by Beth Michele
I peer around him but only see heads. None of them resemble Ember. “Where is she?”
He jerks his chin over his shoulder. The music drops down a notch enabling me to hear him better. “She’s sitting at a booth and… she hasn’t stopped talking about you the entire time,” he adds, a little too pleased with himself. “I almost think maybe she came out with me so she could pump me for information. She’s curious, that one.”
I chuckle while trying not to freak the fuck out about what he told her. “Julian,” I warn, resorting to intimidation and not having a chance in hell of being successful. “What did you tell her?”
He whistles, bobbing his head. “Oh, not much. Just about the time we all went camping and you dove in the water and came up without your swim trunks.” My threatening glare does nothing to stop his rant. “And I also told her about the time you got caught having sex with that Hooters girl in the bathroom.” He taps his forehead and I’m seeing red. “What was her name?”
“The fuck you did.”
“I absolutely did. I can’t just tell her how remarkable you are, or what a great brother you’ve been to me. The way you’ve always had my back and watched out for me. How you read me to sleep every night when I had pneumonia and toted me around when I broke my leg playing football.” His expression sobers, the lines around his eyes more pronounced. “Your ability to bypass your own fears and make sure you’re there for Mom. Even when I can’t be,” he admits. “I had to give her the full picture.”
Any irritation I had dissipates. I wrap an arm around his shoulder, smiling pretty fucking wide and gesturing toward the back. “Let’s go. She’s been alone too long. Who knows what kinds of assholes are lurking.”
By the time we weave through the crowd, Ember is on her way out to dance with some guy—a broad shouldered, blond dude with a smile that’s way too fucking big. Of course he’s happy. He’s about to dance with the prettiest girl here. That lump returns, slowly rising up my throat. I swear if he touches her, I’ll pummel his ass.
Julian leaves to get me a beer while I keep my eye on Ember. She doesn’t know I’m here yet, giving me an opportunity to sit back and watch. Her arms surround this dude’s neck and as of right now, his arms are around her waist—where they better stay.
“Hey, I got you a Corona.” Julian sets the beer in front of me and I take a long pull, hoping to wash down this strange discomfort. “Is that steam I see coming out of your ears?” He grins, clicking his bottle against mine. “Cheers.” He rests his back against the wall, arm draped over the top of the booth. “This is… different for you. I’m kind of liking it. It’s about time you let someone in.”
I balk. “I haven’t let anyone in.”
“I beg to differ on that.” He lifts his wrist and glances at his watch. “It only took you two point five hours to show up.” He sips his beer then circles the bottle in the air. “Seriously, Vance. She’s a great girl.”
My eyes seek her out and I tug on my earring. “I know that. But… I also know I’m not good for her and nothing can happen.” I flash to Julian’s face, a blank slate, as if what I’m about to say is rote. “She’ll end up with a broken heart.”
“You don’t know that. And you can’t keep living your life like this. No one can predict the future. Besides, right now,” he lifts his head toward the dance floor, “you could be the one dancing with her instead of that asshole. It’s one dance.” He emphasizes. “What harm could it do?”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
I think about it for maybe ten seconds before I submit. “Shit. Okay, one dance,” I agree, and his lips slide into a grin.
“God, I’m good.” He gloats as I stalk off, barreling my way through the crowd.
I know how stupid this is. I keep telling myself this as I dodge drinks being spilled over the rims of glasses, hands slapping together in a series of drunken high-fives. This. Is. Stupid. The words continue to rattle around in my brain until I spot Ember. Her mouth drops open in surprise when her eyes land on me, cheeks lifting in a smile that encompasses her whole face. How could anything about that be stupid?
“Can I cut in, Mickey?”
“Mickey?” The blond guy’s way-too-thick eyebrows edge higher as he steps back. “I thought your name was Ember.”
“Private joke,” I mutter and he sneers, his beady eyes flicking between us.
