Charity For Nothing: The Virtues Book III

by A. J. Downey

  “What would you know?” I demanded and she raised her eyebrows at me.

  “Let’s see, I know that you’re sick and tired of hurting, for one.”

  “Yeah, how do you figure that?” I challenged, and she kissed me. Fuck, I couldn’t not kiss her back and I winced knowing that after a night of hard drinking, I probably tasted like ass.

  She drew back and I was throbbing where I was pressed against her heat through our clothes. She rested her forehead on mine and I closed my eyes and just basked in her soothing presence.

  Someone once told me that it takes a special woman to soothe away all the rage and pain. If that was the case, Charity was definitely something special.

  “Come on, they’re waiting for us,” she whispered and I nodded, our foreheads still together, that healing aura of hers working it’s magic. I let myself savor it for just a moment longer before I gently gripped her upper arms to move her back off me. She sucked in a sharp breath and I froze.

  Her eyes were a little wide and I cocked my head, “What was that for?”

  “Nothing,” she clearly, lied. She wore a light hoodie, long sleeves, in the muggy heat of Florida? I didn’t think so. I pushed it off her shoulders and sighed at the ring of bruises on her upper arms.

  “Fuck, Charity. I told you, you need to get –“ she put her fingertips to my lips, and shook her head.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Remember that,” she said, steel in her voice.

  “Get off me,” I said and she arched a delicate brow, we stared in a proverbial stand of until I exhaled sharply. “Get off me, please.”

  She moved off my lap and I had to adjust myself. She smirked and handed me the coffee again. “Shower, and let’s get a move on. Yours isn’t the only house that needs attention.”

  “Mm,” I uttered around the first slug of lukewarm coffee. A sugar free vanilla late. She’d remembered. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, pulling on the back of my head to ease the tension in my neck and between my shoulders. I was finding it difficult to concentrate and had to believe it was because I still might be drunk.

  “Did I just earn points?” she asked, her voice breaking through the fog like the sun. I looked up at her, an easy smile painting her lips that I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at mine. She made it hard to wallow, made it hard to stay a miserable bastard.

  “Maybe you did, but just a couple of ‘em,” I conceded.

  “I’ll take what I can get,” she said, rolling her eyes, and just like that, the atmosphere eased, became something more bearable for the moment; almost friendly. She had a way about her. I wanted to pull my anger and my hurt around me like a cloak, but around Charity, it was next to impossible. She just had that way about her. It was easy to lay down the hurt, and it seemed that no matter how much I tried to drive her away, to protect her, she just came gravitating back with a stubborn set to her chin that reminded me a whole lot of her sister Hope.

  I went and took a shower, when I came back to the bedroom, clothes had been laid out for me and Charity stood leaning against one wall, her shoulder pressed neatly to its painted surface, her arms cradling her breasts, one foot planted firm, the other crossed in front, toe of her Keds canvas sneaker resting on the hardwood.

  She was model perfect, and my dick stirred just looking at her. I had the feeling she felt the same, given the way her eyes roamed my body, lingering where the towel was slung low on my hips.

  “A little privacy?” I asked.

  “You sure? Because last night we got pretty intimate,” she said with a wink.

  “I know, and it was a mistake,” I said. A glint of hurt flashed in the depths of her eyes but she covered it with an easy smile.

  “Well, I don’t regret a thing,” she said softly, pushing off the wall and making easy strides. I caught her sleeve between thumb and forefinger and she looked up at me.

  “This is a dangerous game,” I murmured.

  “Doesn’t have to be, Nothing. You’re the one making it that way, so why don’t you just stop?”

  Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, I mean, I hadn’t quite thought of it that way but at the same time, “It’s not that simple, Charity.”

  “Why not? The only one I see complicating things, is you.”

  “Just what do you want from me, anyways?” I demanded, scowling. This was getting uncomfortable for me.

