Porter laughed and shook his head. “He loves you and you love him. So you go make up with him.”
Her sight went blurry. “I don't love him.”
“Maybe you have him believing that, but I know better.” His gaze went over her face, and he huffed out a short laugh. “Maybe you haven't even admitted that truth to yourself yet, but I know this face. You were hurt by what I said about you, but you were way more pissed over what I said about Victor. I could see it. If you'd stuck around long enough, I would have apologized then. But you always did love a good flounce.”
She bit her lip, refusing to laugh at his last sentence. “You didn't call to say it, so your good intentions were just paving the road to hell.”
His mouth tightened. “What could I say?”
“You could have apologized...then I would have thrown it back at you.”