Because of the Dark: A Dark Standalone Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 4)

by Danah Logan

Now, that was my girl.

  It took until the sun rose behind the skyline surrounding her apartment before I was done. The longer I spoke, the calmer—no, not calm, numb—I felt. Was I in shock?

  Oddly enough, Den didn't lose it as I had expected—like when I first told her who King was. She finally handed the bottle back over at one point, and we were in a similar state as three years ago—minus the urge to fuck my best friend. How could I? The only woman my body had craved in six months was several states away and pregnant with my child. Heaviness settled in my bones, replacing the numbness. As much as I welcomed the ability to feel, I was tired. From the lies, the betrayal, from fighting my way out of the hole I kept finding myself in.

  "I have no idea what to say, Wes." She was sad.

  "That's a first, BK. Help me figure out what to do?" I begged. I had no clue.

  Her hand landed on my thigh. "Dude, this is beyond fucked up."

  "More than what Lilly—"

  "Different fucked up." She had her legs tucked underneath herself on the couch, her body angled toward me.

  We stared at each other for a long time when I said the three words I wished were not true. "I love her."

  Her mouth was in a thin line. "I know."

  "What if I can't move past this?" I confess. One moment, I thought I could, then anger slowly seeped through my veins like venom. She was Gray's daughter. She ran away with my baby. Would she have told me about it eventually?

  Den remained mute.

  Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, it was past six in the morning. Den slapped my knee. "Let's get some sleep. We can form a plan when we're both sober and I don't feel like throwing up."

  I smirked at her greenish tint, but nodded in resignation. I couldn't come up with a solution in this state anyway.

  Den slowly pushed herself up. "Ugh, I'm going to regret this later." She swayed on her feet, and I held on to her hips to steady her.

  "Thanks."

  I watched her make her way to her bedroom, shoulder sliding along the wall. Instead of going to the spare room, I let my body fall sideways and closed my eyes.

  This will do.

  "—the fuck, babe?"

  Huh?

  "No, you let me talk."

  Jeez, my head hurts.

  "How could you do this? You knew about her all this ti—" Den whisper-shouted somewhere in the apartment.

  I remained still on my back, fully aware that if I moved too fast, I would throw up on D's expensive rug. Plus, I wanted to hear where this conversation went.

  "I get that she is not her father. That's not the point."

  Pause.

  "Babe," D growled. She was getting pissed. "No, you listen, Lilly. You fucked up. Wes is passed out on my couch. You have no idea how many times I've seen him like this since your dumbass fiancé pulled his stunt. And now this? How could you not tell him? King is FUCKING PREGNANT." She got louder, and suddenly, her head appeared out of her bedroom door, looking straight at me.

  I saluted her. Yup, heard it all.

  "Shit. Hold on." She dropped the phone from her ear and slumped into the living room.

  "You look like shit," I remarked, maneuvering myself upright while consciously monitoring my puke radar.

  "Have you looked in the mirror this morning, asshole?"

  "You're always so polite when you're hungover." I couldn't muster getting pissed at her; I already had too many emotions battling it out inside my mind.

  "Hellooo?" Lilly's tiny voice came from the phone as D dropped down next to me. She pressed the speaker button.

  "We're here," Den barked. Man, she was livid.

  "Hey, Wes."

  "Liiil." A yawn made me draw out the I.

  "How are you doing, Wes?" Lilly's question was hesitant.

  "How do you think he's doing?" D wouldn't let me get a word out.

  "I can talk for myself, BK."

  Her eyes widened, and I averted my gaze. Crap.

  I was about to open my mouth to answer Lilly when cold sweat began to cover every inch of my body. A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I clamped a hand over my mouth. Sprinting to the hall bathroom, I made it just in time before I expelled whatever was still in my stomach. The process repeated several times before I finally concluded that I had gotten everything out.

  "You need to stop drinking."

  I was on my back, feet flat on the bathroom floor. Den hovered above me, and her mouth was in a thin line. She didn't look angry, more concerned.