  She stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment, “I want you to stop acting like a dick and start using your dick,” she said and I scoffed, incredulously. “Let me ask you something,” she said, before I could recover.

  “What?”

  “Does it feel good?”

  “What?”

  She gave me a look, like ‘don’t be stupid,’ “Do you seriously want me to get into the gory details?” she demanded.

  “No, I mean yes, it feels good; it feels really good when I’m with you.” She had me off kilter and she knew it, but I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to get at through my fog of a hangover.

  “Okay, then. Fuck me, use me, do whatever you want as long as you keep the orgasms coming,” she fucking winked at me while I stared at her slack jawed. “We’ll figure out the rest as we go along, because let’s face it, if it’s one thing we’ve figured out, we’re good together when we’re in the sack. It’s probably the one uncomplicated thing about us.”

  I laughed incredulously, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Serious as a fucking heart attack over here,” she said. “Now get dressed,” she slapped me on the ass as she went by and I jumped, grabbing for the towel that was coming unhooked at my hip.

  I thought to myself, did she just tear a page out of fucking Hope’s playbook or what?

  Chapter 21

  Charity

  My body very nearly hummed with how anxious I was. I had Nothing off base, for sure, which was my goal. I mean, really, the only thing I’d accomplished was talking faster than Nothing could think, given his hung over state. I stepped out his garage door which was just finishing trundling up its track and walked out into the bright sunshine.

  “Did it work?” Hope asked and I gave a one shouldered shrug.

  “We’ll see.”

  Cutter and Pyro exchanged a look and Pyro said, “I’m not sure if I feel bad for Nothing or if I’m cheering for him.”

  “I’m thinkin’ a little of both,” Cutter winked at me and I rolled my eyes.

  The rest of the guys were already at work cleaning up the yard, and I looked around. Flowerbeds were weed choked and overgrown, bordering the walkways and beneath the boarded up windows. Some of the guys were already in the garage opening up what appeared to be packages of replacement shingles against one wall.

  I looked over at Faith, “Fancy planting some flowers with me?” I asked and she lit up, smiling. There were a lot of smiles and the sound of industry filled Nothing’s small side street as we all picked up something to do and got to work.

  It was a long day, but a satisfying one. By the end of it, Nothing’s roof had been repaired, as had his small front stoop. The shutters he had piled off to the other side of the garage, that he’d never gotten around to installing, had been put up, and the paint in places on the outside of his house had been refreshed. The weeds had all been pulled, but most importantly, Hope had led the charge indoors and every floor had been swept, every picture frame and piece of furniture had been dusted and, thanks to the power coming back on, all of the bedding and curtains had been laundered.

  She’d taken charge of the indoor operations with Pyro’s girl and Hossler, while Faith and I had brought the flowerbeds in line. There was one, lonely little circular bed in the front that had nothing growing in it. I’d gone to Nothing and had touched his shoulder. He’d jumped and turned to look at me, expression grave. He was sweating, in the heat and from his efforts to clear a fallen tree in his back yard.

  “What was in the round flowerbed in the front yard?” I asked.

  “Nothing,
it died. Just leave it alone.”

  “Do you mind if I plant something in it?”

  “Yes, just leave it alone, please.”

  I sighed and put my arms around his waist and looked up at him until he capitulated, his eyes closing, “It was a lemon tree. Corrine and I planted it when we found out she was pregnant, it was supposed to be so she and Katy could make lemonade, for a lemonade stand on the corner when Katy got old enough. A drunk took it out last year with his truck while I was out on a run with the guys. I just haven’t replaced it.”

  I went up on tiptoe and gave Nothing a quick, soft kiss. “Thank you,” I said and he frowned.

  “For what?”

  “Sharing that with me, I know it was hard.”

  Some of the tension drained out of him and he sighed, nodding. I left him and went back around front. Faith was waiting for me and she asked, “What’d he say?” I got close to her before I told her, repeating what Nothing had told me. She stared at my face intently for a long minute and chewed her bottom lip. She pulled out her cellphone from the back pocket of her shorts and said, “Give me a minute,” before wandering to the curb and making a call. I shrugged and went back to work.