“Whatever,” he mumbles as he wanders off, and Ember cracks up. My eyes scroll to the Mickey Mouse emblem at the bottom of her t-shirt.
“Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?”
“Nope.” She places her hands on her narrow hips and stares me down. It makes me want to break into a laugh because she’s trying hard not to smile—almost too hard. Her stance and expression are at complete odds with one another. “What are you doing here, Davenport?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” I hold out my hand and she doesn’t hesitate, curling her fingers around mine. “Now let’s dance.”
She loops her arms around my neck and mine settle around her waist. I breathe in her peach scent and something that is uniquely Ember, while her green eyes examine my face as if she’s searching for evidence. Of what, I don’t know. But if anyone can find it, it’s definitely her. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I don’t… usually,” I add, my lips twisting into a grin.
“Wow. I feel special.”
“That’s because you are.” The words slip out, but the way her eyes light up leave me without an ounce of regret.
She draws back further, scrutinizing me. Her gaze is unwavering and the hairs on my arms prickle. I know she can see me and it scares me to death. I swallow, trying to calm the fear rolling around my stomach and hoping to keep it at bay—if only for a little while.
Her gorgeous eyes narrow into fine slits. “What are you up to?”
“You ask too many damn questions, Mickey.”
“Well,” she scoffs, her ponytail flapping behind her, “maybe I wouldn’t ask so many questions, if you’d just answer them the first time.”
“Fine,” I concede on a giant breath. “I needed to get out of the house and this seemed like a good place to do it. Happy?”
“Very.” She rests her cheek on my shoulder. A minute later, her warm breath coasts over my ear. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I’m unable to reply because my own breath catches in my throat. The feel of her this close to me is pretty fucking amazing. My body wants to gravitate to hers, push closer, but I resist. Straining behind my zipper is a massive hard-on that I’m trying to conceal. I don’t want her thinking that’s what this is about—because it’s not. If it was, I could easily find someone to relieve it. Whatever this is, I don’t want to destroy it—because it already means something to me.
Wisps of fine hair brush against my chin as we sway back and forth, our bodies completely in sync. Another slow song plays and we continue to hold each other, neither of us anxious to let go. At one point Ember leans back, her eyes focused on mine. Her full lips too close, but not close enough.
“So, sex in the bathroom, huh? And a Hooters girl no less.”
“Jesus.” I look up at the grimy ceiling, grasping for a nonexistent defense to the truth. My gaze floats back down. “That was a few years ago.”
“Yes. So I’ve been told.” Her cheeks tinge pink and a burst of laughter flies from her mouth. I decide that might be my favorite sound.
“What about you? No sexual escapades of any kind?”
“Not really.” Her shoulders stiffen and she loses eye contact, staring at a spot beyond my shoulder. I wonder then if she’s a virgin, but decide it’s none of my damn business and change the subject.
“Do you play pool?”
Any previous tension dissolves on a quiet breath and she gives me her eyes again.
“I’ve played. But I’m not that good. Julian and I played two games before you got here. He was trying to give me pointers.” She laughs. “But they didn’t take.”
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nbsp; “That’s because you didn’t have the right teacher. Come on.” She follows me off the dance floor, continuing to clutch my hand as we navigate our way toward the pool tables.
Several heads turn when we walk in the room, though Ember seems oblivious to it. I tamp down the way it makes my chest tighten and focus on her. A game is ending at one of the tables and we hover in the back for a few minutes until they finish up.
“Okay,” I begin, picking up two pool sticks and holding one out in front of her. “This is a cue stick.”
Amusement erupts from her throat and she points behind me. “And that’s a table, right?”
“Yeah.” I pin her with a narrowed grin. “Keep laughing, Mickey.”
“Okay, okay.” She clears the happiness from her face. My heart inflates because it occurs to me that I like her happy—that I like her period. “I’m ready.”
