Finding Me (Bad Boy #2)

by S. K. Hartley

  I landed on my ass with a hard thud. "Shit" The hard floor meeting my ass sent a wave of nausea through my body. My stomach rolled and it's taking every sliver of energy I had left to keep my stomach from contracting. I couldn't throw up. I knew if I did, I'd more than likely pass out. I needed to get home.

  "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes. What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

  I lifted my head. Fuck, that hurt. Trying to focus, my eyes landed on Ace. He was clearly buzzed. His eyes were glassy and the red lipstick marks on his cheek gave it away.

  "Shut up, douchebag. Help me up," I muttered.

  Ace rolled his eyes. Placing his beer on the bedside table, he walked over and hauled me up with ease. The room spun a little, shooting another wave of nausea through my body. Shit.

  "Dude, if you throw up in my room, I swear I will make you eat it." Ace chuckled, throwing my arm over his shoulder.

  He may have been laughing, but I wouldn't put it past him to do it.

  "Shut up and walk," I grumbled.

  He chuckled as he walked me down the staircase, and we stumbled down the last couple of steps before falling into the wall at the bottom.

  "Dude, Tate is still here. He hasn't drunk anything. Let's see if he can take you home. Otherwise you can sleep in the tub." Ace laughed.

  I muttered some choice cuss words under my breath. It seemed Ace was a fucking comedian. I stopped walking and shrugged Ace off.

  "I can walk you know," I slurred. "Sort of."

  I could hear Ace laugh behind me as I stumbled into the living room. Ace's stereo system was blaring some shit out of the speakers, while a couple of people danced in the middle of the room. Colt, Zane and Tate sat on the sofa, laughing about some shit, while Ace stumbled in the room and turns up the music. My ears rang with the volume change. I needed to get home, I needed to sleep this off.

  "Tate!" I shouted, trying to catch his attention.

  He looks up from his seat, and stares me down. Shit. Does he know about Georgia? No, he couldn’t do. Could he?

  “You’re drunk.”

  Those are the only words that leave his mouth before he stood. He walked over, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and dragging me out of the house. I didn't have any brain to hand coordination to even fight him. I couldn’t even protest with all the alcohol swirling around my brain.

  “You! You are disgusting!” Tate shouted as he pushed me with the hand latched on my shirt. “Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?”

  I’m too shocked to speak, but it’s not like I could anyway. Tate was pacing in front of me, and all I could do was watch with my damn mouth hanging open. Never, in all the time I have known him, has he lashed out. Tate was the quiet one, the decent one. But now, this is someone new. He looked like he was about to go over the edge.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  He was still pacing. Jesus. This night was becoming one big clusterfuck.

  “What’s wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know how much it would kill Neva, knowing that you are so damn wasted you can barely stand? Let alone getting into bed with the woman who has hated her since high school?!”

  Oh shit.

  “Tate, I am not trying to fucking hurt her. I didn’t sleep with Georgia. I don’t even remember drinking the damn vodka!” I yelled back.

  “You hurt her without even fucking trying, Logan. Not only are you hurting her, you’re hurting me. When was the last time you saw me drunk? Hmm?”

  “That time … No, at the …”

  Then it dawned on me. Tate doesn’t really drink. He never has. Sure, he has had a beer or two, but he has never once been wasted. He has always been the DD. He was always the one who looked out for us all when we got so blind drunk that we couldn’t even walk.

  “Can’t think of any can you?” he said, raising his right brow. “I don’t drink because of what I saw, Logan. I don’t drink because of what I had to watch. So, maybe the next time you want to drown your fucking sorrows at the bottom of a bottle, you’ll remember that.”

  I swayed slightly on the spot, watching as by best friend hit me with memories that were buried with Brandon. They all came flooding back.

  Brandon had died. Tate’s mom was a mess, completely heartbroken. They had been high school sweethearts, utterly made for each other. But a part of Lorena had died that day with her husband. The bills had gone unpaid, the laundry was stacking up and the house was a complete mess. It was becoming abundantly clear that Lorena wasn’t grieving normally. Tate was so young. He and Neva had lost a father that day, but in turn, lost their mother in the weeks following.

  “You remember,” Tate said.

  The expression on my face as I remembered must have been clear to Tate, he could see the remorse.

  The final straw came when a bailiff knocked at the door, handing a young Tate a final notice. He may have been young, but he was far from stupid. He needed to snap his mom out of it, and get her back. But nothing could prepare him for what he saw that day. Nothing could prepare him to find his mom in her bedroom the way he did.

  “I’m sorry,” I said truthfully.

  I was sorry. My mind was so focused on Neva that I neglected my best friend. Forgetting he had been through the same trauma, and then some.

  “I know,” he said solemnly. “Get in the truck. I’ll take you home.”

  The ride back to campus was eerily silent. Tate didn’t once take his eyes off of the road. I’m not surprised, I didn’t think I could look at me either. I had fucked up, big time. By the time we pulled up at campus, it was 2am. The night had slipped by and I had been in an alcohol freaking coma for most of it.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Neither of us had moved to get out of the truck. The words that had yet to be spoken hung in the air, building the tension between us.

