Retreat
Page 3
I stay put in the chair, one hand wrapped around the whiskey glass, the other resting on my bent knee. “Why are you here?”
“When did you get a deck?”
Avoidance. Nice. “I built it a few months ago.”
Her eyebrows draw together in surprise as she takes another step closer. I see she’s wearing white Converse high-tops. “You built it?”
“Yeah, had to give my liver a break.” I say that as I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip of the soothing liquid.
Her eyes dart to my glass, concern filling her pretty face. “Didn’t know you were that handy.”
“My dad was in construction. I spent a lot of summers doing home additions and decks growing up.”
She carefully takes the three wooden steps up to join me on the deck, her voice low and sad. “How did I not know that about you?”
I can understand why she’s surprised. We spent a lot of time with each other over the years doing nothing but talking. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
“Like the reason you’re moving to Texas?” She takes the seat next to me, wrapping her arms around her midriff, probably missing her jacket in the cool summer night air. I don’t have one on me to offer her, and honestly, I’m hoping she doesn’t stay long, especially when she’s talking about my impending move.
“Frankie has a really big fucking mouth.”
“You already knew that. Are you really leaving?”
I groan and lean my head back on the chair, looking up at the night sky. “Yeah.”
“Because of me?”
I swallow, my throat bobbing with regret and the agony I feel just being this close to her, knowing I fucked everything up. There were so many nights we spent in this backyard looking up at the stars and talking about everything going on in our lives. How Jay was an overprotective, yet amazing brother. How he and Frankie should just give in already. How I used women and maybe should grow up someday. How she wanted more from her career and then when she got it, how challenging it was. Nothing was off-limits.
“No.” I turn to look into her eyes. “But you left. Why is it so bad if I go too?”
“I didn’t leave.”
I’ve always been careful not to be a total asshole to Morgan. We’re all assholes, but Morgan is where we all have a soft spot. Jay, Frankie, Chris, me . . . we are all careful with Morgan. I want to call bullshit, but I fall back into my old habits. “I need to go. There’s nothing left for me here.”
“Frankie would beg to differ.”
“Frankie will be fine.” She looks too sad for me to handle, and I add, “If I’m gone, maybe you can go back. Jay misses the hell out of you. It’s killing him.”
Which is killing me.
“You love him so damn much.”
Jay was the closest thing I had to a brother. It was just me growing up. I had friends but never ones that were as loyal as Jay. “Like a brother.”
“I can come around more without you leaving.”
I turn away. She hasn’t been by the shop since everything went down, since I kissed her like a fucking Neanderthal idiot, using her to work out my own frustration with the shitty relationship I was in. “You won’t. Everything is fucked-up, Morgan, and I’m the common link. Jay, Frankie, and you will be fine without me.”
“No, we won’t, Ty.” Her hand rests on my hand, and I nearly jerk it away, unable to handle her touch, but I think twice and know it will hurt her. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant. Everything got out of control, but you can’t run away.”
My eyes meet hers, wanting to challenge her, but I hold back. She ran first, and now, she’s telling me not to. “I’m taking a job offer.”
“I thought you would always work for Chris. I can’t picture you working anywhere else.”
“A lot has changed.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
I stare at her red lips, tinted by gloss, and then look into her eyes, seeing a hint of my best friend from before but knowing that girl is long gone. “You . . .” I take another drink, struggling with the words. “You told me you were in love with me.”
I’m still haunted by her heartbreaking confession where I stood, like a fucking fool, frozen by fear and confusion.
“I was confused.”
I stare at her, surprised by that because the last thing she appeared to be that night was confused. “You what?”
She sighs softly. “Look, I did love you. And you loved me. We’ve been friends for a long time. I was a twelve-year-old adolescent when you were nineteen and started hanging out with Jay all the time,” she uses her hand to gesture at my face and then over the whole of me, “looking like that.”
“What’s your point?”
She laughs, and my God, I’ve fucking missed her laugh. “My point is, I was twelve, shy, lanky, and flat.” I smile at the memory. She was adorable, skinny, and tall for her age at the time, always wearing a ponytail, jeans and a tee.
“You were cute.”
“I was awkward, and you,” she rolls her eyes and sighs again, “you were Ty. Fucking pretty boy. Gorgeous. Always coming over and hanging out with Jay, talking about ‘chicks’ and staying for hours on end, sometimes sleeping over on the couch.”
“I still have no idea where this is going.”
“I had a crush on you, idiot.” I swallow the stupid feeling deep down. I had no idea. Her eyes roll again, and she looks as if she pities me a little. “And then, we became actual friends, hanging out on our own, talking about everyone I was dating and everyone you were sleeping with in detail. Things quickly morphed. I got confused and mistook friendship, and maybe a little lust, for love.”
Fuck.
“I’m smarter now, Ty. I needed a break. I needed to clear my head.”
“You ran.”
She nods her head and doesn’t argue with me even though she’s not one to hold back. She’s always challenged me even if I’ve tried to withhold on my end. “I did. But I’m here now, and I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
She seems like the old Morgan, but she’s different now, stronger, more sure of herself.
