“No. I’m just here to help you.”
“You can help me. You know what I need. What I like. It’s been so long,” I growled before prowling into her space. Backing her against the counter. I propped her ass up onto the countertop and stepped between her thighs, digging my dick against her hot center.
My head pounded and my blood raged as I thought about scooping the flimsy barrier of her panties aside and diving into her. Pounding and thrusting my way home as she arched and cried against me.
“Back off, Ridge.” She said the words, but her fingers tightened on my biceps. I knew she was on the razor fine edge of control with me.
“Mmm,” I hummed as I worked circles between her legs, digging the rigid heat of my erection against her pussy.
“Fuck, stop.” She pushed again and I brought my hands up her sides and ran them over her bare collarbones before weaving my fingers in her hair and squeezing, holding her head tightly in my palms as my eyes blazed into her. I froze, my eyes flicked over her body, her lips, her soft skin.
“You want this. I’ll stop until you say otherwise. But you want my dick inside you,” I murmured before placing a rough kiss on her lips. I thrust my tongue in, pushed and prodded, demanded she give me her. A small squeak escaped her throat, but she couldn't get away if she wanted to. I clung to her like she was a life preserver.
I pulled away and licked my lips, leaving hers red and swollen from my kiss. There. Let her douchebag boyfriend see that and wonder who she’d been kissing.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I won't do it again.”
“Do what?”
“Cheat. I won't cheat again. I won't do that to someone else. Or me. I carry guilt every day over what we did to Lane. I can't do it again.”
I ran the pads of my thumbs across her temples as I committed her face to my memory. Every curve and dip, the silky olive skin beneath my fingers. “Leave him.”
“Ridge . . . just because I helped you get sober—”
“That's not why I'm saying this.” I leaned into her, husked in her ear, “I can't get you out of my head.”
Her chest rose and fell in deep breaths against mine. “No, Ridge.”
I tightened my fingers in her hair, pressed our foreheads together as I sucked in a quick breath. “I know he doesn’t kiss you like I do. So go home to him. Let him touch you,” I grit through my teeth. “Let him put his hands on you. Let him put his dick inside you.” I thrust again between her legs. “And think of me when you come, Mia.” I finally managed the last part and then turned on my heel and walked down the hall. I adjusted the temperature of the water before jumping into the shower, fisting my dick in my hands, and started pulling. Tugging the flesh of my cock, hard and fast, painful, until I spurt all over the shower wall with Mia’s sweet face in my mind.
I tried to ignore the calls that blew up my phone all day Monday.
Mia called and called and fucking called. Left messages every time, but I deleted every one. I couldn’t see her. Not after what we were, what I wanted us to be. I’d given in. I didn’t trust myself. I would have fucked her right there on that countertop if she’d let me, just days after seeing my brother. I didn’t trust myself.
Mia kept texting.
Call me.
Worried.
Everything okay?
Just tell me you’re okay.
I’m coming over after work if you don’t answer this.
That one got me.
I stayed at home, laptop propped on my legs, trying to get work done. I’d awoken late, after being up all night on the balcony, smoking that god-forsaken e-cigarette, and hanging by a thread. Trying to stay clean and sober, going so far as to put my credit cards in the freezer so I couldn’t go buy a drink or grab money from the ATM to score.
Frozen in a bucket of water in my freezer. That was what I'd been reduced to.
I knew it wouldn’t stop me for long if I wanted to fall off the wagon, but it would give me time to think about the pathetic asshole I was as I chipped away the ice to get to my precious Amex.
I growled when my phone lit up again with her name.
Mia, Mia, Mia, fucking haunting me. At night. During the day. I couldn't escape her and I wanted to, but to what end? Until I fell into another bottle? A bag of coke?
I typed out a quick response.
I’ll pick up if you bring me some smokes.
Not on your life, came her immediate response.
I laughed and growled and shook my head, frustrated and so fucking in love with my strong girl. It fucking knifed me in the heart that she was still with that arrogant prick. Who had a hell of a left hook, by the way. Cock-sucking cheek still hurt.
Glad you’re alive.
I sent her the emoticon for eye rolling.
Do you need anything? I can bring dinner . . .
Not a good idea. Thanks tho, I replied.
Okay . . .
I worked over those four letters and the ellipsis that followed.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I scrolled through my contact list before landing on a name and hitting send.
“Hey, little bro.”
“Hey.”
“Sound like shit.”
“Thanks,” I huffed as I readjusted the phone against my ear. I was fidgeting, looking for an excuse to delay my reason for calling.
“What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk about what you said last weekend.”
“Yeah?” he prompted.
“Mia.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah . . .”
He paused for long moments, our breaths the only thing filling the silence. “Do what you gotta do, man.”
“Yeah, I know you said that. What does that mean?” I chuckled, ran a hand through my hair, and pulled. I was such a fucking douche. An epic asshole, asking my brother's permission to date his ex.
“It means . . . if being with her gets you straight, then be with her.”
“And you and I?”
“We’ll be as always.”
“Well that hasn’t always been good,” I muttered.
