Closer to You (Grindstone Harbor, #1)

by Cat Mason

  An ambulance pulls in and the next hour is complete chaos. Bristol and Tanner are assessed and treated on scene, both of them refusing to go to the hospital. While Bristol gives Morgan her statement, I can barely contain my anger as she explains, in excruciating detail, what that piece of shit did to her.

  Moments after she finishes, they bring Payne out on a stretcher, wearing an oxygen mask. With a gunshot wound, and possible head and spinal injuries due to Moo drop kicking him down the stairs like some canine ninja, he definitely got his ass handed to him. Moo sits up, watching the stretcher as it passes by us, as if taunting the fucker. That’s my dog. Lucky for Payne, he doesn’t say shit, or he is heavily sedated. I can’t really tell. Either way, I don’t think there is any one of us standing here, at this point, who doesn’t wish a motherfucker would just so we could finish him off and save the EMTs the trip and paperwork.

  Since no one is too thrilled about staying in the house tonight, and the police aren’t finished, I invite them to crash at mine. It isn’t like there was any other option in my mind, there was no way Bristol was sleeping anywhere tonight other than in my bed, beside me. I also knew that keeping everyone close was going to help ease some of the worry going on inside her head. Evan and Greer stay behind, vowing to become shadows lurking over Morgan as he conducts his investigation, determined not to let him miss anything.

  Showing Quinn and the guys around quickly, I leave them to get settled in for the night. Quinn hasn’t let go of Tanner’s hand since they finished bandaging him up. Her face still colorless and her eyes distant. Instead of heading to the spare bedroom, he sits on the sofa, curling her into him. Wrapping her arms around him, she buries her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she weeps.

  Taking Bristol’s hand, I lead her up the stairs. “This is my room,” I tell her, opening the door and flipping on the light. “Bathroom is over there,” I say pointing to the closed door on the opposite side of the room. Moo yawns, stretching his long body dramatically before hopping onto my bed. Knocking pillows to the floor, and pawing the blankets, he sprawls out in the center, making himself comfortable.

  They’ll be no living with him and his giant ego now.

  Bristol scans the room, her eyes landing on the mirror hanging above my dresser. Letting out a strangled cry, she brings her fingers to her face as she moves closer. Brushing her swollen cheekbone, she winces, hissing out a breath through gritted teeth. Her eyes drop to her blood covered shirt; instantly all the color drains from her face. “Oh God. I’m gonna be sick.” Covering her mouth, she heaves, bolting for the bathroom.

  Moving quickly behind her, I gather her hair in my hand as she empties her stomach into the toilet. “It’s okay, baby,” I soothe, rubbing her back with my free hand.

  Closing the lid, she sits back on her heels. Yanking her shirt over her head, she tosses it in the trash, relief filling her face when she sees no blood on the black tank she was wearing beneath it. Her eyes close as she takes slow, deep breaths. Grabbing a washcloth from the shelf beside the sink, I run it beneath the tap and kneel in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice so quiet that I almost miss it.

  I curse under my breath. Carefully dabbing the damp cloth over her cheeks and forehead, I shake my head. “What in the hell do you have to be sorry for, Bristol?” I ask in disbelief. “None of this was your fault.”

  Opening her eyes, her lips quirk up in a sad smile. “I’m sorry that I lashed out at you; that I pushed you away. God,” she groans, yanking her hands through her hair. “I was so upset over what that damn photographer was spewing that I couldn’t see beyond it and hear you. I went into defense mode, retreating back behind those walls I put up, because it felt safer there.”

  “Babe.”

  “Then,” she interrupts me, holding up her finger to silence me. “After you left, I sat for hours staring at the photos of us online and reading the articles. When the spotlight is focused on you, picking apart aspects of your life with a fine tooth comb, it makes you realize when something has been missing.” Tossing the cloth to the sink, I cover her hands with mine. “I was packing, working up the nerve to tell E that I wanted to leave. Then I went downstairs and, well, you know what happened next.”

  “Yeah,” I nod, giving her hands a squeeze. The idea that she was actually packing is like a punch in the gut.