Her fingers lace with my own as her hand rests on mine. “Don’t leave.”
“He hates me, Morgan.”
I hate how vulnerable my voice sounds. “I’ll talk to Jay.”
“I miss you, you know.”
Her lips pull up in a small smile as she nods her head. “I miss you too.”
“I feel so fucking guilty.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for kissing me again.”
Man, I fucked up every apology I attempted to give her, and her face shows just how badly. “I’m not saying I’m sorry for kissing you.” I turn my body to face her, letting her hold onto my hand even if the touch feels wrong. Not letting myself touch her for so many years makes any contact feel wrong. “I’m sorry for kissing you when I was so lost, when I was angry and hurt. I’m sorry I used you like you were nothing, when you were everything to me.”
Her free hand brushes over my chin, and I watch her chest rise, her lips forming a circle as she puffs air through them. “You’re forgiven. Just quit running away like a little bitch.”
I laugh, an actual goddamn laugh, and it feels like it’s been years. “Damn, Morgan.”
She laughs and shrugs, letting her hand fall to her lap, but her other one still holding mine.
“Look who’s talking. I believe you ran first.”
“Hey, I was just gaining my independence.”
“Don’t forget where you’re from in the process. I mean it, Jay misses the hell out of you.”
“It’s time we all get back to who we are.”
I nod my head in agreement. “Absolutely, but I don’t think he’s going to forgive me.”
“Make him.”
I’m not sure that’s possible, and as good as it feels sitting here with Morgan, it’s hard to believe anything will change.
I have no idea if it’s going to stay this way, but it was nice to have my friend back after months and months of feeling so alone.
Maybe I wasn’t wrong about being confused by our friendship and thinking it was more than it was. I mean he is a ridiculously good-looking guy who was around all the time with his infectious smile, tickling and joking around with me. He may have seen me as a little girl, but I definitely started to see him as a man when puberty hit.
It was almost a cruel punishment having him around at that time, knowing he saw me as a little sister.
That’s the way he’ll always see me.
The doorbell pulls me from my deep thoughts, and I groan as I stand from my seat on the couch in my living room.
Jay. I’m sure it’s Jay.
I look through the peephole and stand frozen in shock for a minute.
No way.
What the hell is he doing here?
I open the door to my house, already feeling uneasy. “Chase?”
Chase Castle is standing at my door, his black t-shirt clinging to the muscles of his biceps, his ripped jeans hugging his ass, and his blond hair perfectly gelled and mussed on top of his annoyingly handsome head. “Morgan O’Neal.”
“What are you doing at my house? How the hell do you even know where I live?”
His shoulder kicks up in an arrogant shrug. “I have my ways.”
“Sounds like I’m going to have to hire my brother to beat the crap out of you.”
He chuckles. “That what you do with all of your stalkers?”
I fold my arms over my chest and nod. “They never come back.”
“Yeah, your brother is a big motherfucker.” He leans in slightly, his eyes gleaming. “But I’m not afraid of much. I like the rush.”
“What do you want?”
“A meeting.”
I cock an eyebrow with irritation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Can I come in?”
I shake my head, pushing him back as I walk out of my front door, closing it behind me. “We can talk right here.”
He holds his hands up in surrender and takes a seat on my porch, no fucks given. “No problem. Porch meeting is just fine with me.”
His southern accent irritates me as I roll my eyes and take a seat next to him. Unfortunately, I’m a naturally curious person, and I want to know why he’s here. “What do you want to meet about?”
“I want you to work for me.”
I laugh, the thought totally preposterous. “Yeah. Right.”
His eyes lock on mine, his face rugged and handsome with a few days of facial hair and a crooked smile. “I’m dead serious, Morgan. I fired Gary.”
“I’m not looking for another job.”
“I heard you and Tommy Pratt went separate ways.”
Tommy was a midlevel racer. He wasn’t going anywhere and was way too much upkeep for the talent he possesses. Not to mention, a total shithead. If you’re going to be a cocky asshole, you better be able to back it up.
“So. I still work for Tate Pearson.”
Chase’s eyes roll, and that right there is the reason I know this “meeting” won’t go far. The two men despise each other.
“There’s no law that says you can’t work for us both.”
“He hates you.”
His smirk says Tate doesn’t scare him, and I believe it. “Feeling’s mutual, but you gonna let him decide who you work for? You don’t seem like someone who takes orders.”
“He’s my friend too. If he hates someone, so do I.”
He smiles, his eyes searching mine, making me squirm, slightly uncomfortable with the momentary attraction I feel toward him. “I don’t think you hate me.”
I roll my eyes as he turns on the southern charm. “You’re wrong.”
He chuckles, leaning back on his elbows. “Look, I need someone who can kick my ass but I can’t hit.”
“How sexist of you.”
He laughs again. “Hey, I’m from Alabama. That’s just the rules. I’ll go toe to toe with any man, but I will never hit a woman.”
“Ah, how very caveman.”
