by Kylie Scott
Next, Star knelt down in front of Eric, holding his hands. They talked softly together. Meanwhile, Joe looked on, brows knitted and gaze glued to the woman.
No way had I been given enough painkillers to deal with this. Someone would need to set me up with a morphine drip at the very least.
“Alex?” asked Rosie gently.
“Who is she?” I whispered. But Joe heard me anyway.
“Hey,” he said, face filled with tension and gaze shifting between me and Star. “Alex, we’ll talk later. Okay?”
I nodded, on the verge of tears for some dumbass reason. What a night.
“Let’s go.” Rosie walked me out with a hand on my lower back, guiding me out of the building.
It was something like four in the morning. Almost dawn. Still the stars shone brightly. Fresh cold air flooded my lungs, breathing new life back into me. So much bad had happened in the last few hours. How remarkable that life could just go on.
* * *
Back in the hotel room, I did what I always did during times like this—when I felt alone, like I was the last person on earth, lost and hurting. In need.
She picked up on the fifth ring. “Hello? Alex?”
“Valerie. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“What happened? You sound weird. What’s wrong?”
“We were in a car accident,” I said.
“You fucking what?” she screeched in my ear.
Ouch. “It’s okay. Everyone’s going to be okay, I guess. I just … it’s been a pretty messed up night. I needed to talk to you.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m listening. Tell me everything and take it slow.”
* * *
Joe didn’t come over that night. Nor did he call the next day.
Which made sense, really. His family had just been through a terrible loss, his brother would need him, of course. He probably needed time to catch up with Star as well. Besides him just needing to rest and heal. Selfish of me to think otherwise. I wasn’t that badly hurt that I needed checking up on. It was hard to move around due to every muscle in my body feeling like it had been run over by a truck. And making any kind of facial expression was out of the question. Resting bitch face was the only safe choice. But I had pain meds and room service, a big hot bath to relax my strained muscles, and plenty of movies to watch if I couldn’t sleep. So how bad could life be?
I missed him, though.
Yes, I could have called him. Maybe I should have. The thought of interrupting something important held me back, though. Poor Eric. Poor Nell. For sure, I was worrying about Joe not calling for no reason. What a fucked-up situation. It was nothing like the time he’d just dropped off the face of the earth email-wise. We were friends, or something, now. He wouldn’t do that to me again. Surely. Hopefully, everyone else was okay. As okay as they could be. Maybe tomorrow I’d go into Dive Bar, see how things were going. On the other hand, that might be construed as me lurking or something.
Gah. There was no set etiquette for this. We’d been sleeping together for a couple of nights and friends for months and months. But this situation …
Whatever his silence meant, it didn’t feel good or right.
* * *
Banging on my hotel door. It was like a recurring dream. I’d been fast asleep—way off in la-la land at only eight o’clock at night. I switched on the light and hobbled over to the door, hurting but excited because finally he was here. Thank God.
Smile on my poor aching, battered face, I opened the door and froze.
“Well, you look like shit,” she said.
“Val?” I blinked. She was like a mirage, so badly wanted it couldn’t be true.
“I’d hug you, but everywhere looks like it hurts.” Instead, she patted me gently on the head. “Holy hell, Alex. I knew this trip was going to be big for you, but this is ridiculous.”
“Tell me about it.” I groaned, stepping back. “Come in. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too. Go lie down before you fall down.”
With a full-size suitcase in tow, she made her entrance. Her makeup was natural looking and not a strand of her dark ponytail was out of place. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on her classic black pant suit, nor a spot of dirt on her patent heels. Valerie always had more style in her perfectly manicured pinkie toe than I did in my entire body, and her loyalty knew no bounds. The last few days had been so crazy, it was comforting to know some things never change.
“So, here we are in the wilds of northern Idaho.” She collapsed into the armchair, watching me climb slowly back into bed.
“Indeed.” I tried to get comfortable, closing my eyes against the light.
“Do you need me to get you anything?”
“No. Thanks.”
A pause.
“What are you going to do about the beastman?” she asked quietly.
A stupid urge to burst into tears came over me, eyes itching and nose leaking. No. Absolutely not. Everything hurt and I missed him. Basically, I was being a big baby, but I drew the line at tears. If my voice waivered a little, there wasn’t much I could do about that. “I don’t know.”
“How do you feel about him?”
“Good question.” Needy. Pathetic. Confused. Ah, man. “Maybe we should head back to Seattle, give him some space. He’s got so much happening right now.”
“Is this you running away?”
I gave her question a lot of thought. Or as much as possible, given the dull thumping going on in my head. “I don’t think so. I just … shit. I want to do the right thing by him but I have no idea what that is.”
“Guess you better ask him.”
“Yeah.”
A long sigh from her. “Go back to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll fix your face and your life. In that order.”
I snorted. Gently.
It was good to have friends.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sadly, only so much of your life can be fixed with a makeover.
Val and I went to breakfast at one of the cafés down the street. Care of her mad skills, my bruises were covered and my hair cunningly styled to hide the stitches. Much less Frankenstein than the day before. After much discussion, the decision had been reached. I would call Joe. The only question that remained was when?