  Rolling her shoulders, she takes a deep breath.

  “The only way you leave me, my love, is in a body bag,” she says, shaking her head. “That was what he said to me. I honestly thought he was going to kill me. He would have if Moo hadn’t broken in to steal Evan’s snack cakes and crash in one of the beds,” she chokes out.

  “Babe, it’s okay.” My voice cracks, as a tear slips down her face. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes,” she argues, “I do.” Taking a deep breath, she continues. “When he told me that.” Huffing out a laugh, she shakes her head. “I was utterly terrified, but not only because I was afraid to die.” Turning in my arms, she meets my eyes, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I was scared that I’d never see you again. That I had most likely blown it with you, and now I was going to die without getting a chance to tell you how sorry I was.”

  “You honestly think I could’ve let you go?” I ask her. “I think that we both said a lot of things we didn’t mean. Neither of us were in the right frame of mind for listening to what the other was trying to say. Even if you had managed to leave before we were able to talk this out,” I say, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. “I’d have booked the first available flight and been waiting on you in your driveway. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, Bristol, but I refuse to live with regrets. I’d rather fight for your heart and fail, than spend the rest of my life wondering what we could’ve had together had we taken the chance. It may be hard, I fucking guarantee it will be. We will fight, and we will make up. I won’t even pretend that I won’t say and do stupid shit, probably on the hour like a cuckoo clock. We may even drive each other crazy,” I shrug, winking at her. “But let’s face it, you like my crazy, baby.”

  “Your level of awkwardness is pretty sexy,” she admits, giving me a hint of a smile.

  “Babe,” I warn, cupping her cheek. Leaning into my touch, she nuzzles my palm, her eyes drifting closed. “I really need to kiss you right now. But, I’m willing to bet that your mouth tasting like whatever it is you hurled into my toilet, is just enough of the right kind of nasty to ruin the moment.”

  Nodding in agreement, her smile spreads. “How about, while I clean up, you go get the dog of the fucking year some snack cakes?”

  “Deal.” Pushing to my feet, I scrub a hand over my face. Bristol beams at me, her smile melting my heart. Heading out of the room, I shake my head at the lump of snoring canine in my bed. Tonight, I have never been so thankful for the rabid barking beach cow and his insatiable appetite for snack food that led him to be at the right place at the right time. Moo officially has my stamp of approval to be a lazy, destructive asshole, and eat whatever the fuck he wants out of my kitchen cabinets, for the rest of his life.

  Tomorrow, I will also install dog doors on both houses.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Unicorns and Motherfucking Rainbows

  Bristol

  Wanting to wash away as much of this day as I can, I jump in the shower. I am sore all over and covered in bruises, but I am alive. Toweling off, I shrug on one of Tage’s t-shirts and comb my hair out with my fingers. Digging through Tage’s medicine cabinet, I manage to find an unopened toothbrush. Looking in the mirror, I take stock of my face now that I have a minute to myself.

  My face looks like a train wreck. The gashes on my cheek and lip sting every time I speak, and basically the entire right side of my face is bruised and swollen. Those don’t count the bruises peppered up and down my arms, legs, and one side of my ribcage.

  “You look about as bad as I feel.”

  Turning, I meet Evan’s eyes as he walks into the
bedroom. “Hey,” I say, holding up my fists. “If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy.”

  “Don’t make a joke out of this,” he scolds, exhaling harshly. “I fucked up. You could’ve been killed tonight, Bristol. You should be fucking furious with me. If I were you I’d fire my ass.”

  “Why the hell for?” I ask, stepping into the bedroom. “You didn’t mean for this to happen, Evan. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, except the crazy bastard wielding the goddamn gun at me. Speaking of which,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “I’m going to have to ask you to get rid of yours. I’ve had about all the guns and bullets that I can stand for the rest of my life.”