“It will be. It has been lately. Look, man. I have Kat. I’m happier than any guy has a right to be. And you’re not. If Mia does that for you, then that’s what you need. If I wasn’t with Kat . . . fuck knows where I’d be. I can’t imagine it, so if Mia does for you what Kat does for me, then I’m good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Thanks. I just needed . . . needed to hear you say it.”
“Got it, bro. That all?”
“Yeah.”
“’Kay. Later.”
And just like that, he hung up. But a grin split across my face. My brother was good. Really fucking good. And better than that, I felt like we were good. Going forward, whatever happened with Mia and me, my brother and I were good.
Another week went by and Mia called me every day. Every single day in the morning on her way to work, and then again at night before bed. Sometimes, she brought me food, leftovers or takeout. She knew if she didn’t feed me, I wouldn’t bother to cook. Not that I couldn’t, I could cook my ass off, thanks to TJ, but I was so focused on staying clean, so fidgety from the lack of alcohol in my system and the poor excuse for nicotine, I was barely hanging on.
I’d given in and taken a leave from work, just a week or two until shit got straight.
But every night when the lights went off, the demons came out. Sometimes, Mia stayed on the phone with me for hours. I never heard Brett's voice in the background again, even when I called at two a.m. one night after the obsessive thinking to score nearly sank me.
But she answered and we talked. She even offered to come over. I wanted her to. So badly, I wanted to say, yes, please, I need you. But I didn’t. I was determined to have respect for her, something that had been a problem in the past.
So we continued on. A week went by, another one, and I slowly got hold of my own thoughts.
There still wa
sn’t an hour that went by that I didn’t think about getting a drink or putting something in my arm, but it was easier to control the urge. It wasn’t so consuming.
Another Saturday night, and Mia and I were set up with pizza and . . . soda.
I grinned when she walked in the door with a jug of root beer in hand.
Rolling my eyes, I took it from her and planted a kiss on her temple.
She stilled beneath me for a moment. I was surprised at myself—we hadn’t touched, at all, since a few weeks ago when I’d cornered her on the countertop.
We set up in front of the TV, flicked on Jeopardy, fought over who was winning, and booed at Alex when he denied an answer because it was pronounced wrong.
Mia laughed and popped a pepperoni into her mouth and the urge hummed through me to lean over and kiss her senseless. To feel her lips against mine, her skin under my fingers, to lie with her tucked against my body.
I just wanted to be with her.
Desperately.
I shook my head, threw my e-cig in my mouth, and took a desperate puff to get my mind off that train of thought. I couldn't have her. And I couldn’t take her, at least not until she was ready. And she wasn’t. We’d moved into the platonic territory. We’d both become good at ignoring the sparks that darted between us when we were in the same room. Almost.
After pizza and Jeopardy, we moved to the balcony, feet propped on the railing as we watched the sunset. Oranges and pinks streaked the sky, the vibrant colors reflected off the clouds.
People were out enjoying the last vestiges of fall before winter blew in.
“Brett and I broke up.”
My eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t uttered his name in weeks. It was the one and only topic we avoided. We even discussed Lane and Kat a few times. Mia mentioned she was so happy that he’d found someone and that they were expecting a kid.
But Brett? Never that bastard.
“You want to talk about it?” I avoided her eyes as I watched the boats moving in and out of the bay.
“I’m okay. We weren’t . . . well, it was more serious for him than me, I think.”
“Mmm . . .” I trailed off with a nod. I didn’t have words, didn’t know what it meant, if anything. I didn’t even know what I wanted from Mia. I was so far in deep in my own shit, I didn’t think I had anything to give, but if I did, every last bit would go to her.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not happy.” She grinned at me.
I shrugged, a sheepish smile lighting my face. “I’m happy if you are, but if you’re not . . . I don’t want you to hurt.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay . . . Well, I’m happy then.” I nudged her shoulder with mine.
“Me too.”
“Was it because of me?” I felt bad if I was at fault for fucking up Mia’s life any more than I already had.
“As much as I’d like to say no . . .” She grinned and nudged my shoulder back. “It totally was.” Her face lifted in an earsplitting grin.
“Sorry.” I tried to fake remorse.
“It was and it wasn’t. He was getting sick of your late-night calls, just wanted me to not answer, but I couldn’t do that.”
“You couldn’t?”
“No. Might send you headfirst over the edge.” She winked at me.
“I can take care of myself,” I huffed.
“Really?” She arched one perfect eyebrow.
“Yeah, you’re right. Totally would have offed myself without you.” I winked back at her.
“That’s what I thought. So, anyway, for him it was about you, but for me . . . I didn’t fight for him because we just weren’t a good fit.”
I nodded as thoughts swirled in my head. Were Mia and I a good fit? I didn’t think so, I didn’t think we ever had been, but that hadn’t seemed to matter. We’d been drawn together; some inexplicable connection bound us that we were helpless to fight.
Mia’s phone buzzed from inside my apartment and she darted in after it. When I heard a sob escape her throat a few moments later, I darted in after her.