“I need you. I’ll match whatever Tate is paying you. No questions asked.”
Holy shit.
Years of working with Tate and his increased popularity has left me with a respectable salary. One that Pratt was paying a tenth of when we cut ties. “You sure you can afford it?”
“I’m certain. I’m no rookie.”
He turns to look me in the eye, the devilish spark still there, telling me I’m playing with fire. “I don’t think I can do that to Tate.”
“You aren’t quitting. You’re still working for the fucker, just adding in another racer. I mean, we go to all the same events. It’s like getting paid two-for-one.”
“Give me a week.”
“Three days.”
Asshole. “Five.”
He nods his head quickly and jumps up, holding his hand out. “Deal.”
I stand up, cautiously taking his hand. “I’m not agreeing to anything except to think about it.”
He takes my hand gently, bringing it up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on my skin. “I think you’re already mine.” He winks and drops my hand, happily skipping down the stairs and heading to his car, waving behind him. “I’ll be in touch.”
Chase Castle is trouble. And Tate is going to kill me.
I take a deep breath and tug open the glass door of Chris’s tattoo shop. Years of memories of doing just that flooding my senses and threatening to strangle me as I do, but I manage to walk over the threshold.
The shop looks the same and is just as busy as ever with numerous people in the chairs and several sitting on the bench and standing along the wall, waiting their turn.
I probably should have called first.
Frankie is the first to look over at me with a knowing smile. She gives me a quick nod before going back to working on a middle-aged man with a long beard and several tattoos already.
Chris also gives me a quick nod. The new guy, Rhys, doesn’t even look my way, but Ty and Jay both do.
Ty smiles in my direction with curiosity, but his eyes then move cautiously to Jay, who has put down his tattoo machine and is taking off his gloves as he approaches me with worry. “Morgan. What’s wrong?”
I hold my hands up to calm him, smiling and shaking my head. He will forever be my protector, and there’s nothing I can do about that. “Jay, I’m fine. I should have called first, but I wanted to see if you could go get lunch.”
He studies me with suspicion, and I get it. He’s usually the one to drag my ass out to lunch or dinner. “Lunch?”
I nod my head, standing tall and trying to fight my gaze from drifting over to Ty, but I still feel his eyes on us. “Yes. Lunch, dummy. You said you wanted to get together now that I’m back in town. That was literally two days ago on the phone.” I smile and nudge his shoulder with my hand. “Are you getting that old? Starting to forget things?”
He chuckles at that, sliding his fingers over his chin. “I have to finish this tattoo, and then, sure.”
I look casually over my shoulder and see the long line of people waiting. “You guys are busy. I can come back.”
“We’re always busy.” So, Chris was paying attention. He’s really good at appearing busy and not prying into other people’s business. His blue eyes meet mine. “Take him. He could use a break.”
I smile and mouth a quick thank-you before looking at Jay again. “Okay, finish up. And don’t mess it up.”
“You’re getting mouthy there, kid.”
I laugh as he moves back to his station, grabbing new gloves. “I’ve always been mouthy, you just don’t mind it.”
He smiles, slipping into the gloves. “Not at all.”
His eyes never move to Ty or anyone else, he ju
st finishes the job. And I’m wanting so badly to talk to Ty the entire time, but he stays busy as well.
This is about Jay right now, but Frankie was right. I’m so used to the shop being full of witty banter and the artists chatting away about their lives the entire time.
No one is talking. No one is laughing. It’s all business now.
This isn’t good.
“Okay, Morgan. What’s going on?”
We barely got out of the shop before Jay gets right to the point. We start walking down the street to where a couple of food trucks are parked. “Did you know that Ty was thinking about taking a job in Texas?”
“Frankie mentioned it. Not sure what that has to do with me.”
I grab his bicep, stopping our stride and turning his large frame to face me. “It has everything to do with you, and you know it.”
“No it doesn’t, Morgan. What Ty does is none of my business.”
“Unless it involves kissing me.”
He grimaces, and I roll my eyes. What do I have to do to show him I’m nearly thirty years old? “Yeah. That definitely involved me.”
“No. It didn’t.” I release his arm and put my hand on my hip. “That was me and Ty.”
“That was that asshole taking advantage of you. You think I didn’t know about your little crush?”
My cheeks heat, and I momentarily think about darting into the street to end the embarrassment. He knew I had a crush on Ty? And even worse he calls it a “crush” because again, little immature girl. That’s who he sees. “Wha . . .” I have no idea what to say.
“I saw when you were younger, even warned him once or twice to keep his hands to himself.”
“You what?”
“He was a grown man around a young girl.”
“Who always acted completely appropriately.”
“Until he didn’t.”
“Until I was in my late twenties. Are you fucking kidding me, Jay?”
My head is about to explode. I love my brother. I need to keep reminding myself of that fact at the moment though. “What, Morgan?”
“You warned him when? When I was still a teenager?”
He shrugs. “Since you were a fucking teenager and you’d started dressing to get his attention and trying your flirty bullshit.”