Regret (Under My Skin Book 1)

by Christina Lee

  “Thanks, Mom,” I replied, my mouth salivating at the breakfast sandwich she pulled out of the bag along with a container of her homemade oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar. “Sorry you drove all the way out here.”

  “It was no hardship,” Dad said as he continued nuzzling Tally’s fur. “You know your mother, she’d want to feed you regardless.”

  “Sounds like my mom,” Nick supplied and we all chuckled. That led to a conversation about Nick’s parents and his father’s engraving business which he described while I took a bite of the egg sandwich, feeling famished after days of having zero appetite.

  “But I’m also attending cosmetology school,” Nick said and I froze because it was the first time I’d heard him admit it out loud. “So I’m not sure what the next couple of years are going to look like.”

  “Good for you,” Mom said, patting his shoulder while Nick threw a wry and confident smile my way. His eyes were bright and he seemed—dare I say it? Happy.

  And the look was magnificent on him.

  A few minutes more and Dad nudged Mom toward the door. As we said our goodbyes, Dad turned to me suddenly and said, “I almost forgot.”

  He reached inside the canvas bag Mom had brought and pulled out a flat, thin, brown paper package I recognized right away as being used for purchasing comic books.

  “Um, found another one for your collection,” he said, handing it to me, his cheeks flushing, which I found odd. But before I could reason through it, I was saying thanks, and he was shutting the door behind them.

  “Well that wasn’t so bad, right?” I asked Nick as he sank down on the couch.

  “They seemed cool. Crash course in meeting the ’rents,” he replied with a wink.

  “Crash course in tons of things, I guess.” I worried my lip between my teeth hoping he wasn’t feeling so overwhelmed he’d need some time alone. I felt like we’d just found equal footing.

  “Well, we had lots of time to make up for, didn’t we?” he replied, his gaze steady on mine, and it helped drain the tension from my shoulders.

  “Yeah…yeah, we did,” I replied absent-mindedly as I sat on the edge of the couch and remembered the flat package I was holding.

  I carefully fished out the comic book Dad had handed me and gawked at it, my heart skipping a beat. “Holy shit.”

  It was a pristine copy of Inhumans vs. X-Men #17, which only released this past winter. If you were a comic book aficionado like me, you knew that this edition featured Bobby Drake—otherwise known as Iceman—and Romeo, who were considered star-crossed lovers in the tie-in series.

  I flipped through the pages, scanning through their one-on-one dates and eventually landing on the big gay moment. A full-on kiss in Technicolor.

  “What is it?” Nick asked as I stared unabashedly at the full-page lip-lock.

  “My father’s peace offering,” I replied, my throat tight as I flipped the book toward him.

  “Whoa.” He tugged on my hand so we could sit and read through it together.

  After we put on a pot of coffee and finished eating Mom’s awesome breakfast, we took Tally for a walk along Lake Erie. We stopped at Nick’s apartment first so he could change clothes and fuss more with his hair.

  Elijah and Stewart were heading out the door to a friend’s cookout as we were coming in. When he noticed our interlaced hands, Elijah’s grin widened.

  “I’ll assume all is cool?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

  “All is great,” Nick replied, thumping his shoulder and smiling.

  As we walked along the rocky shoreline at Lakewood Park, which was packed to the gills with kids and families, we talked about how I’d respond to my dad’s gift with a phone call later that night. We also discussed Nick’s schedule of cosmetology classes. I could tell he was being cautiously optimistic about what might happen with his father’s business. “I’ll need to talk to my mom about selling or shutting down.”

  I reached for his hand and squeezed our fingers together because dreaming about the future was huge for him and I wanted to be as supportive as I could.

  When he happened to mention his weekly trips to the cemetery and tending to the plots as well as the flowers he always brought, an idea jumped out at me.

  I turned to him and gripped his arm. “Mind if I come along with you on Saturday?”

  His eyebrows creased together. “To visit their graves?”

  Maybe I was doing that crash course thing again, but considering what I now knew about his sister and those weeks I first met him, it was something I wanted to share with him. But maybe it was too soon.

  “Never mind,” I replied, shaking my head. “Don’t mean to pry.”

  “You’re absolutely not.” He yanked on my hand, drawing my knuckles up to his lips. “Thanks for asking. I’d like for you to come.”

  37

  Nick

  Somehow I was able to breathe more freely with Brin in the passenger seat as we rolled past the ornate iron gates at the cemetery, sweaty hands clasped across the center console.

  We had spent all week completely wrapped in each other’s lives. When I wasn’t spending the night at Brin’s place after work, we were madly texting or talking on the phone until well past midnight, about anything random we could think of, much like the first time we’d gotten to know each other in tutoring sessions. Favorite video games, movies, brands of ice cream. His was mint chocolate chip—duly noted.

  Everything felt brand new and amazing and full of possibilities for the first time in my adult life. When I met Brin after work one night at Doggie Styles, he introduced me to his co-worker, Brooke, and his boss, Tristan, before we drove down the road to grab dinner and see a movie.