  When I didn't respond, she held her hand out, and I reached up, interlacing our fingers. She helped me to my feet, then guided me to sit on the rim of the tub. She wetted a washcloth, and when she started cleaning my still sweat-covered face, warmth spread through every part of my body. Closing my eyes, I let her do her thing. Could I have done it myself? Sure, but it felt good being taken care of.

  When she was done, she handed me the damp cloth. "Take a shower, and I'll order us hangover breakfast."

  "Still not much for cooking, I see," I teased her with one side of my mouth up in a lopsided—and tired—grin.

  She gently swatted the back of my head. "Not when it comes to cooking junk."

  I remained under the hot spray longer than necessary. Oh, the joy of never-ending hot water in D's fancy high-rise. Kai tended to be a girl when it came to bodily hygiene, and if we had to make it out of the house at the same time, I usually ended up showering cold. I pulled on a pair of sweats and a clean long-sleeve shirt and headed to D's living area.

  A spread of various food items covered her granite countertop.

  "I didn't know what you wanted, so I got a bunch of different options." She smiled at me with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "You look much better. Kai still steals the hot water?"

  I nodded, already having a massive bite of the breakfast burrito in my mouth.

  Den sat down next to me on her barstool, sipping on a cup of coffee. She wanted to say something, but every time she opened her mouth, she ended up lifting the mug to her lips instead.

  "What is it?" I mumbled, chewing.

  I watched her draw in a long breath before she looked at me steadily. "You need to check on King."

  Huh? My eyebrows shot up. That was the last thing I would've expected to come out of her mouth. All I could do was gape.

  She lectured, "This is your baby. You both were there when it happened. So, man up and take responsibility." Her earlier hesitation was replaced by sternness.

  Responsibility? What was happening here?

  "Whose side are you on?" I snapped, squishing my breakfast in my fist, splattering its insides across the plate. White-hot rage engulfed the tranquil peace she had provided me with earlier in the bathroom.

  Den ignored the mess, her sole focus on me. "You obviously didn't use protection, so…" She let go of her mug and splayed her arms wide in a "there you go" motion.

  Shit! The heat fizzled out, and my stomach lurched. I wasn't sure if it was from dealing with a hangover from hell or that she wanted me to talk to King. I waited for the familiar signals of betrayal. How dare she take King's side? But instead of the crushing sensation of being let down by my best friend, my shoulders sank.

  "I can't." My voice was a mere rasp.

  She put a hand on my thigh. "Yes, you can."

  How could she be so sure? I peered out her floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a perfect spring morning in the city. The sun was shining. The gray buildings appeared less dull. I glanced down at myself, engulfed in light. Shouldn't this feel…good? Yet, all there was, was a bone-chilling cold, as if the sky was covered in clouds. "Why?"

  A hand rubbed circles between my shoulder blades. "Lilly fucked up. I have your back on that. No questions asked." The rubbing stopped for a second. When it started back up, she went on, "But she is also right on one thing: King is not Gray. Our parents' actions don't define us unless we let them."

  I glanced sideways at her. "Our?"

  Den diverted. "From what you told me, she
is nothing like her father, but everything like her mother." She cocked her head. I was still hung up on the "our" but let it slide. Something told me she was not just referring to the current topic.

  "What am I supposed to say to her?" I needed help.

  She shrugged. "Ask her how the baby is doing, how she's feeling. Start small. It's the right thing to do."

  Fuck.

  It took me two more days to work up the courage to send her a text. Start small. All that went out the window when she let the gender slip. It was clear she didn't mean to when she answered my call.

  As soon as I heard her voice, my pulse started to race, and my hands became clammy. I wanted to hate her, hate her for who she was and that she ran, but at the same time, I couldn't. In the short time we spent together, she had become an irreplaceable part of my life. Little did I know back then how big of a part she would be. We would have a daughter together.

  During one of our conversations—and there were many over the few days I spent in New York—Den metaphorically backhanded me by saying, "You didn't give her a chance to tell you her side. You could've told this Kiwi dude or her roommate that you needed to get in touch with her."

  I was still convinced that something else was driving her sudden interest in pushing me toward King, but D wouldn't give anything away. She either dodged me or simply ignored me.