  She came back and I asked, “What was that for?”

  “I called a friend and asked him a really big favor,” she said and I raised my eyebrows, pushing my new sunglasses that Hope had bought for me, up my nose.

  “What kind of favor, and who’s this friend?”

  “Bobby, he’s a friend of Marlin’s. He has an orange grove about an hour away.”

  “Okay, but what does that have to do with anything.”

  She rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might have glimpsed gray matter, “He doesn’t just grow oranges, silly. Orange grove is a misnomer, it really should be called a ‘citrus grove,’ he grows limes and lemons too. I asked him for a tree.”

  “You did what?” I asked, blinking.

  “He grows them for plant nurseries, so why not?” she asked.

  “Big sister, I could kiss you,” I said and she blushed.

  “It’s not that big of a deal, I like Nothing… he helped get me better. I’d like to help him get better, too.”

  I hugged the crap out of Faith and whispered, “You’re the best sister anyone could ever ask for.”

  “Thanks,” she said softly and hugged me back just as tight.

  We ended up just working on Nothing’s house. There was so much that’d fallen into disrepair that it needed the attention. Even his brothers seemed surprised at how much the house needed done. It was worth it, though. By the time we were through, it looked like one of the nicest houses on the block. It was amazing what you could accomplish when you had an entire team of people working together.

  Nothing and I hadn’t seen much of each other throughout the day, and when I found him again, it was him standing in his kitchen, a bottle of water in his hand and a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Hey,” I murmured.

  He shook himself, like a dog coming out of water and his gaze focused on me, a mask falling into place, shuttered, guarded.

  “Hey,” he said simply and I sighed inwardly, steeling myself for the rejection I just knew was coming.

  “Place looks great,” I said.

  “Yeah, got a lot of stuff done that Corrine wanted,” he said and looked at the bottle of half empty water in his hands. “Kind of wish I’d done it while she could appreciate it,” he said, punctuating the statement with a heavy sigh.

  “Yeah, I get that.” Silence ensued and it held that oppressive weight, the feel of an impending storm, only instead of thunder and rain, I pictured yelling and tears.

  Here we go, I thought. Radar was right; I should have given him space…

  “Listen, Charity…” I perked up and waited for the hammer to drop, thinking to myself, just get it over with. “I really like you, but I really can’t do this. It’s…”

  “It’s not you, it’s me? I’m sorry I was weak? Let’s just be friends?” I asked, my tone was sharper, more sarcastic than I’d meant it to come out, but I was surprised at just how much I found that this inevitable speech was hurting. Bewildered at just how much I’d emotionally invested in Nothing in such a short time.

  “Pretty much all of those things,” he said quietly.

  “I really want to help you,” I said.

  “I know that, but I’m not one of your patients, and I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” I murmured and stared up at the ceiling, tears pricking the backs of my eyes.

  “Yes, I am. You’re a beautiful girl, and any man would be lucky to have you –“

  “Really? Well what about you?”

  “I’m just not that guy,” he said with a shitty half assed shrug.

  “Do you think you’re being noble right now, Galahad?” his head snapped up and his gray eyes flashed with anger.

  “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “That’s not my name anymore.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not,” I uttered, then heaved a big sigh. “Strike three, you’re out. Have fun being miserable, Nothing. I’m just not on board anymore. I can’t be the only one trying here. Things just don’t work that way.”

  I turned and walked out of the kitchen, through the open space of the living room, and out into the bright sunlight. I didn’t know what sucked more, the total sense of failure, or the fact that despite all of his asshattery, I still really liked Nothing. I felt like we vibed on the same frequency, or whatever, in those rare moments when he wasn’t letting his grief be all consuming.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if I was giving up too easily, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was saving myself a lot of heartache in the long run. I got in my Jeep and drove off, the few remaining guys loitering around Nothing’s place eying me with sympathy. Radar’s face flat and unreadable except for the slight nod he gave in my direction. I wondered vaguely if they’d heard the exchange, but couldn’t bring myself to care. Might as well make my humiliation complete on that front, eh?