“Now,” said Val, voice strong, as we stood in the lobby of the hotel after breakfast.
“What if he’s sleeping in, recuperating?” I punched my floor number in the elevator. “In a couple of hours would be better.”
“You’re just delaying. I know all about you, chicken shit lady.”
“That’s harsh.”
“But true.”
Unable to deny it, I shrugged.
The elevator pinged, the doors slid open. And I found myself staring at the man of my dreams. Literally. My subconscious had been worrying over the subject of him all night.
“Joe.”
He sat on the floor, head hanging low, his back up against my apartment door. When I spoke he looked up, tangled blond hair sliding back from his face. Shit, if anything, he seemed worse than he had at the hospital. He looked diminished, like this whole experience had taken and taken from him. Worry bowed his shoulders, sorrow filled his eyes.
“Hey.” I stepped forward, Val at my side.
“Hey,” he said. Moving in slow motion, he climbed to his feet.
“It’s good to see you. How are you feeling? How’s your arm?”
He waved the cast in my general direction.
Silence.
I just stared at him, soaking up the sight. “It’s so good to see you.”
Beside me, a throat cleared. “Hi, I’m Val.”
“Val.” Joe gave her a flicker of a smile. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
“Good to meet you too and I’m going now,” she announced, pushing the button for the elevator. It hadn’t gone anywhere. The doors slid straight open and Val disappeared without another word.
Joe and I were left alone.
Fun
ny thing about hotels, they’re one of those in-between places. People are always coming and going, but no one lives there. Hallways especially seem to be both haunted by the memories of past guests and waiting for new travelers to pass through. So quiet and still, filled with the invisible eyes of security cameras, they’ve always freaked me out a little.
But the way Joe watched me out of the corner of his eye, like I might attack, like he maybe didn’t want to be looking at me but couldn’t resist, was far worse.
“Let’s talk in your room,” he said.
I nodded, dread weighing down my every move. Goodbye had a feeling, a scent, and Joe was covered in the shit. My moves were mechanical, emotional armor doing its best to keep me covered.
Open door, go inside, wait for him to also enter, close door and face him as best I could. Don’t cry, because crying wouldn’t help.
I looked at him, and he looked at me, and neither of us said a thing.
Then he moved.
A hand slid over the nape of my neck and his mouth covered mine. Tongues sliding against each other, teeth knocking. The cast on his arm pressed against my lower back, holding me to him. Heaven. Nirvana. All of these things. I clung to him, tears of relief flowing down my face. We were okay. We were fine. Sex could fix anything and I needed him so bad it hurt. Whatever it took, I’d do it for him. I wanted to kiss and stroke every inch of his big body. Show him how much he meant to me, every way I knew how. Not let him leave this room until we’d started to heal him, to put him back together again.
His good hand slid under my dress, feeling up my ass, giving it a squeeze. What a time to be wearing tights. Blue with scattered purple dots, even. I’d been in need of something loud and happy.
“Get them off,” he growled.
“Yes.”
I kicked off my boots and dragged down both the tights and the Little Miss Fucking Sunshine underwear. Joe’s smile was all sharp teeth. My heart galloped.
“On the end of the bed, legs spread,” he said.
I backed up the necessary few steps then sat on the mattress. Joe sunk to his knees. Guess we were doing oral. Everything inside of me tumbled and turned. Not particularly gently, he pushed up my denim skirt. Bruises? Sore muscles? Didn’t feel a one. Nothing but pure excitement going on here.
“Heels on the edge of the mattress.”
“Yes, sir.” I grinned.
He groaned and nipped at my inner thigh. “Been needing to eat you.”
The things he said … everything between my hips tightened. I was most definitely good and wet.
“You should definitely follow your instincts,” I said. “They’re right on.”
Without further ado, he dragged his tongue up the length of my slit, making my back arch. Strong arms circled my thighs, cast and hand resting on my belly. And that beard, Christ, did he know how to use it. Soft wiry bristles tickled and teased while his mouth went to work. As with everything Joe did, he did it damn well. Complete concentration, absolute dedication. He suckled the lips of my labia before slipping his tongue between them to get at the tender flesh below. The man treated my sex like a smorgasbord, he could not get enough. Fingers spread me open and he lapped at and all around my clit, making me squirm.
Fucking good. He was so fucking good and he’d barely gotten started.
Up and down he dragged his tongue, setting me alight. Every nerve ending in me was giving him its complete attention. My toes curled when he flicked his tongue back and forth across me. The sheet fisted in my hands, I held on as if gravity might give way. For sure, my mind had been flung into outer space. Kissing and licking, he left no part of me unloved. A wet thumb pad slid around and around, teasing my back entrance, opening me just a little.
It all felt so incredibly good while his arm in its cast, laid across my stomach, held me down. The man ground his face against me, making me pant, before flicking his tongue over and around my clit. If the man didn’t suck on it soon, I might just have to kill him.
“Joe.”
“Mm?”
“Please,” I begged, pushing my pussy into his face.