  Tate sighs heavily before turning to me. “I’m trusting you. I’m trusting you to understand that she doesn’t need this right now. Go inside and sleep it off. We will talk tomorrow. There are some things I need to tell you.”

  I nodded. I didn’t even try to ask him what he needs to tell me. I fucked up enough tonight.

  Opening the door, I climbed out of the truck. I smiled tightly at Tate before walking into the building. Tate wasn’t coming back to the dorm tonight. He was probably staying with Low.

  After negotiating two flights of stairs, I finally made it into the room. I toe off my shoes before landing on my bed fully clothed. I needed sleep to consume me fast, otherwise my thoughts were with her. They were always with her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Neva

  “So, you have forgiven him?” Dr. Marsh asked, pulling some invisible lint from her sharp suit before looking me in the eye.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said.

  I had told Dr. Marsh about Viv's visit, about what made me decide to forgive him. To be honest, I'm still not sure why I forgave him. But, I knew that if I didn't, it would fester and I would come to blame it all on myself.

  “You’re going back to college tomorrow.” It’s a statement, but she tactfully wraps it into a question.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. I hadn’t said much in our sessions of late. The visit with Viv had completely thrown me, pushing me three steps back.

  “Do you think he will be there?” she asked.

  Who, Angel? Why would she ask? We both knew he's no longer attending college, at least in this town. I had received a formal letter from the college a couple of days ago, informing me that Angel Walker had had his education at the college terminated. It went on to state that he hadn’t been in since the day his father had attacked me.

  “No, he left,” I whispered.

  “Really? A man who swore he loved you has left you?”

  “It seems to happen a lot. I’m used to it,” I muttered the last sentence under my breath, silently cussing myself for doing it.

  “Are we going to discuss Logan?” she asked.

  My head s
napped up, my eyes meeting hers. How would she know about Logan? Not once have I mentioned him, or the mess that followed.

  “How?”

  “The police report. You called him.” She gazed down at her notes. “I was referring to Logan with my earlier question. Do you think Logan will be at college?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think in order for you to heal, we need to discuss it.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready.”

  “Neva, you have been ready since the day you first walked into my office. How about you tell me about how you met Logan?”

  “He is my brother’s best friend,” I said softly. I watched as she tried to encourage me to say more. I sighed and start at the beginning.

  “Logan and Tate got on like a house on fire. Tate was quiet, but Logan brought him out of his shell. By the time I was eight, Logan had turned my brother into the confident guy he is today. Logan was always at our place. I think he saw Tate more as a brother than a friend. Logan’s dad had left him and his mother when he was just a baby, it was just the two of them. Until Tate. Then, my dad died. From that day, Logan was by my side. The nightmares would come, and so would he. He protected me.”

  “He sounds like an amazing person,” she said quietly.

  “He is.” A smile crept across my face.

  For the rest of the session, I told her everything. Logan, Angel, Jack. Everything. Trying to tell her about my love for both men was hard, but explaining why I chose who I did was even harder. She never once judged me, only asking questions that would help me move forward.

  “Do you miss him? Angel, I mean,” she asked tentatively.

  “No. I miss the man who I thought he was,” I answered truthfully.

  “I can understand that.” She paused, taking a small sip of her coffee. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “Sure.”

  “I think that even though right now you feel weak, I know you are one of the strongest women I have ever met. You have been through hell, Neva, anyone can see that. But, what I can see is that little flicker in your eye that tells me it's still in there."

  "What's still in there?" I asked, running my palms against my jeans.

  "Fight." She paused. "When was the last time you played your guitar?"

  "It's been a while." I said, pulling a strand of hair between my fingers, twisting it against my index finger.

  "What would you say if I asked you to play it?"

  "Here? Now?" I shrieked. I couldn't think of anything worse.

  "No. In front of a live audience. You mentioned the bar you played at with Angel. Can you remember the feeling of weightlessness you felt when you played?"

  "I … I don't think I could do that."

  "Yes, you can, Neva. You said you wanted to live, so live."

  Dr. Marsh's words ran through my mind as I walked out of the building and out onto the street. There was somewhere where I needed to be, somewhere I never thought I would go back to. My mind was numb as my feet carried me through the streets, losing all sense of control of my movements. After a while, my mind finally caught up with my body. I was back to the place that reminded me so much of him.

  I was standing outside the bar where I, not so long ago, poured my heart into a song. A song that meant so much, but I never knew who I was singing it to. The memory of stroking my fingertips across the strings hit me full force. I missed playing, it'd been so long since I last held my father’s guitar in my hands.

  I took a deep breath as I feel tears sting my eyes, I quickly pushed the memories away. It's time to make new ones. I gathered all of my courage and walked through the double doors. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes hit me full force. As my eyes adjusted to the low level lighting, I spotted the bar. Standing behind it was Dex, the over the top bartender who had served Angel and I when we were last here. A huge smile was plastered across his face as he leaned against the wall behind him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. I gave him a small smile. I still didn't know what I was doing here.