  “Actually,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I came up here to apologize and make sure you’re okay, but I also wanted you to hear this straight from me.” Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders. “I already called and left Vicki a message with my resignation. I can stay until they find someone else, but—”

  “Oh I don’t even fucking think so, asshole. Like hell you are going to walk in here and quit on me,” I interrupt him, shoving at his chest with both hands. “Consider your resignation denied, dickhead. You wanna go off and be a showgirl in Vegas or go direct side show porn, have at it, skippy. I’ll root you on and buy front row seats to every show. I will not support you being a little whinny bitch over the fact that something happened out of our control. Now,” I say, pulling a Quinn, and jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “We are going to pretend this conversation never happened. You’re going to call icky Vicki back and tell her you were smoking crack. You tell her that it’s all gravy now because I took the pipe away. While you do that, I’m going to look up a tattoo shop and book you an appointment. I’m even paying!” I say excitedly, clapping my hands together. “Unicorns and motherfucking rainbows.”

  “The fuck?” he asks, his eyes widening.

  “You lost a bet, my dirty little cockwomble,” I remind him, jabbing him again. “As for the whole quitting thing. It isn’t even an option. Honestly, E. You’re stuck with me. Just face it, accept it, and let’s move on. Mmmkay?”

  “I love you, B. You’re like my sister. Fuck,” he groans, wincing at his own words. “I would hate having a sister. You’re my person. The woman I am not in any way sexually attracted to, but can’t function without her constantly nagging in my fucking ear.”

  “Thanks. I think,” I huff, sarcastically, shoving him.

  Wrapping his arms around me, he kisses the top of my head. “I have never been as fucking scared as I was tonight. My black heart can’t take something like that happening again.”

  “Deal,” I reply, hugging him back. “Now, I believe you have a phone call to make and shit. I’m so glad we could have this little chat where you admit that I am always right, and your heart is secretly big, and red, and filled with all the feels. If you ask me, it’s been long overdue.”

  “I quit,” he blurts, letting me go. “I’m going to Vegas to be a showgirl.”

  “E?” I ask, when he starts to leave. Stopping in the doorway, he meets my eyes. “I love you too, you big whore.”

  “Goodnight, asshole,” he chuckles, flipping me off.

  “Night, Chesty Montana. I can’t wait to see those high kicks!”

  Tage walks into the room, carrying a tray full of snacks and a couple sodas. “Is there something I need to know about, Evan?” he asks, arching a brow. Sitting the tray on the bed, he pulls me into his arms.

  “Evan dreams of being a showgirl,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Chesty Montana?” he asks, his lips twitching with amusement.

  “Chesty Montana,” I nod.

  Tage laughs, the sound making my heart skip a beat. Looking up at him, I smile, unbelievably happy with what I see before me. Covering my mouth with his, he kisses me with slow, teasing flicks of his tongue, causing my toes to curl into the rug beneath my feet.

  Life may throw things at me that I won’t know how to handle, and the media will always spin lies into the pieces of truth they are able to capture in photos, but I won’t have to go through it alone. I know, without a doubt, that the man who holds my heart, also has my back.

  The crinkling of a wrapper, has Tage pulling back. “Ugh,” he groans as we look at the bed and see Moo diving face first into the tray of food. Crushed chips cover the white comforter around Moo who is inhaling a Twinkie still inside the wrapper. “There goes our mattress picnic.”

  Pressing my cheek to Tage’s chest, I watch Moo enjoy the picnic for three. Looking up at Tage, I give him a thumbs up. “Nice.”

  This is only the beginning...

  Epilogue

  My P Word Caught the P Word

  Bristol

  Two Months Later

  “You sure everything looks good?” Tage asks, nervously adjusting the roller skates on the shelving units that were installed earlier this morning.

  “Babe, it looks amazing. All the kids lining up outside will love it,” I reply, dropping down onto one of the padded benches that line the walls. “Stop worrying.”

  “I can’t help it. I want everything to be perfect.”

  Tage begins pacing like an expectant father, making me giggle. He is cute when he is so worked up. Bob and Tage have been planning the re-opening for the last few weeks, and Tage has been counting it down as if it were his own personal Christmas. Every spare minute we have had, has been spent here working on restoring this place to its former glory. Knowing how important All the Rage is to my man, I was more than happy to dive in and get my hands dirty.