  Midweek, I had a heart-to-heart conversation with my mom when she stopped into the engraving shop. I told her more about Brin and my ideas about working in a salon one day. She didn’t push me to make any decisions; this was new for her too, after all. We simply talked—sincerely and honestly—and it felt incredible. Like I’d lifted the heavy armor from my shoulders and set it aside for a while. It was still there, like some version of a phantom limb, but it wasn’t nearly as grueling or suffocating.

  Mom invited Brin to Sunday dinner with Elijah and me tomorrow, and I looked forward to getting to know Jim and his family as well. It was the start of a new beginning for both of us. We’d sort of been here before, except this time was way different. We were more open and upfront and real.

  Earlier today, I had gone to my cosmetology class, where Darren proceeded to drill me about my new boyfriend—damn, that’d felt good to admit out loud—and then stopped to get a bouquet of daisies on the way to pick up Brin.

  The cemetery was filled with row after row of floral arrangements staked into the ground alongside American flags leftover from Memorial Day weekend.

  I pulled beside the familiar grassy embankment, relieved our section wasn’t as crowded as some of the others we’d driven by on the way here.

  We exited the car and began walking through the center of the trees. If I shut my eyes, my body would still automatically lead me there.

  “Wait, we forgot the flowers,” Brin pronounced and then turned for the car. “Be right back.”

  Suddenly a wave of nausea took hold of me, imagining what all of this looked like from Brin’s point of view. My dad’s and Zoey’s graves side by side, our family name imprinted in the stone along with their birth and death dates.

  My knees wobbly, I squatted down momentarily and traced their names in the granite like I always did. It all came roaring back like the resounding bang of a drumbeat in my chest. How they’d lowered Zoey’s casket into the ground, while neighbors and family and friends threw handfuls of dirt on top before ambling to their cars in the drizzling rain. How I stood gaping at the shiny black rectangular box, the very idea of never seeing her again staggering.

  So staggering in fact, my parents asked to be cremated and their ashes added beside hers if ever the day came. And came it did, for one of them.


  I sprang up from my knees, trying to corral my emotions as more of the memories flooded my brain.

  How none of my neighbors or classmates seemed to be able to make eye contact with me that day. And if they did all I saw was pity, which made a fuckton of sense because I was overwhelmingly destroyed, like a shattered mirror, simply trying to piece enough of myself together to get through the rest of the day. Let alone the rest of my life. And I wasn’t doing a bang-up job of it—that was for certain.

  “Hey, Dad and Zoey,” I said in an unsteady voice. “I brought somebody here with me today. The guy I was telling you about. His name is Brin and I’m…hopelessly in love with him.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and toed some of the stones near their graves. “And now that I’m here, my thoughts are all jumbled again. The guilt and shame will always be there, I guess. Along with the heartache.”

  Glancing down at Zoey’s grave, I let it all pour out. “I’m so damn sorry you’re not alive anymore. Because of me. And for as long as I live I will never forget you—you’ll be a part of me every single day of my life.”

  Shudders rolled up my back and pulsed through my shoulders until all of that emotion transformed itself into fat tears rolling down my cheeks. I swiped at them unceremoniously but they only kept coming.

  “But I’ve got to move on. In my heart of hearts, I finally believe that. If anything, to make you proud,” I panted out, my voice hoarse. “Because up until this point, I was only existing…just trying to do the right thing. As it turns out, I wasn’t fooling anybody.”

  I placed my head in my hand and rocked forward on the balls of my feet. “It’s fucking hard trying to figure out what the right thing is to do. Being happy makes me feel like I’m betraying you. But if I’m sad and miserable all the time then I’m just wasting this life.” I took a deep quivering breath. “I’d still trade places with you in a heartbeat. But I guess for now I’ve got to believe there’s a reason why I’m still here.”

  I felt Brin’s heat moving closer behind me. He’d been listening and patiently waiting. Turning, I tugged on his hand and dragged him to stand in front of me. After he bent to place the flowers on the grave, I encircled him in my arms and hugged him tightly against me, almost feeling whole again.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said against his ear. “It means so fucking much.”

  I felt a single tear drip onto the back of our joined hands.

  “Thank you, Zoey,” Brin whispered, after clearing his throat. His gaze was transfixed on her grave. “For bringing Nicholas Dell into my life.”

  I felt lightheaded, as I swayed against him. “Is that…what you believe?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” he said, bringing my hand to his mouth and gently kissing it. “If we stick together, we can build something really fucking great.”

  Suddenly my chest filled with a profoundly intense feeling, like a warm and bright light, illuminating all of the dark places of my soul.

  I placed my chin on his shoulder and hugged him even tighter. “To honor her?”

  He nodded and then drew his head back to kiss my jaw. “And each other.”

  THANK YOU for reading REGRET!

  I hope you enjoyed it!

  Reviews help other readers find books. So if you feel compelled one way or another to leave a sentence or two on a retail site, I appreciate it!

  Read on to view a short excerpt from THE FAINTEST SPARK, one of the five standalone books in my Roadmap to Your Heart book series.

