HARDPRESSED (Ocean Falls Trilogy Book 1)

by Peyton Storm

  He chuckled and ran both hands aggressively through his disheveled hair. It was a move that had the majority of the female student body tripping over themselves back in high school. But I recognized it for what it really was: a nervous tick of his when he wasn’t exactly feeling comfortable in his own skin.

  For a split second, I considered reaching up to still his hands, but then I remembered. Not my problem anymore.

  “You see, Belle,” he began, “I’m the fuck wit who handed his girl over. I pushed her onto another guy just to prove that I could and pissed away all that we had. I’m a fucking asshole. A selfish, arrogant prick who let some guy fuck his girl. But falling in love with that other guy afterward? Oh no, that was all Presley’s doing, wasn’t it, sweetheart? And then to have his bastard kid, too?!”

  I’m not a violent person but no one, and I do mean no one, speaks ill of my child. I struck him without thought, and a grotesque popping sound filled the air in my otherwise quiet, tiny living room. His eyes grew wide when blood sprayed across his face and shirt.

  “You broke my nose,” he sputtered in disbelief. There might even have been pride and amusement there. Only Greyson would find any kind of bright spot in such a messed up situation.

  I ran to the kitchen for a dish towel, and when I pressed it hard against his face, forcing him down to the couch, I made sure to let him where I stood. “I’m not sorry,” I announced and grabbed his hand to replace mine in holding the towel to his nose.

  He flinched at the pressure but took hold of my wrist when I began to pull away. His head was tilted back, and while the towel covered most of his face, I could see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and hear the amusement in his muffled, “You shouldn’t be. Thank you.” I knew he wanted to say more, but Belle interrupted us with a wrapped bag of frozen corn and once again, I was thankful for her.

  “Dude. Your nose.” Observant, that one. Belle didn’t even try to hide her disgust at the sight of all the blood. “So, can you drive? Do we call 911 or…?” Greyson sighed and started to stand, but I put my hand to his shoulder, and pressed him back down. I knew what had to be done and what couldn’t be done.

  Greyson Thomas wasn’t just some guy. The sleazy photographers would salivate at the chance of getting this money shot. He looked like hell, like he had been in yet another one of his infamous bar fights. His image was tarnished enough as it was, by his own doing, but this...I couldn’t let him go down for this. His nose was definitely broken, and he likely had a mild concussion to boot.

  “Give me your phone.”

  He frowned at my demand and mumbled, “No.”

  I didn’t have time for his stubbornness. “How many fingers am I holding up?” I challenged.

  His eyes crinkled again before he answered, “Purple.”

  Smartass.

  I grabbed his phone anyway and cursed when he wouldn’t give me the pin. I tried everything from his mother’s birthday, his own, even by combining his jersey numbers since he started playing ball. Nothing. In one last-ditch effort, I punched in my own birthday, and my breath caught in my throat when the screen lit up and came to life. I let it go for now and made the call.

  I glanced up in time to see Belle come down the hallway from Paisley’s room, and she gave me a thumb’s up. My little bug was still asleep and none the wiser. I mouthed, “Thank you,” and glanced at the clock on the wall above the couch. I had less than two hours to do damage control, or else it was going to be like high school all over again with Greyson and Chip having a pissing contest in the middle of my living room.

  Maybe I should have been the one to answer the soft knock at the door ten minutes later. Then again, that would have meant leaving Belle alone with Greyson, and let’s face it, that could only have ended badly. After Greyson left me, I did everything in my power not to think about his life or his pending NFL career, let alone who his agent may or may not have been. The person now standing in my doorway being given the third degree by my best friend didn’t exactly scream agent.

  He was a mountain of a man whose rich, chestnut hair stood on end. It was a tell-tale sign he’d panicked when his meal ticket had gotten loose. Typical. What wasn’t typical was the giant grocery store bakery cake he held in his arms with balloons to boot.

  “You got the wrong house, Slick.”

