by J. M. Adele
Clipping her seat belt, she held on to her composure by a fingernail, until she saw Grey bolt out the door, hands flying up to grip the sides of his head as he watched the car pull away. Unable to hold it any longer, tears gushed down her face, an ungodly noise barreling from her mouth. She folded over, wracked with pain as her heart ripped from her chest, landing on the sidewalk, still caught in his lasso.
She didn’t need men.
She just needed him.
You Will Never Be Her
Holy fucking hell, what just happened?
Grey shuffled back into his apartment, closing the door behind him with a click.
“You didn’t catch her?”
“Obviously, Lory, or he’d be kicking us out so they could make up.” Antonio scrubbed a hand over his buzz cut, jaw stretching wide with a yawn.
Frozen solid and numb, Grey just stared at the worn carpet under his bare feet.
“Hey. Come and sit before you fall over.” Lory carefully herded him onto a chair, patting him on the shoulder.
His brother had the cheek to grin. “Oh, man, you’re so sunk I’m surprised you’re not fixin’ to rent a tuxedo.”
“Toni! Not now. Have a little compassion.”
Antonio tugged on Lory’s hand, guiding her to sit on his lap. “Sorry, sugar. But I know exactly how he feels. It’s different seeing it from the other side, huh, Grey?”
Grey watched his brother’s mouth move, but his words were white noise, on a different frequency to where he was tuned. Incomprehension, shock, and now anger, brewed one hell of a storm.
Why the fuck did she run without letting him speak? All he had to do was pull back the curtain so she could see his brother out cold in the bed, and the camping cot wedged next to the bathroom, where Grey was bunking for the night. She didn’t fucking trust him enough to even let him explain.
Yes, the ring box was his. Lory was returning the engagement ring he’d bought her. It was worth a wad, and she reckoned he’d be needing to pawn it off for some cash one day. There was no point in her having it anymore. And Antonio said he wanted it out of his sight. Understandable. Now, he zeroed in on the thing, wanting to sling it down the street after the taxi. Who knew that trying to keep everybody happy would come back to bite him on the ass repeatedly?
“I have to go after her.” He launched to his feet, heading for his keys.
Lory heaved herself up, belly first, pushing off the table as Antonio helped her. “Don’t, Grey. You shouldn’t drive when you’re worked up like this. Toni, go with your brother.”
Grey dialed Chelsea’s cell while his guests debated what he should do to stop his life from derailing.
“Your call could not be connected. Please try again later.”
Pulling the phone from his ear, he scowled at the screen.
Toni spoke through another yawn. “Shouldn’t he let her calm down a bit first? That’s what he told me to do when you ran off to Boston.”
Lory’s head cranked around to face Grey. “Right. She’s not going to listen to you. Maybe wait until morning?”
Shaking his head, he bent over his phone, dialing her number. She’d turned off her phone, damn it. Glaring daggers, Grey punched in a text message.
Her name is Lory. She’s my EX-fiancée and is engaged to my brother. It’s his baby.
He had to try.
Eyeballing his family, he clenched his keys in one hand and the phone in the other. “Thanks for your help, but I’m going. Get some sleep. Sorry I woke you.”
In a rush, he was out the door again, breaking the speed limit to get to her place, and shoving past a bleary-eyed Ryan as he answered Grey’s rude awakening.
He made it to the kitchen before Ryan pressed a palm to his chest.
“Whoa. Dude, what are you doing busting into the house in the middle of the night?”
“Where is she?”
“Who? Chelsea?”
Stony faced, Grey honed in on the jackass getting up in his grill, daring him to leave his hand where it was.
Ryan got the picture and snatched it away, putting an extra foot of space between them. “She’s not here.”
“I’d rather see for myself.” Stepping around Ryan, Grey took the stairs three at a time and stalked to the end of the hallway.
Pushing through the door, his chest burned when he saw an empty room. She’d discarded her bag on the floor beside the desk, still packed full of her books. Dirty clothes clogged the corner near the hamper, and one closet door stood ajar, an empty hanger hooked over its handle.
Damn it. Where is she?