“All right. So you’re going to break.” I grab her gently by the shoulders and move her to the head of the table. “Making sure your body is in line with the ball is key to acing the shot.” She bends over to get in position and my eyes fall to her ass. I remove them quickly and remind myself to focus. “Now in order to give you good control, cup your hand on the table and place the top of the cue stick in the groove between your thumb and index finger.”
“Vance?” She glances back at me, all rosy cheeks and bright eyes. I don’t think she realizes how sexy she looks right now. I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell her.
“Yeah?”
“Um, I kind of already know this part. Can we move along?” She shows her full set of teeth and I fight the urge to smack her across her cute little ass.
“Okay, Miss smart-aleck. What do you do next?”
She refocuses on the solids and stripes, setting up to break. In a flash, the white ball sails into the air before it skips along the table.
I tap my pool cue against the wood floor, smirking. “What was that you were saying?”
“I was saying—”
All traces of her smile disappear, replaced with a tiny furrow between her brows. She rights herself and stands tall, shoulders high, almost as if she’s gearing up for a fight. I shift to my right to stare at the person who seems to have riled her—tall, dark, and seriously preppy. Tan khaki pants, a light yellow polo shirt and short, cropped hair. He looks like he stepped out of a catalogue and carries himself with a sense of bullshit entitlement. Something is definitely off about him, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
“Connor,” she greets him, her tone flat. And shit, the name suits him perfectly. It screams asshole.
He walks over to us, ignoring the fact that I’m standing next to her. “Ember, it’s good to see you. You look….” His eyes drag down her body then back up and my skin crawls. She crosses one arm over her chest, using the pool cue in her hand to block him from coming any closer. He’s already close enough. I can smell the alcohol leaking out from his pores. “…Gorgeous,” he finishes. I catch her wince, like if she could wipe the compliment off, she would.
“Thanks,” she acknowledges with a nonchalant air. Then she turns to me with a tight smile. “Vance, this is Connor. Connor, Vance.”
Connor extends his hand but I refuse to shake it. He snickers as I nod my head, letting his hand drop to his waist. “Would you mind giving us a second, Vance?”
The condescending way he says my name makes my pulse throb in my neck. Itchy fingers flex at my sides, aching for just one punch. I look over at Ember to be sure she’s all right with this.
“It’s okay.” Her fake smile returns, and I’m not sure that it is okay. But she’s a big girl and can take care of herself.
With a nod, I reluctantly step back. Not far enough away where I can’t still pick up bits of their conversation—especially the part where this piece of shit is her ex-boyfriend. That part comes through loud and clear. It ticks me off because I should have pegged him earlier.
My head tilts as I strain to listen. Normally, I might feel bad about eavesdropping. But remorse isn’t remotely close to what stirs in my chest.
“Hey.” Julian appears beside me. “Who’s the douche?”
“Her ex-boyfriend,” I ground out, still watching him like a hawk.
“Really? I can’t picture that at all.”
“Join the club.”
My blood boils when I hear him speak. “Still wearing Mickey Mouse, huh? Aren’t you a bit old for that?” Ember’s lips curl into a sneer and she says something I can’t make out. I take a step forward and Julian places a firm hand on my arm.
“Vance,” he warns. “Let it be. She can handle herself.”
I know she can. And I certainly know she doesn’t want to be rescued. But my protection instinct kicks in, and I have to suck in a sharp breath and let it out slow to maintain any sort of composure. All that composure goes to shit when I catch the harsh bite of his next words.
“Maybe things would’ve worked out with us-s,” he slurs, “if you hadn’t been pining over your dead brother.”
Ember’s face pales. Tears spring up in her eyes and I’m fucking done. Even Julian doesn’t try to stop me.
My legs carry me over there in two large strides, and before Connor knows what’s happening, my fist connects with his face on a loud crack. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss, spitting the words at him.
He stumbles backwards, blood spurting from his nostrils. “What the hell? I think you b-broke my nose.”