  Belle’s fist sat firmly at her hip, and I knew that regardless of his size, he wasn’t getting an inch further without some intervention from me.

  “Belle.” I used a look to plead with her not to make the situation any more difficult than it already was. She pursed her lips, gave him another once over, and pulled the door open just a bit further to allow him entry. He read the realization that must have been painted across my face before he even had a chance to speak a word. It was a cover. A cover, just in case the paparazzi were lurking outside.

  I steadied my voice just enough to introduce myself and to gather that he was indeed Dax, Greyson’s manager. Inside, I tensed and cursed, yet again, under my breath. Paparazzi. God, what had I gotten myself into? And more importantly, what had I gotten Peanut into? Thank God her dad would be along shortly to pick her up. One crisis at a time.

  Belle took the cake from Dax and headed towards the kitchen. I had a pretty good guess of what his reaction would be when he saw what kind of shape Greyson was in, and so I brought up my index finger and nodded to the darkened hallway towards where Paisley was still fast asleep.

  Greyson was exactly how I’d left him, for the most part anyway. His long legs were still stretched out as far as my chipped oak coffee table would allow. His head was thrown back against the cushions, but the rag barely hung to the bridge of his nose as he had passed out, yet again. His arms hung limp at his sides.

  “Fuck,” Dax grumbled as he tiptoed around the small room for a better look. “Hopefully it isn’t broken, but damn girl, you’re awfully small to be landing punches like that.”

  Ass.

  Before I could defend myself, and my size for that matter, Belle rejoined us with an observation of her own. “We don’t do any whipped bullshit ‘round these parts, Slick. Always opt for the buttercream. Always. I mean, I’m still gonna eat it though. Just sayin’. What’d I miss?”

  What do you say to that? For a few hard count seconds, the only sound in the room was that of Greyson’s snore. Dax finally decided to blink and stumbled through his apologies for the ill-advised icing selection, and just like that, I had become the third wheel in my own living room.

  Chapter 8

  Presley

  Dax was clearly amused, if not baffled, by my best friend. And Belle, well, she was just being Belle. As much as I would have liked to pop some corn and settle in for the show, I had a small crisis developing and needed all hands on deck. I cleared my throat only to have two sets of eyes swing towards me as if they had forgotten I was even there. Interesting. Interesting indeed.

  Belle offered to make coffee. That, at least, was a start. “You like yours black, Slick?”

  He could hardly hide his smirk as he agreed, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Belle produced a smirk of her own. “Mmhmm, thought so.”

  God.

  Less than 15 minutes later, Dax had placed a call that led yet another stranger to my home. When I opened the door, he stood there, all smiles with a canvas shopping bag with a large bag of pretzels threatening to spill out of the top. Dax’s idea, I was sure. The second I closed the door behind him, all pretense was dropped as he tossed the snacks aside to retrieve a dark brown, leather bag and set to his patient.

  Greyson had woken but remained oddly quiet and subdued. It wasn’t like him, and suddenly the severity of the situation settled upon my shoulders. The three men huddled together with hushed voices. Whether it was out of respect for my sleeping daughter or to keep Belle and I out of the loop, I didn’t know. What I did know was that I was dead on my feet.

&
nbsp; The day had taken its toll, and even though I knew better, aside from a grilled cheese sandwich and a few beers with Belle, I hadn’t put anything in my system since the protein shake and half of a banana I had scarfed down on my way to the studio to meet the Parks’. I needed food and sleep. I needed this day to be over and for life to go back to normal. One thing at a time.

  I lifted my head, which had been buried in my hands, and let my tired eyes adjust a bit before attempting to stand. I hadn’t quite made it when a mild wave of dizziness had me swaying on my feet. It passed quickly, but that didn’t stop a strong set of arms from scooping me up and pinning me to an even stronger chest.

  He smelled exactly the same. Spruce with a hint of lavender. When I arched my neck to meet his gaze, I was met with the blaring signs of the damage I had caused. His nose had been stitched and taped. Startling purple bruises had already started to form underneath his eyes. Even as I squirmed to be put down, he continued to cradle me with one arm as he rummaged through my kitchen cabinets and refrigerator. Seemingly satisfied, he dropped me onto the counter and brought a carton of orange juice to my lips.