  "I didn't think you would come," he said as I stepped towards the bar. "I was sure you were going to tell me this was a prank."

  I had taken Dr. Marsh's advice. I decided to call the bar number and hoped that I could get ahold of Dex. The shaking in my hands had started well before I got to the bar, but had grown worse when I heard Dex's voice. I was scared, but curious. He was one of Angel's friends from childhood, I knew if this went wrong he would probably tell Angel.

  "I said I would come, Dex," I said, running my palms over my jeans nervously. It seemed to be becoming another nervous tic. "To be honest, I still don't know what I am doing here."

  "I understand,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on mine. “Let me find Trix so she can cover me. We could grab some food and talk?”

  I nodded. Taking an empty stool at the bar, I watched as the chatter built around me. It’s surreal being back here, especially during the day. It seemed different, brighter, more welcoming. My eyes cast down the end of the bar, locating Dex.

  “Yo, whore. Can you cover me?” Dex said with a grin that could melt panties instantly.

  A girl who I didn’t recognize stood up from a crouched position from behind the bar. She couldn’t be taller than five-foot-four. But what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. Her hair was a deep black, tumbling down to her shoulders. Her black makeup only accentuated her smoky grey eyes. She was stunning. Tattoos covered both shoulders and some of her chest, her low cut vest top showed off the intricate designs more.

  “Motherfucker, if you call me a whore again I will cut your balls off and shove them so far up your ass you'll be tea bagging yourself. Capisce?” The girl said, grabbing Dex’s junk over his tight jeans.

  Wow.

  I watched the exchange closely, shocked by the way they talked to each other. But what I wasn’t expecting was Dex’s next move. Suddenly his hands were in her hair, tugging her close and taking her mouth like he owned it.

  Pulling back, he stared into her eyes before dropping to a whisper that was so low I couldn’t catch it. But, whatever it was, it made her smile.

  “You ready?” Dex’s voice shocked me out of my daydream-state.

  “Hmm?” I said, flicking my gaze to his. “Uh, sure.”

  “Come on then, cowgirl, let’s feed you.” He smiled, throwing his legs over the bar effortlessly, before taking my hand and pulling me out of the bar.

  IHOP, we were at IHOP. I hadn’t been here for years. The smell of pancakes penetrated my senses and brought a smile to my face. My dad used to take me here sometimes, usually after he tried to teach me how to drive his truck. Most of the time it would end with me failing to drive a stick shift and Dad paying for a ridiculous amount of pancakes.

  “Something has put a smile on your face. Is it my devilishly good looks?” Dex said, breaking through my memory.

  Sitting on the opposite side of the booth, I took him in. He was good looking, no doubt about it. His green eyes were stark against thick black lashes. His dark hair was long enough to run your fingers through, longer at the front, falling in front of those eyes. His arms were covered in tattoos and a lip ring sat at the corner of his bottom lip.

  “You’re pretty full of yourself, you know?” I said with a chuckle.

  “It’s part of my panty melting charm, cowgirl,” he said, flashing me that damn smile.

  “What’s with the cowgirl thing?”

  “You just look like someone who should be in cowboy boots and a checkered shirt,” he said, cocking his brow. “It’s hot.”

  “Dex. Are you hitting on me?”

  “No, cowgirl. It’s my charm, remember?” He winked.

  Christ, he was so completely full of himself. It suited him.

  “So, what do you think about what we discussed?” I asked tentatively.

  I had asked if he would be willing to let me play at the open mic night again, Dr. Marsh had told me to play, so I decided the bar would be the best place.<
br />
  "You know you don't need to ask to play at an open mic night, right?"

  My eyebrows shot up. Surely he could have told me this on the phone, rather than dragging me all the way to IHOP to tell me this piece of news.

  "So why am I here?" I asked.

  “I don’t know. Why are you here?”

  “You’re deflecting. Answer the question.”

  He sighed dramatically. Leaning forward slightly, he told me exactly why he called.

  “It’s a small place, Neva. Word got around about what happened at Angel’s mom’s house. He came to the bar before I started my shift one night, and all but drank himself into a fucking coma. I threw him out the second I got behind that bar.” He had a sadness in his eyes. “I have known him since we were kids, but what he did … motherfucker shouldn’t be able to walk. I took one look at you the night you came in … I saw pure, I saw innocent, I saw a girl who was a little bent around the edges. I saw a girl who deserved much better than him.”

  “This doesn’t answer my question, Dex.” I said on a shaky breath.

  “Everyone is running from something, Neva. Everyone. The bar is a pit stop for people who need a break from running. That’s why he was there that night. He stopped running, but his ass was thrown right back out and told to keep on running. If you need a break from all that running, all that hiding? There is a job for you there.”

  “What makes you think I’m running?” I was completely shocked by his explanation.

  “Don’t try and play that with me. If you’re running, we know about it. It’s in your eyes, it’s written on your face and it’s in your shaking hands.”

  I quickly pulled my hands from the top of the table, placing them in my lap to try and stop the uncontrollable shaking. He slowly cocked his right brow. Smart ass.

  “So, what are you running from?”