As though on cue, Ayda pushed up and swung a leg up and over me, her body shifting so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands pushing back her already brushed back hair. “Drew, I don’t live or exist. I do what I have to in order to survive. I’m not under some illusion here, but I knew what I had to do when my folks died, and I get on with it as best I can and try not to fuck up too much along the way.”
In trying to achieve one thing, I’d achieved the exact opposite. My body immediately missed the warmth of hers, but I knew I couldn’t move. Every roll of my head was making the room spin more and more, so I stayed where I was and shot my eyes up to the ceiling.
“Don’t get pissy, Ayda. I ain’t judging shit about you. We all do what we have to do to see another day. We’re the lucky ones.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest for a moment. Before I could say or do anything more, she leaned back, lowering herself slowly so her head was resting on my chest. “That’s not a word I’d attribute to myself, and I’m by no means defeatist.”
Keeping my elbow on the mattress, I raised my hand to the back of her neck and just rested it there. Every passing breath I took while she was against me seemed to slow as though she was the thing I needed right in that moment to make me feel something other than confusion and fatigue. My eyes got heavier and my mouth got looser, the words falling out without much thought for her or for me. “Yes, you are.”
“Defeatist or lucky?” she asked quietly, raising her hand to cover mine.
“Defeatist. You lost your fight the day your parents died,” I whispered.
“How do you figure that?”
“It’s in everything you do, every move you make, every look you give, every comeback you hit me with… but mainly it’s in your eyes. I’ve only ever seen it in one other place before.”
Tilting her head to the side, her eyes found mine. “And where’s that?”
“In the mirror.”
“And why…” she began, swallowing. “Why are you defeatist, Drew?”
As I stared down into her eyes, I waited for the usual tensing of my body to happen. I waited for every muscle to seize, every thought to turn to him and for every part of me to want to throw her to the ground and get the hell out of there. But no matter how long I waited, none of that happened. I stayed calm and I stayed in the moment with her, even when his name eventually fell from my lips.
“Because I lost my fight the day Pete lost his. I guess I died when he died.”
Ayda looked up at the ceiling and stayed quiet for the longest time, her chest rising and falling with every breath. Just when I thought she wasn’t going to answer at all, her eyes found mine again and her unshed tears made them glisten in the muted light. “It fucking sucks doesn’t it.”
I began to nod slowly, unable to control the corners of my mouth turning down or the twitching of the muscles in my jaw as I held her gaze and felt something inside my chest rip wide open. “It does when I’m the one who killed him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ayda
Murder?
It was exactly what Drew was alluding to, but I didn’t feel a stirring of fear in my body, nor did I feel compelled to flee the room and look for a safe corner to hide in. Mainly because, at some point between falling onto the bed with him and the second he uttered those words, I realized I’d never felt so safe in my life. With the heat of his body seeping onto my skin and the intense blueish green of his eyes flashing as they held mine, I knew there was more to the story than that. I saw the pain harbored in the depths of him. Like was meeting like. He was right that I knew that look, too.
I didn’t know who Pete was, but it didn’t take much to see he’d meant a lot to Drew. His reaction was all I needed to know that.
Rolling onto my side and reaching for his other hand with mine, I tangled our fingers together and took a moment to catch my breath. In one quiet conversation, this man had stripped me naked and displayed my wounds. I’d spent three years and countless hours hiding them but there they were, laid bare, and he wasn’t treating me as though I were made of glass.
“Explain,” I whispered, bringing our joined hands down between us.
“About how my greed and my arrogance brought about his death?” he breathed out like he didn’t actually want to have to say anything more about it, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Or how I had to watch him die in my arms and I couldn’t do a single fucking thing to stop it?”
“Drew,” I started, with the same matter of fact tone he’d used with me, and then paused as I rolled to my stomach and shuffled closer to him. “I’m not going to sit here and talk about how it’s not your fault or say you had nothing to do with his death. I wasn’t there, and although I know you’re not responsible, anything I say will fall on deaf ears. What I will tell you is this: shit happens. People make shitty decisions that lead them into shittier situations. Whatever you’re feeling, I’m pretty sure Pete would be pissed at you for it. Am I right?”
He stared back at me for such a length of time, it should have made me feel awkward, but it didn’t – not until he sighed heavily and broke contact completely, turning his face away from me and closing his eyes as though in pain.
“I’m not preaching. I’m not trying to hurt you more. I just know that feeling. It’s the one I feel every single day.” Taking a chance, I pushed up closer to him and draped my body over his chest, most of my weight on my hip as I pulled my legs up. Then I repeated myself, hoping for some kind of reaction. “It fucking sucks.”