  “Drink.”

  The dizziness had passed, but Greyson was like a dog with a bone; it would have been pointless to fight him on it. As soon as he was satisfied, he pulled the carton away and followed it with a spoon full of peanut butter. He pressed it to my bottom lip and urged, “Open.” For just that moment, it was like old times. He remembered.

  I peered up at him as I took his offering. His jaw was taught, his eyes heated. Someone cleared their throat to break whatever it was brewing between us, and for that, I was grateful.

  Greyson didn’t step away. Instead, his eyes pierced me deeper, and I could all but taste the words on the tip of his tongue. Only he wouldn’t let them fall. He turned away and exited my tiny kitchen, but not before rolling his shoulders, which I remembered was a sign of his anxiety and unease. Good. So it hadn’t been just me then.

  I could feel Belle’s eyes on me, and the very second I turned to her, her brows shot up. “Well then,’’ she murmured but said no more.

  We walked back to the living room to find the doctor had already made his exit. Greyson and Dax were nose to nose in a quiet, yet seemingly heated debate. Having felt our presence, they both snapped their gazes in our direction. In the back of my exhausted mind, I knew that somehow, it was about to get worse. Determined and defiant, Greyson announced, “I’m not leaving,” daring any of the three of us to say otherwise.

  What the fuck?

  Chapter 9

  Greyson

  What the fuck was I doing? How had I gone from not wanting to be in Texas at all to refusing to leave the home of my high school fling? Okay, fine, love of my life. Even so, what the fuck? In all of our time together, all the shit I had put her through, never, ever had she hit me. Baby packed a punch and fuck if it didn’t take all I had not to ask for another.

  Dax and Doc had concocted the illusion of a party going on just in case some asshole trying to land an internship with that trash TV sports show was hiding in the bushes across the street. Clever, yet doubtful. There had been nothing and no one of note when I had landed after all. If I left right then, with the help of a conveniently blown porchlight, maybe I could make my escape without my now fucked up face being on display. Even though I thought it was a bit much, it at least made sense.

  But as I rose to my feet, Pres swayed on hers. In high school, I kept a stash for her. A jar of peanut butter in my locker and a box of her favorite chickpea crackers that I refused to admit were my absolute favorite stayed in my Jeep. Pres didn’t do the chick thing where she only ate twigs and berries. No, she would plow through a ribeye with the best of them. She did, however, forget. Between classes, cheerleading, and dance, plus her part-time job at the local rec center and keeping up with the home she shared with her dad, sometimes there just weren’t enough hours in the day and in true Presley fashion, if anything at all was to go without, it would be her. More times than not, my ‘love you’ texts would include ‘did you eat?’

  Stubborn girl…my girl. Some things never change.

  She’d only fainted once back then. That one time though, had shaved a good ten years off my lifespan. I hadn’t let her fall then, and I wouldn’t let her fall now. Even though my intentions were good, pure even, it didn’t stop my body from reacting to the sight, feel, and scent of hers.

  Presley had been a beautiful girl; as a woman, she was stunning. I still held a deep-rooted resentment towards her, yet my heart pounded against my chest at the feel of her and the way her body still molded to mine, perfect.

  As I searched her kitchen for something, anything that would even her out, I stole a little something just for me. Her hair had always been my undoing. I didn’t need to bury my nose into those winding curls to know they would smell of coconut, and yet I did so anyway. She felt it, too. I knew she did, and when she looked up at me, my balls all but shriveled up and ascended back into my body. In her eyes, I saw pity. She had, after all, just kicked my ass, and so for a split second, I felt self-conscious.

  I was never the pretty boy on campus. No, that title belonged to that other asshole. Still, she had chosen me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had any remaining effect on her whatsoever. Instead, for once, I put her first.