His hot mouth covered the top of my sex and I died just a little. To feel his lips drawing on me, suckling that tight bundle of nerves. Absolute pleasure surged through me, racing up my spine, making every nerve in me riot. I came and came as he kept at me, drawing it out. Even when it got to be too much, his hold stayed strong. The man was relentless. I choked out a cry, every hair standing on end. I couldn’t stop shaking, muscles jumping and my sex tight. The man owned my body.
I loved him and I hated him, and I honestly hadn’t known him long enough for either. But he had me. There could be no fighting this one true fact. Joe had me, whether he wanted me or not.
All I could do was try to continue breathing. It wasn’t easy. My body lay limp on the bed, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. Beneath me, the sheet clung to my skin, wet with sweat and cum. And still Joe kept his face pressed against my thigh, fingers digging into me as if he was afraid to let go. Now and then he’d press a soft kiss against my damp skin.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?”
“I want you to go, Alex,” he said eventually. “Back to Seattle.”
“Wha—”
“This isn’t … I can’t do this with you right now.”
“You can’t do what with me right now?” Rising up on my elbows, I looked down at him in horror. Wet lips set and eyes sad. Christ, he was serious. This couldn’t be happening. “You go down on me and then you dump me? Are you serious?”
Nothing.
“Joe, look at me.”
He sighed.
“Is this about Star coming back to town? She’s the one you talked about in that email, isn’t she?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “The one you wanted to settle down with.”
“It’s not about Star or you,” he said, face turned aside. So much guilt. “It’s me.”
“You mean it’s the car accident,” I said, voice rising in volume. “It’s Nell losing the baby. It’s your ex coming back to town. It’s everything. You’re overwhelmed, I get it.”
He flinched.
“For the first time, you’re not everyone’s Mr. Fixit and it’s messing with you. It’s hurting you,” I said, trying to go gentle but failing. “I understand, I do. But ending this, us, isn’t the answer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Joe, please.”
Slowly, he got to his feet. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to close my legs. After what we’d just done, like decency fucking mattered. Too many emotions warred inside of me. I didn’t know who to give the microphone to, anger and frustration or love and understanding. They all had a hell of a lot to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said again as if that fixed anything. Then he opened the door, walked through it, and pulled it closed. All without looking back at me once. He was gone.
I’d walked out on a lot of men. I’d also been walked out on by a lot of men. This, however, was the first time it’d ever mattered. If this was what it felt like to have your heart broken, it sucked.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Like hell.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Awkward didn’t cover how it felt walking into Dive Bar the next day, having been dumped by one of their favorite sons. Val may have had to nudge me through the door when I stalled at the entrance. Bravery and I weren’t well acquainted. Maybe I’d be in luck and discover he hadn’t told anyone yet. Either way, I had to get an idea of where things stood.
Midmorning, the restaurant was quiet. Only a couple of people sat nursing coffee and cake. Despite my skulking, Lydia noticed me immediately.
“Hey.” Her smile gentled, her eyes filled with empathy. Never had anyone looked quite so sad on my behalf. Lydia really was a sweetheart. “How are you, Alex?”
So, everyone knew.
“Hi, Lydia. I’m fine,” I said through a twitchy grin. “This is my friend Valerie.”
/> Val lifted a hand in greeting.
“How is Nell?” I asked.
At this, Lydia’s smile strengthened. “She’s at Pat’s place, she’ll be off for a couple of weeks at least. It looks like she and Pat are back together. Losing the baby is horrible, but it’s nice that something good has come out of this.”
“Yeah.”
“Does that sound awful? It’s hard to know what to say at times like this.” She worried at her short black apron, turning to glance at Vaughan busily setting up behind the bar. “And you and Joe were banged up pretty badly too.”
“No, it doesn’t sound awful. And I’m on the mend. Val has concealer and knows how to use it, so…”
“Good. That’s good.” She sighed. “Eric took off. No one knows where to.”
“Crap.” No wonder Joe was stressed out and taking on everything himself. I looked around the room, as if I were seeing it for the last time. The dark brickwork, the mix of industrial and old style blending so beautifully. The man had made the place perfect and yet avoided any of the credit. I took a deep breath. “Is Joe here?”
Hesitation hit her, her eyes straying upward. “Um…”
“Could I get a coffee?” Val smiled, smoothly stepping in to distract her, and earning herself another nomination for best friend of the year. “And Alex tells me you have the best brownies in town. You gotta hit me with one of those.”
Lydia laughed, letting herself be swept toward the counter.
Meanwhile, I headed through the kitchen toward the back of the building. The same route Joe and I had taken the infamous night of the red candles, heart-shaped pizza, and horrible music. Boyd and the kitchen kid were busy prepping for lunch. Neither paid me any attention. Out the back door and up the stairs I went. The pounding of a hammer echoed through the upstairs hallway. When it paused, exuberant swearing took its place.
Joe stood in the last room, trying to beat a piece of pine into submission. Unfortunately, while his good hand had the hammer under control, his broken hand obviously made holding the wood in place impossible.