  I mean, I have been known to enjoy a couples’ skate here from time to time myself...

  After a little persuading on my part, and another roller rink blow job, those horrifying dancing dinosaur murals have now been replaced with a more fabulous theme. Thanks to my brilliant mind, and some expensive fucking designer that Quinn and I found online, the walls are now painted black and red. Gold and silver music notes and vintage looking records with titles of classic rock songs painted on each one, give the place more of a timeless, badass feel, instead of something that nightmares are made of. The place looks nothing like the mess it was when Tage first brought me here months ago.

  “This place has never looked so good,” Bob says, rounding the concessions stand. “I couldn’t have done it without you two.”

  “It was way more Tage’s doing than mine, Bob,” I say, waving him off.

  Being that he enjoyed spending so much of his childhood here, Tage put together a roller hockey league that has become so popular, it had to be branched off into multiple age divisions. The best part of it all was when we had the first girl sign up. When the ten-year-old came in with pigtails and bright pink Converse, I was ecstatic! Not only did I handle her paperwork personally, but as soon as she left, I grabbed my laptop and ordered her all new gear with my credit card. Ava Bridges is going to be covered in pink and silver from head to toe and I can’t fucking wait to watch her kick some ass.

  With all the excitement, it didn’t take me long to realize that I couldn’t possibly miss all of this. So I took it upon myself to make sure we get to stick around Grindstone Harbor on a more permanent-ish basis. Being that I had a hell of a guilt trip worthy tirade for Vicki and Brenda after Chris nearly fucking killed me, I managed to get Frayed Edge Records to agree to book a studio only an hour away for us to record the new album instead of their headquarters back in Los Angeles.

  “Can I let them in yet?” Evan asks, peeking inside the door. “These ankle biters are lined halfway around the block waving their money in the air like I do when it’s half price night at the Lap Dance Palace.”

  “Way to be child appropriate, fucknut!” I shout, clapping a hand over my mouth. “Oops,” I mutter into my palm.

  “Five o’clock on the dot!” Bob shouts, messing with the stereo system. “I’ve got to find my blasted Couple’s Skate Mix.”

  “Actually,” I beam, pushing to my feet. “I made you a new one. Some of th
e old classics mixed with some new stuff that the kids will like too. My IPOD is already in the dock. All you gotta do is press play.”

  “Watch yourself, Crosby,” Bob says, pointing at Tage. “I’ll swoop right in when you’re not lookin’ and steal that woman right out from under your nose.”

  “Such a dog,” I laugh, blowing Bob a kiss. “What would Maudette think if you ran off with me?”

  “She’d think about turnin’ my side of the walk-in closet into a shoe rack,” he chuckles, catching my kiss and giving me a wink.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. Yanking it free, I swipe the screen. “Quinn, where the hell are you?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “I thought the whole point of you wanting to be a part of the Grand Opening was that you’d actually be here when it opens.”

  “Bristol,” she chokes out, her voice cracking.

  “Quinn? What’s wrong, babe?” I ask, my eyes moving to Tage. “Are you okay?”

  “Fuck no, I’m not okay!” she shouts, making me jump. “I’m fucking pregnant.”

  “You’re what?” I shout. Pulling the phone from my ear, I stare at the screen as if I expect it to do something. Putting it back to my ear, I groan. “The fuck did you just say?”

  “I’m pregnant. You know? Knocked the fuck up. His penis-cillin was fully loaded. We have a baby batter breach. My ‘p’ word caught the ‘p’ word!”

  “Did you make a list of that shit before you called me?” I ask, shaking my head. “How the fuck did that happen?”

  “Really?” she deadpans. “I think we both know how it happened.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, dropping back down to the bench seat. “I’m shocked.”

  “You and me both, bitch,” she fires back, sighing heavily. “What the fuck am I going to do? Tanner is going to fucking blow a gasket when he finds out.”

  “Tanner?” I ask, confused. “Why the fuck should he care?”