Like a fucking madman, he stomped to the bathroom, checking that she wasn’t hiding. Light spilled through Ryan’s door, left open from his dash down to let Grey in before he woke the entire street. That ruled that out. Not that he thought for one second that she’d be in there.
Ryan appeared on the landing. “She hasn’t come home. I told you. What have you done? Is she hurt?”
Grey ignored him, continuing his search. The poster of a woman in a yoga pose clued him in to which room was Hannah’s. He didn’t bother opening her door. Deep in his gut, he knew Chelsea wasn’t anywhere in the house. He didn’t feel the pull in his blood, giving him that zap of energy whenever she was near.
“Did you guys split?” Ryan’s tone held a little too much glee.
Beyond the final door, he assumed Dakota was asleep. Grey wanted to bang on that wood about as much as he wanted a brick to the head, but if she had any information on Chelsea, he needed to pluck it from her mind and squirrel it away for his own selfish needs.
He rapped a knuckle on the door, and balled his hands, beginning a mental countdown as he pictured himself bashing the barrier down. He made it to two before the door swung wide, and Dakota draped herself on the frame.
“Grey!”
His eyes narrowed to slits, not only because of her enthusiasm, but because of what she was rubbing in his face. He counted for an extra two seconds to pull back some ‘what the fuck?’ before speaking.
“Where is Chelsea?”
Dee’s smile faded as she tossed her head. “I haven’t seen her for days.” Letting go of the frame, she struck a pose, showing off the blue and white striped socks she was wearing. “You like? She didn’t want them anymore so she gave them to me.”
Bullshit. “Has she called? Sent a text? Anything?”
“Aw, has she given you the flick?” Pouting her bottom lip, she latched on to the door frame again, nudging closer. “It was only a matter of time. She does it with all the guys. Don’t be upset. It’s not you, it’s her.”
He scowled, dropped to his haunches, and ripped the socks from her legs. If she hadn’t had a grip on something she’d have toppled over.
Hauling his ass up, he shoved the socks under her nose. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you will never be her. Jealousy looks ugly on you, Dee.” Eyes straying over her shoulder, he spotted a photo, stiffening in rage.
Charging across the threshold, he snagged the picture, studying the way the two halves were taped together. Hannah and Greyson were on the left of the divide, Dakota and Ryan on the right, all dressed up for Halloween. Chelsea was absent, sliced out of existence.
He spun around, fighting back the need to roar. The Wicked Witch of the West lived and breathed in Allston.
A perplexed Ryan had heard it all. “Was that you that put Chelsea’s socks in my room?”
Her eyes flickered with guilt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Have you been trying to get rid of her?” Ryan leaned against the wall, his arms hanging loose. “You know, Dee, I’ve had it with your two faces. Pack your shit.”
Butting in to their tiff, Grey snapped at Ryan. “Call me if she shows up.”
“Why the hell should I help you?”
“Because I know you care for Chelsea, and you want her to be happy, even if it’s not with you. Isn’t that right?” he challenged, knowing Ryan only gave a crap about hi
mself.
“Whatever. Just leave already.”
Greyson’s boots pounded on the steps as he growled at all the time he’d wasted with the narcissist twins. Wracking his brain for ideas on where she might be, his stomach hollowed out at the only answer he got.
If he wanted to chase her, he had a fucking long trip ahead.
_____
“Have some coffee.” Jenna placed a warm mug in Chelsea’s hands while Hannah rubbed soothing circles on her blanket covered back.
Gripped by uncontrollable shivers, Chelsea gratefully accepted the offer. Taking a gulp, she spluttered as the burn trekked down her esophagus. “Shit! How do you call that coffee?”
Jenna propped her backside on the arm of the sofa. “I may have added alcohol. It’ll help warm you up.”
Chelsea wrapped a hand around her neck, eyes watering. “My throat is on fire.”
“Excellent. If you see him, you can blow it in his face.” Hannah grinned.
Her brow bunched, thinking of that diamond ring. “So stupid. So fucking stupid to trust a man.” Turning her face up to her friends, she grimaced. “Did I mention she was pregnant?”