  Chapter 22

  Nothing

  I stood in my kitchen, everyone gone, and stood at the counter that I’d bent Charity over what seemed like forever ago, but shit, must’ve only been a few days gone now. A fresh bottle of Jim Beam rested within reach, an empty whiskey glass next to it but I just wasn’t feeling it. I felt shitty, I really did and decided I needed to shelve the fucking bottle this time.

  Still, that didn’t mean I wanted to stay sober tonight, so I busted out my stash of weed instead, rolling a joint. I’d never been good at it, Corrine though, she’d gotten pretty decent at it. I went out back and dropped into one of the wooden patio lounge chairs, propping my feet up. It was peaceful, the crickets and frogs starting their serenade, the smell of fresh cut grass filling the air. I stuck the joint in my mouth and lit up, sucking in a lungful of green, sticky smoke and holding it until my lungs screamed and the mellow effects rolled out from my center.

  I turned my head up and back when the screen slid back, Cutter coming out to join me. I frowned, “Back again, Cap?”

  “Figured it was time you and I had a talk, man.”

  I nodded, figuring that I was about to have my ass set straight, but honestly, I had no clue what the Captain was gonna say. You never did when it was Cutter. He dropped into Corrine’s lounge chair and set a six pack of cheap beer between us. I passed him the joint.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking a hit and propping his booted feet up.

  “Come to tell me I’m bein’ an idiot?” I asked.

  “Of the highest order,” he said, voice strained as he held his breath. He exhaled sharply and passed me back the weed. I took another hit and pinched off the cherry, figuring the tongue lashing I was about to get was gonna be epic.

  Cutter pulled a beer from the pack and twisted the cap off the amber bottle, he leaned back again, crossing his booted ankles, frayed denim against worn lea
ther. He’d ridden over here.

  “Let’s have it,” I said.

  “I think it’s time,” he said, “to set the record straight.”

  I frowned and leaned my head back against the back of my chair, rolling it over to look at him, “What d’ you mean?”

  “We’ve been waiting a real long damn time for you to show any fuckin’ signs of waking the fuck up out of this,” he gestured with his beer, “whatever the fuck it is.”

  “Grief?” I supplied, and he gave me a flat, stone cold look like I was the biggest fuckin’ tool.

  “Whatever you’ve been doin’ to yourself these last few years? The word ‘grief’ ain’t even come close to covering it, neither does wallowing, whatever you been doing, they ain’t got a name for, Dom.”

  Oh shit, he used my real name… I sobered almost instantly, “You stripping my patch?” I asked and he frowned.

  “Hell fuckin’ no! Once a brother, always a brother, lame ass. Point I’m trying to make is you lost your wife and baby girl, and ain’t none of that your fucking fault.” He raised his hand when I opened my mouth to protest and barked, “Shut it! I’m talking now, and you’ve had your fuckin’ turn. You’ve had your fuckin’ turn for three goin’ on four fuckin’ years now. Now it’s my turn. You feel me?”

  I shut my fuckin’ mouth and swept out a hand in the classic ‘after you’ gesture and he nodded once, curtly.

  “This back and forth you got going with Charity –“

  “That’s done now,” I interjected, shifting uncomfortably.

  “The fuck it is, I see it written all over your face. You forget I’m fuckin’ her sister? I know how addictive these women are. Hell, don’t believe me, just ask Marlin.

  “I don’t have to,” I grumbled.

  “That’s my point, Dom. You’ve got Corrine put on this pedestal so fuckin’ high ain’t no mortal woman down here on the ground ever gonna compare, and its fuckin’ bullshit.”