  She also declared that I would have to be sober from now on. No one would want a drunk for a father. Another slap in the face. She was right, though. I had let my circumstances become an excuse to drink myself into oblivion—either to forget or to not care that I wanted King…wanted her with every fiber of my being. Because when I was sober, I didn't allow myself to go there. Which was how I asked her to meet me to talk about logistics. Lo-fucking-gistics. As if my daughter was a shipment. Jesus, I almost asked D to punch me after that.

  In the end, Lilly punished me in a different manner, by making King her bodyguard's date.

  My fingers curl inward again as I watch D stare out the oval window into the dark. We took off after a two-hour delay and wouldn't be landing in Montana until eight.

  Just as the wheels touch down, my phone lights up.

  Rhys: We're at The Grizz.

  "What the fuck?"

  Den quirks an eyebrow at me, and I turn the screen toward her. I can't read her; she simply nods.

  My car is waiting for us in the long-term parking lot, as usual, and we drive straight to King's former place of employment. The former quickly gets scratched when we walk in, and my eyes zero in on my very pregnant (ex-)girlfriend behind the bar.

  Mags is on the other side, and the new girl is also there. King is reaching for a bottle on one of the higher shelves but can't get to it. An arm appears out of nowhere and hands it down. King swivels and beams at her helper. Following the arm to a face that is now smiling down at her with a gentleness I've never seen before, my vision turns a deep crimson. Marcus laughs at something King says and pulls her into a side hug.

  A growl builds in my throat, and I start forward.

  My bicep is suddenly in a vise grip. "Whoa, slow down."

  I jerk around and get into D's face. "Are you seeing this?" I point toward the bar with my free hand.

  She doesn't move away. I can't intimidate her. But she does let go of me and speaks calmly. "I am, but you told her that all you wanted was to be in your child's life, not hers."

  "So, she replaced me with Lilly's shadow?" my voice gets louder, and I'm starting to make a scene. A group next to us stops talking, and their entire focus is on us. My pulse is thrashing in my ears, and Den's reaction to the show in front of us pisses me off even more.

  "You guys made it." Rhys's overeager exclamation breaks our stare down, and D's eyes move behind me.

  She gives him a curt nod and walks past us to a table Lilly and Elle are currently occupying. Seems everyone is starting to get to town.

  Rhys opens his mouth, but I shoulder past him, aiming for the only person I have any interest in talking to.

  As if there haven’t been five months and two major secrets-slash-life events happen since the last time I saw her behind the bar, she senses my approach—that hasn't changed. Her eyes fly to mine, followed by her stepping out of Marcus's embrace. I shove my fists into the front pockets of my jeans in the hopes that I don't do anything stupid—like clock The Shadow. Marcus doesn't force her back into the hug, but he angles himself so that he shields King.

  As soon as I'm within earshot, I can't stop myself. "Really, Shadow?" I seethe. "You think I would hurt her?" A mix of sarcasm and rage forces me forward until I'm almost nose to nose with him.

  His exterior collected, he retorts, "With your recent track record of decisions, anything is—"

  There goes my intention not to punch the fucker.

  "Oh, my God!" King shrieks, but she ignores Marcus, who's cradling his jaw. Her whole attention is on me, her arms wrapped around herself.

  Marcus drops his hand from his jaw and starts forward when a small hand lands on his chest. He halts abruptly, and when he realizes who has dared to touch him, he dislodges her in one lightning-fast motion. His snarl is menacing, and even I'm briefly distracted from my own drama. "Don't ever lay a hand on me, Keller." He pushes her out of the way and stalks off.

  Before I can form a coherent thought, King is in front of Den. "Are you okay?"

  My best friend's eyes water, and King pulls her into a hug. "Shhhh." She pats the back of Den's head, and I stand there, dumbfounded.

  What is happening?

  Rhys and Lilly have made their way over, and Lilly pries D from King. "I got her."

  Den swipes over her eyes and lets Lilly lead her down the hall to the bathrooms.

  Rhys lifts a hand, pointing his thumb behind him at Marcus, who is currently chugging a beer at their table. "I, uh…be right back."