“A few times, yes.” Jenna placed a hand under the mug, lifting it back to Chelsea’s lips. “Drink some more.”
She knew this was a bad idea. It never helped. Drowning her sorrows in alcohol only plunged her deeper into her shit. Dropping her gaze to the hot drink, she shrugged through another shiver, and tipped more spirits into her system. Fuck it. She was in a wallowing kind of mood.
“Why can’t I stop shakin’?”
Jenna opted to give a scientific rundown, keeping a tight hold on her own emotions. “It’s called an adrenaline rush. You perceived a threat and your body responded with the fight or flight reflex. You chose to flee.”
Chelsea snorted. “Why couldn’t you have said, ‘because your boyfriend’s an asshole’? See? I feel better hearing it.” Glancing at Hannah, Chelsea added, “If both of us gang up on Jenna, she might loosen up and let her hair down.”
“She lets her hair down with me in private. He’s lucky you didn’t pick the fight reflex, because he’d have come off second best. I’d be happy to pay them a visit if you want. I know you’d do it for me.”
“You are a woman after my own heart, but no, thank you. There is one thing you can do for me.”
“Name it.”
She handed the mug back to Jenna, already feeling her stomach turn and her legs start to numb with the effects. “Could y’all help me pack up my room and get out of here?”
“What about work? You had another two weeks until you were supposed to leave.” Jenna’s face paled.
Oh, shit. She’d forgotten about the job offer. Matteo wasn’t going to be happy. He’d be furious with his nephew—son—whatever, when he found out why she ran. Abandoning him went against every one of her moral fibers. She felt the sting of them shriveling at the thought. But how the hell could she possibly wait and train her successor, with Grey working next door? She wouldn’t compromise her sanity for any Agrioli man. She’d get Jenna to drop in all the information she’d gathered. It was all laid out and categorized in logical order, so anyone could figure it out easily and take it from there.
“I can’t.” Choking back a sob, she coughed and managed to swallow after a couple of attempts. “I’m going to miss y’all terribly, but I can’t stay. I need to follow through on a promise I made years ago. It’s what I’ve been workin’ towards. I lost sight of that, but now it’s back in focus. It’s where I’m meant to be.”
“We’ll do whatever you need, hun.”
Her face crumbled as she dissolved into more tears, crying for what she had lost. Her friends engulfed her in a group hug, giving her strength to get through what she had to do next. Chelsea squeezed them back, thanking the heavens for sending her more angels than she deserved.
_____
“So, that’s it? You’re moving out?”
Stacking a few more books into a box, she closed it up, the rip of the tape gun declaring it sealed. “I am. I was only supposed to stay until graduation anyway, Ryan. You knew that. That’s what I signed up for.”
He tucked his hands into his armpits, mouth turned down as he shuffled his feet. “Yeah, but I thought you’d changed your plans.”
“No, honey. I’m goin’ home. Why are you so upset?”
“I thought Greyson and Dakota were driving you away. I didn’t touch your socks, I swear.”
“What in the Sam Hill are you talkin’ about?”
“Greyson came looking for you last night.” Ryan pointed up and down the hallway. “He was tearing through the place, didn’t believe me when I said you weren’t here. Did he hurt you? Is that why you’re leaving?”
She paused, stomach rolling as she was buffeted by an emotional storm. What had he hoped to achieve by chasing her? How did blondie feel about him running after his girlfriend? Maybe he hadn’t hurt her physically. But emotionally, he’d crushed her. Not that she would ever breathe a word to Ryan.
“No.”
“Is it because of Dakota’s sick games? She came out of her room wearing those butt ugly socks you love so much, claiming you’d given them to her. I figured maybe you thought I’d taken them.”
Her eyes levered wide, unsure that she’d heard him correctly. “She wore my witch socks?”
“Witch? Oh, that explains the ugly stripes.”
“What did Grey do?”
“He tore them off her legs.”
Good. Nobody touched her fuck socks. Chelsea fumed. Dakota was in a heap of trouble.
“Where’s Dee?”