  About the Author

  Once upon a time, Christina Lee lived in New York City and was a wardrobe stylist. She spent her days getting in cabs, shopping for photo shoots, eating amazing food, and drinking coffee at her favorite hangouts.

  Now she lives in the Midwest with her husband and son—her two favorite guys. She’s been a clinical social worker and a special education teacher. But it wasn't until she wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper that she realized she could turn the fairytales inside her head into the reality of writing fiction.

  She's addicted to lip balm, coffee, and kissing. Because everything is better with kissing.

  She writes MM Contemporary as well as Adult and New Adult Romance. She believes in happily-ever-afters for all, so reading and writing romance for everybody under the rainbow helps quench her soul.

  Where to Find Christina Lee

  My private Facebook reader/fan group: THE SWOON ROOM.

  A private Facebook Group with other MM romance authors: THE M/M DAILY GRIND

  Find me on INSTAGRAM.

  Visit my WEBSITE.

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  Acknowledgments

  To Stina, Riley, and Deb: Thank you for reading and offering your very constructive thoughts and ideas.

  To Rob and Jessie: For helping me navigate the world of hair styling and dog grooming.

  To Brian: For letting me borrow your name. LOL. I wish you much happiness in life.

  To Michelle: Thanks for helping me organize my release and saving me from being a hot mess. You are a gem!

  Nate, Keyanna, and Judy: Thank you for helping make the bones of my book strong and polished.

  To Greg and Evan, for not complaining when I have to disappear to work at odd hours of any random day. I don’t want to be in any other place in the world except right next to you, every single night.

  To my family and friends for your constant, unwavering support. I love you.

  To the amazing book bloggers and reviewers: please know that I appreciate all the work you do—all on your own dime—for the simple love of books.

  Last, to the readers: THANK YOU for taking a chance on my books and reaching out to talk to me about them. For an author, there may be no better feeling.

  An Excerpt from THE FAINTEST SPARK

  One Month Earlier

  Malachi

  Sawyer stood across the room with a haunted look in his eye, a shaky hand raking through his hair, wet from the shower.

  “Spoke to Fish—it’s all taken care of.” My voice startled him out of his trance, and his fingers worked to adjust the large shirt across his shoulders. I had lent him some clean clothes from the extras I kept at the compound, and though they didn’t exactly fit his smaller frame, it was better than the visual reminder of the terrible night we’d just had. “It’s over now, yeah? ’Bout time you got some rest.”

  He shivered, his arms wrapping around his midsection. I took a step forward unable to curb my protective instinct. I’d gotten to know Sawyer through this ordeal and understood how much it had taken out of him. He’d shown up in weeks past with a similarly troubled look in his eyes—once after a particularly brutal night with Jake the Snake. I didn’t know what went on between them, didn’t particularly want to, but one thing was certain—that bastard didn’t deserve to breathe the same air.

  And now he never would again.

  “I won’t…I can’t…” he muttered, turning away from me. He wanted to appear strong and I got it. But he had assisted his club in bringing down the Asylum and in the process helped the Disciples exact revenge as well. I could never repay what he did for us, and though Smoke and Vaughn didn’t quite understand all the shit he put up with to nail that bastard, they would soon enough if I had anything to do with it.

  Just not tonight. Tonight, we needed to lay low. We’d definitely feel the effects for weeks to come.

  “Shhhh…” I closed the distance between us, not caring how it’d look to anybody who might walk in. I was consoling one of our own. He might’ve been from another club, and he might’ve been a man, but at that moment I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  My fingers curved around the back of his neck, snapping him out of his stupor.

  Sawyer stared directly into my eyes, and I wasn’t sure what he saw right then, but maybe I provided an anchor for him because his shoulders unwound just a fraction. His gaze briefly trave
led down to my lips before sliding back to my eyes, and fuck if that didn’t stir the faintest spark inside me. I didn’t understand what it meant, but I felt the need to pull him into my arms and comfort him. Make it all better.

  “It’ll be okay, yeah?” I said around a parched throat. “Come’ere.”

  When I tugged him toward me, his head sank to my shoulder. I could feel his warm and heavy breaths through the material of my shirt as my heart jackhammered in my chest.

  “You were good. So good.” Almost felt like I was talking to a child, but I knew he needed this. Sure, Sawyer was only fifteen years my junior, but he probably wouldn’t get this from his own prez. Fish had enough to deal with, and I didn’t get the sense that he understood the gravity—let alone the ramifications this’d had on Sawyer. Especially given his family history.

  I felt the wetness from his lashes against my neck before he sucked in a breath, and his lips came to rest against my throat. My jaw clenched as a shiver traveled through me.

  Yanking himself away, he swiped once at his eyes and squared his shoulders. “I uh, should go find Fish.”

  “Not tonight,” I replied with more force than I meant to. “He knows you’re here with us. Let’s get you to bed. You’re in no shape to be on your bike.”

  His eyes traveled over my shoulder to the single mattress in the corner. He glanced at me, to the closed door, and finally nodded as if deciding he’d be safe. As he padded toward the cool sheets, I reached for the whiskey bottle I had brought in just moments before. I screwed open the lid and filled the two shot glasses on the side table.