My eyes landed on her, bent over the counter, one hand holding the phone to her ear, the other shaking uncontrollably at her neck.
I crossed the space in long strides and wrapped her in my arms.
“I’ll leave tonight.” She paused and I heard muffled words over the line.
Fresh tears burst down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She nodded one more time and hung up.
She turned into me, tucked her head into my chest, and released fresh sobs onto the cotton of my shirt.
“Shh . . .” I hushed her and rubbed her back, held her in my arms as tightly as I dared. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. I suspected what had happened.
She confirmed it a few minutes later when she mumbled into my chest that her mom’s cancer was back. She’d been in remission for over a year, and it was back, stronger than ever. They gave her six weeks to live at most.
I held her tighter, stroked her hair, and rocked back and forth with my sweet, sad girl in my arms.
In the midst of my shit, my world falling out beneath me, she’d just found out she was losing her mom. And here I was again, with her, when she was facing more upheaval in her life.
I just hoped I had it in me to take care of her.
I drove Mia up to her parents’ house in Rock Island that night. We stayed a week. She stayed with her parents, and we visited a lot of evenings, sitting out on the big wraparound porch that overlooked the shoreline.
I stayed at the hotel in town. Kat had tried to insist that I stay with them, but she was hugely pregnant and there was no way I would lay a visitor on her, and I was pretty sure Lane still didn’t want me around his wife. Pregnant or not, he was protective, to say the least.
After a week, I went back to Portland and left Mia with her parents. I promised to return the following weekend with more of her clothes and any other items she wanted.
It didn’t take that long.
Her mom died on a cold and blistery Thursday. It was fitting. Dark and bleak, like nothing good could ever happen on that day in November.
I drove up that night after Mia called.
I wrapped her in my arms and we slept in her twin bed, huddled together while she alternated between sobbing and sleep.
I'd been worried whether or not I could keep my shit under control while I was there for her, and it turned out that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t an option.
Mia needed me and I was there.
I didn’t think about drinking or getting high.
I still carried around those e-cigs with me and smoked like a steam train, but I no longer complained either.
I was Mia’s rock, because a rock was what she needed.
I held her hand as she made funeral arrangements with her dad.
I held her at the funeral as she slowly shattered in my arms.
I took her back to my hotel room and held her all night, and for three more nights because she couldn’t bear to be in the house at night without her mom there, even though she wasn’t ready to leave Rock Island and her dad yet.
I was there for her. And realization dawned: I could be there for her.
She had no one else. Her mom had passed, her brother had taken his own life years ago—it was just she and her dad now, and me. She was relying on me to be her strength, and while the thought of anyone relying on me previously had repulsed me, when Mia needed it, I did it.
“My?” I called as I stepped into her apartment. We’d only been back in town from her mom’s funeral for a week, and I knew things were tough with her, so I was trying my best to keep her somewhat distracted.
We ate dinner together a lot of nights, never planned, but something I was beginning to count on.
“My?” I set the bag of takeout on the counter and pulled out cartons of pad thai and red curry.
Pounding water echoed down the hall from the en suite bathroom as I headed for the hallway.
I
took a step into her dimly lit room, the sound of the shower growing louder.
Clothes were strewn across every available surface and the bed unmade. The girl never made her bed, drove me insane. Her entire house was perfect, spotless, but her bedroom was a disaster zone of clothes and makeup and hair shit.
I took another step in and fingered a pair of lace panties half falling out of the top dresser drawer.
The sick fuck in me wanted to bring them to my nose and sniff.
I missed her smell.
Being so near to her was a small form of torture, delicious torture these past few weeks.
I dropped the lace from my fingers and headed for the cracked door of the bathroom. Steam poured out, the strum of water raining down, a yellow glow illuminating the doorjamb.
I curled my fingers around the wood and eased it open a little to tell her I was here with dinner, when I heard a sob.
“My?” I ducked my head in further and saw her crouched on the floor near the toilet. “Hey, you okay?” She sat wrapped in a towel, her hair damp from the steam and curling around her face.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and her hands trembled.
“My, hey, look at me.”
Her eyes flashed open, as if before that moment she hadn’t even heard me.
“Come here.” I pulled her into my arms. She shook and trembled, without saying a word. I stroked her back, down her long hair and sucked in the heady scent of her damp skin clinging to me.
“I brought food. It’s going to be all right, My,” I murmured against her cheek before I glanced down to see a river of red streaking the tile grout.
Jesus Christ what was happening?
“Mia.” I swallowed and pulled at her hand, the one clenched in a tight fist. “Fuck Mia, give me your hand.” I pried her fingers open to find a razor blade cutting into her palm.
“I tried not to, I didn’t want to, but I’m losing it.” She sobbed and dropped the razor from her hand. It fell in her lap, bright red marring the fluffy white towel wrapped around her.
My hands shook as I looked around for something to wrap her hand in. I had to stop the bleeding. I didn’t know anything about this. Was it too deep? Did she need stitches? Fuck, maybe I should call an ambulance.
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