“Yeah, and you fucking deserved it.” I flex my fist, jonesing for another hit. “You’re lucky that’s all I’m doing.” Sniffling from behind makes me whirl around. Ember’s eyes are dimmed with sadness and my insides crumble. I reach out to cup her cheek and wipe away a falling tear. “Let’s get out of here.”
The crowd that gathered to watch our little sideshow disperses. As we walk past Connor on the ground holding his nose and muttering a string of curses, I wrap a protective arm around Ember’s waist and lead her toward the exit. We leave Julian who decides to hang back for a while.
Ember hesitates in front of the bar. “I need a drink,” she admits. “Maybe more than one.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a very good idea.” She sidles her way up to the bar, tapping on the counter to attract the bartender’s attention. In rapid succession, she sucks down two shots of Tequila and a shot of Vodka. If it were any other time, I’d probably stop her. But I can’t imagine what’s going through her mind right now other than wanting to numb it.
Dragging her wrist across her mouth, she stares at me over her shoulder. “Okay, I’m good. Actually,” she pauses, her lips spiraling upward, “one more.”
“Ember—”
“Ah, ah.” She lifts her hand. “I think I’m entitled.” I don’t argue with her but I know she’s going to pay for this later. Plus alcohol never solves a damn thing.
The bartender slides one more across the counter and she tosses it back before slamming the tumbler down. She gathers in a deep breath. “I’m ready now.” She holds her head high as she dives into the crowd. But she doesn’t fool me. My hand rests on her lower back, guiding her. I stay behind, waiting for her to fall apart—and wanting to be there to help pick up the pieces.
The temperature has dropped, a blast of cool air greeting us that I think we both need. Ember is pensive, staring up at the spattering of stars brightening the sky. A streetlamp above casts a glow on her face, highlighting the sadness behind her eyes, in the fold of her lips. My chest hurts for her, and I want to erase that deep frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.
I touch her elbow gently and lead her to the car, directing her toward the passenger side. Opening the door, I bend down to help her in then tug on the seat belt, lifting it up and over her shoulder until it clicks into place. I’m inches from her face but she doesn’t see me. Her gaze is clouded, her mind elsewhere. She’s lost and I need to bring her back.
But then she laughs.
Pride swells in my chest. “I did.” And the son-of-a-bitch deserved it.
“You messed up his face.”
“He was too pretty anyway,” I counter. He needed life to give him a wake-up call.
Her gaze strays to my red knuckles. “How’s your hand?”
I grin. “Never better.”
Ember falls quiet again, the air thick with both of our thoughts. The weight forces a necessary breath from my lungs as I close her door and round the car. Once inside, I buckle up and am about to start the engine when her small voice stops me. Gone is the laughter, replaced by something much heavier.
“I wasn’t pining away for Zack,” she insists, staring out at the dark road. Already, I want another chance at that asshole’s face. “It was just… really hard. He was such a big part of who I was, who I am, and… I couldn’t fathom how to go on without him.” Her words hit close to home and a chill slides across my skin. “When all the cakes and casseroles stopped coming and the doorbell stopped ringing, it was just the four of us.” She pauses, inhaling a deep breath. “And the silence was deafening. I felt like… everyone else kept living. Going on with their lives as if nothing had happened… and I had this gaping hole in my heart.”
Pain rushes from her eyes and my soul feels as if it’s being ripped apart. “The only person who could fill it was the one who was never coming back,” she whispers, and I reach out to grasp her chin, turning her face to mine. “I miss him so much,” she whispers again, tears streaming down, eyes pleading with mine for acknowledgement, understanding. I want to give her whatever she needs—and far beyond that as well.
“Oh, sweetheart.” My thumb brushes back and forth over her skin. “I know how much you were hurting. The kind of hurt there’s no remedy for.” I raise my other hand to cup her cheek, staring hard into her eyes. “It’s okay to let yourself feel that.” She nods on a short intake of breath. “And I understand,” I murmur with a soft smile. “I do.”