  “Open.” And when she did, God.

  Just before I managed to embarrass myself further, her friend created just enough of a distraction for me to take my leave from the kitchen and rejoin Dax back in her living room.

  I wasn’t man enough to tell Dax the real reason I wanted to stay. For whatever reason, he still stuck by me and put up with my shit. He wouldn’t understand, though. Hell, I couldn’t really make sense of it my damned self.

  What was it that I was seeking? Maybe I just needed to look at her a bit longer. Maybe I needed to hear her voice a bit longer, bottle it for another drunken night. Maybe I wanted a knockdown, drag-out fight where we would take turns ripping one another’s hearts out with our truths and confessions. Whatever my reasons, I knew this was my one and only shot, and that if I walked out her door at that moment, it would slam shut behind me. Forever. Of that, I was certain.

  It was possible that I was mildly concussed, and my nose was fucked all to be damned, but I wanted more. Whatever she had left in her, I would take it. The shit would be done, complete, and I could finally put the past where it belonged.

  Dax continued to argue with me, and I didn’t have to look to Pres to know she was still staring at me, wide-eyed, mouth agape, but too exhausted to fight me on it. For the time being, at least. It was a dick move on my part, I knew that. I even told myself that once I said my peace, she would be rid of me forever.

  Finally, with a heavy sigh of frustration, Dax gave in and, surprisingly, helped me sell my stance to Presley. Bad press. Presley always loved more than she should, and even though she would just as soon roast my balls, she didn’t want my career to tank. It wouldn’t matter the reasoning. Even one grainy pic from a distance would set off a firestorm in the media. I wasn’t sure what would be worse: the assumption I had been in yet another bar fight or the truth of my having my ass handed to me by my ex-girlfriend who weighed maybe, just maybe, a buck twenty-five, on a good day.

  Once Dax was done, things grew silent. Not one word from any of us. He took that as his cue to exit but not before pinning me with that hard stare of his.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Dax grumbled. He knew me all too well, but hell if I would give him the satisfaction of admitting it. The sound of Weezy stirring in the driveway drew my attention to her living room window. The sun had begun to rise, and I was struck by its beauty. It had been years since I watched the sun come up. If memory served, and fuck it always did, the last time I caught a glimpse of the sun rising, I had been balls deep with Presley writhing beneath me as she raked her fingers through the sand…

 
Presley

  He couldn’t be serious. Why? Why on Earth was he doing this to me? There’s nothing to rehash, no questions left dangling in the air. Especially now that he had met Peanut.

  Peanut…oh, God. I glanced at the time, and panic began to set in. I looked to Belle, and even she seemed to be at a loss for words. I was ready to force him out by any means necessary. Whatever his reasoning, the fallout afterward just wasn’t my problem.

  He stood at the window, his hands dug deep into his pockets. He gazed out at the sky, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he truly saw anything at all. He seemed a million miles away. I kept my distance, transfixed. I was never truly able to get into his head back then, let alone now.

  I found myself holding my breath when he finally turned back towards me. Time had a habit of standing still when we shared a space, and even with so many years between us, some things never changed. Neither of us heard the purr of the Audi pulling into my drive, nor the soft wrapping of knuckles before my front door pried open with a nearly silent click.

  “Sorry I’m early darlin’, but I brought your favorite!”

  Carter always did know how to make an entrance. Not one inky strand out of place. He was clean-shaven to accentuate his sharp features, and his designer clothes hugged his swimmer’s body in all the right places. His hands were full with a couple of lattes and a bag of pastries. His bright smile faltered when he spotted us, and his eyes cut to mine, but before I could open my mouth to try and explain, tiny footsteps came thundering down the hallway.

  Carter had just enough time to sit the bag on the bar before Paisley launched herself into his arms.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” she squealed, though clearly still half asleep.

  She nuzzled against him as he held her close. She was his entire world. No matter our history, the sight of the two of them would always melt my heart. No regrets; he was an amazing father. And sweet Peanut was oblivious to the tension in the room.