“I kicked her out. She’s been playing me this whole time. I found out she slept with four other guys while we were together, including Cameron. That’s not all. Grey found a photo that she’d sliced, cutting you out. I guess she’s just not happy unless she’s the center of attention.”
Abandoning the packing, Chelsea aimed for the room next door, ready to tear it apart if need be. “Has she packed up all her stuff? I need to search her room.”
“Go for it. She hasn’t been back to collect it yet.”
Rifling through the closet, she found several items of clothing Dee had ‘borrowed’ from her. That was no surprise. The photo Ryan mentioned lay discarded on the floor. And in the trashcan, several more versions of herself in print. Her own exclusive cutting room floor. More disturbingly, they were accompanied by a name and phone number hastily scribbled on a scrap of paper.
Her father’s name and number.
It all made sense now.
He had gone to find her at the restaurant.
Or maybe Dakota had found him. He’d probably paid her a fortune to keep quiet.
Jesus. You never truly knew a person, even when you lived together.
The last drop of her sanity drained as she let the paper flutter back into the trash.
She needed to curl into a ball and cry for a week.
She needed to go home.
Sweet Home
“Honey, I appreciate your concern, but if you mention that name again, I’m gonna march your ass out the door. I seriously don’t want to talk about him, so quit your prying and help me choose the layout for the shop. Mama can’t decide.”
She didn’t know why she’d been able to spill the details of Gre—his betrayal to Hannah and Jenna, only to clamp down on her tongue when she arrived home. Maybe it was because Chelsea had left Boston behind, and that included Gre—him. Alabama won the fight, hands down. She just wanted to start fresh, move on, and ignore the constant hollow agony she carried behind her ribcage.
Angel joined her as they moved through the abandoned shop that used to be Mama Berry’s BBQ, stepping over loose carpet tiles and rubbish scattered on the floor. Charcoaled grease and hickory sauce exuded its odor from where it had seeped into the building’s pores. The place needed a good blasting with a steam cleaner.
“You don’t have to bite my head off. I’m just worried about you. A
nd so is your mama.”
Chelsea opened one of the ovens, snapping it shut when the stench almost knocked her on her ass. Skipping back a couple of steps, she waved a hand in front of her face. “Did she put you up to this? It’s not like you to push.”
Arms akimbo, Angel looked about ready to pitch a fit. “Maybe you need pushing. You’re working eighteen-hour days. Your clothes are hangin’ off you. And Mary said she heard you pacing the floor in the middle of the night.” Angel clapped her hands together, pleading for Chelsea to listen. “You can’t keep up the hard-boiled act because one day your shell is going to crack, and you’ll find out your insides aren’t so tough after all. It’s gonna be messy. And honey, you know what I went through because you were there for me. I’m just returning the favor.”
“I know what you’re doin’, but your situation was a bit different. You were pregnant, for one.”
Her throat grew tight and her hand involuntarily covered her abdomen as deja-vu hit her.
She recalled befriending a devastated Angel as she’d grown huge with child, and had no idea where the father was, or even if he was okay. Not long before that, Chelsea had lost her own baby, but at that time, it had been a blessing.
Racing forward in time to blondie with the swollen belly, and again, Chelsea’s womb was empty, after possibly losing a baby. She didn’t even know if she’d been pregnant with Gr—his child. She cursed herself for not doing a test. But, it was probably better not to know.
But the look on his face when he’d covered her stomach, and told her he wanted her to have his name, had struck so deep it stopped her heart.
Now ... that would never happen.
Get over it. Move on. Keep busy. Her walls were rebuilding brick by brick. Mantra by mantra.
“And your man wasn’t already hooked up with someone else. I need to deal with this in my own way. Just leave me be. I’ll holler if I need you. I promise.”
“Be sure you do. I don’t want to have to organize an intervention.” Dropping her arms, Angel motioned to the windows streaked with dirt, and still advertising the old restaurant. “And the counter should go to the side, where there’s more light. You want the reading space to be cozy with warm lighting, and the counter space to be brighter. It also fits in with the access to the kitchen better, I think.”