  And then there were two.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  My heart races in my chest as I stare at Wes like a deer in the headlights. Lilly told me he was coming back today, but I didn't expect him to show up at The Grizz—not immediately.

  Lilly had brought her friend Elle with her, who flew in for the wedding, and as always, Rhys and Marcus were in tow. I worked tonight's shift, but carrying a small bowling ball in my stomach made it more challenging than expected, so I became the designated mixologist with my own barstool behind the counter when I got too tired. I never knew Grizz could be this warm and fuzzy, almost overbearing.

  Marcus had sauntered over as soon as his charge was safely in her seat, surrounded by her fiancé and friend. "Monroe." He dipped his chin with a smirk.

  "Baxter." I saluted him with the glass I took down for my next order.

  Hanging out with Lilly automatically resulted in being around Marcus, and the more we talked, the less intimidating he was. For whatever reason, he let his guard down around me, which equally flattered and unnerved me. He hadn't made any advances, but I still wondered, why me? He barely talked to anyone besides Lilly and Rhys. Did it have to do with our similar childhoods, as he phrased it?

  "I heard we're paired up for the big event." He walked behind the bar like he owned the place.

  I eyed him leaning next to me against the counter. "So, I'm told."

  Lilly informed me via text this morning that Marcus would escort me to the wedding. If I had learned one thing since meeting her, everything she did had a purpose, and it was easy to decipher this one.

  I texted her back: It won't work.

  Lilly: Just wait.

  Me: He told me flat out all he wants is to be in our baby's life.

  Lilly: Just wait. ;)

  Oh, this woman was infuriating. At the same time, a sliver of hope formed in my chest, and I clung to it like a lifeline.

  We'd been chatting in between orders, Marcus keeping me company and helping me get some of the more expensive bottles down from the higher shelves. Pre-Nugget, I would've jumped on the bar with ease, but my little one made that exercise impossible
—which was exactly what he teased me about when he pulled me into one of his side hugs reserved only for Lilly and me. Even Elle only got a stern head nod.

  Suddenly, the air in the room shifted, and I knew…knew without seeing him. Wes was here, and when I spotted him, he was pissed. My insides formed one giant knot.

  The last thing I expected was for him to sucker punch Marcus. But what unsettled me more was Marcus's reaction to Denielle stepping between them. The hatred oozed out of his pores, and I almost burst into tears myself hearing his words directed at her. It wasn't what he said; it was how he delivered them—with such venom.

  I didn't think anyone expected me to be the one consoling Denielle, but seeing her that upset, I couldn't help myself. No one should have such disdain directed toward them. When Lilly took over, I could no longer avoid focusing on the man in front of me.

  "Wes," my voice is barely audible over the noise level. By a miracle, the customers ignored what had transpired a minute ago.

  "Princ—" His eyes widen, and he corrects himself. "King." His gaze drops to my stomach before it travels slowly upward, stopping at my boobs for longer than necessary. They've doubled in size since we've last been together—in November, not the five minutes at his townhouse. It also doesn't help that I'm wearing a work shirt running on the tighter side—Grizz was not prepared to hand out maternity clothes with the bar's logo on it.

  Hearing him almost call me by his old nickname for me does things to my lady parts that I haven't felt in months. Until I saw him the other night, I hadn't considered being intimate with anyone since finding out about Nugget. Having Wes this close, I fight the urge to step into him, inhale the scent that's so uniquely his.

  He doesn't want me, though.

  The reminder forms a lump in my throat, and I blink rapidly. A groove forms between Wes's brows as he studies me. Then, he does something that shocks me to the core: he interlaces our fingers and leads me to the employee lounge. Where our hands are connected, a tingling sensation begins to spread until my entire body is aflame.

  He lets go of me as he opens the door, and I pass him. Inside, I'm not sure what to do. Why did he bring me here? As a distraction, I aim for my bag sitting on one of the chairs, fish my phone out, and un-casually check my nonexistent messages. I'm acutely aware of him in the room. The soft click of the closing door is like a gunshot in my ears. I refuse to face him. I can't. My heart is pounding against my ribs, but suddenly, there is a new sensation.