Drew’s hands reached out, pulling me even closer as his face stayed turned away. It was a touch over sight thing, and though I wanted him to look at me more than anything, I was grateful for whatever he was willing to give. “It’s my burden to bear,” he said quietly, his voice somehow still strong, even though it was breaking.
“Don’t say that.”
“This club, it had never been down that road before. I pushed and I pushed and I pushed to get us all to where I thought we needed to be, Ayda. My name wasn’t just feared; it was respected, too. Pete gave me that. He taught me how to be who I ought to be. Only I took it too far. I had too many ideas and I couldn’t… I couldn’t get them out fast enough. I couldn’t execute them as quickly as I wanted to. I pushed too hard and he paid the price. Because of me. Because of me. I got us in too deep and he never let me believe I couldn’t get us out of it. Now he’s dead, while everyone out there still wants more of our blood.”
“Did you respect Pete?” I asked, swallowing almost compulsively. I knew I was asking a question with an obvious answer, but I needed him to open his eyes and see some of the things he seemed to be forgetting, even if it meant getting my head bitten off by him.
“More than anyone has ever loved and respected a brother before,” he answered roughly, turning back to face me, but only opening his eyes by the smallest of margins. “Did you respect your parents?”
“Very much so,” I said, tracing a pattern on his chest. “And it’s why I keep trying to forgive myself. They were at that bank trying to sort out my financial aid for college. It wasn’t even their bank. They were there to help me and it got them killed.”
The intensity of his stare had me dropping my forehead to his warm chest and breathing in the smell that was so uniquely him. I still wasn’t entirely sure what had gone on, and I wasn’t sure he’d be receptive to what I had to say next, but he deserved to hear it with my eyes on his.
“The reason I brought this up is because you have to forgive yourself, Drew. I don’t know all of the details. You may never tell me, but that’s your choice. What I do know, is that Pete had a choice – a choice to put himself in a situation with you to begin with. Whether you pushed or not, he could have put his foot down and you’d have eventually respected that, because you respected him.”
“We don’t have choices in this life. It’s just not that simple.”
“Everyone has a choice. It may be limited but it’s a choi
ce. You made a choice that day, too. You’ve also made the choice to accept the responsibility for his death. That’s not wrong, and I am not judging you, but please consider that Pete had a chance to change things just as much as you did.”
His hand rose to my face, stilling over my cheek as though he wasn’t quite sure whether he should close the gap and touch me at all. Shaking his head gently, he dropped his palm to my neck before trailing it along my shoulder, my skin tingling pleasantly under the warmth of his rough skin. “I almost wish I had some of that naivety of yours. I once believed I had choices myself. Not anymore. Now, it’s just this. Life is what it is.” Drew’s eyes got heavy as he sighed and closed them once again. When he spoke, his lips were barely moving. “If you had choices, you wouldn’t be here right now, so I guess I should be thankful or some shit.”
“You think I don’t have a choice? I made a choice to take the punishment for my brother rather than go to the cops like anyone else would have. I made a choice to keep coming back even after I realized that he didn’t do as much damage as you first made out. I had a choice to face down Maisey, but her possessiveness meant that choice led to this,” I said, pointing to the bruise and half smiling. “I had a choice to talk to you in the bar tonight, and a choice to come in here, and I trusted you enough to allow me those. Make no mistake, Drew Tucker, I’m absolutely here by choice.”
A small, barely-there smile graced his lips before he finally gave in and whispered, “Ayda Hanagan needs to learn to walk down safer paths. Ones that won't get her killed, fucked or puked on.” Then his smile fell into a smirk, but I knew he didn't find what he'd just said funny, not in the slightest. He was calling it as he saw it and in his eyes, those were the only things left waiting for me if I continued to choose him.
“You sure do have a way with words, Drew,” I said quietly, shuffling my arms to the side so I could push up and sit on the edge of the bed again. This time, I got up and grabbed his trash can, the bag still untouched, which would hopefully save a lot of clean up if he did puke.
Setting it beside the bed, I crouched beside him and smiled sadly. “And I guess you can call me a glutton for punishment, because I choose to stay here with you right now, not for any other reason than I want to. But I also choose to keep my pants firmly on, mister.”
Standing up and heading to the bathroom, I filled up a plastic cup with water and grabbed a bottle of painkillers, knowing he was going to need it when he opened his eyes in the morning.
By the time I got back to the room, he'd flung his arm over his face, his narrowed eyes peering out from under it as they followed me around. Ignoring the intensity of his stare, I kicked my shoes off and made my way back to the bed.
It had been such a weird night. Drew had cornered me under the pretense of my being honest with him, only he'd been the one who’d opened up. I hadn't expected that from him, and once again he'd managed to surprise me.
“You're going to want to take these and drink as much water as you can. I don't think we have enough greasy food to counter the amount of whiskey you've consumed tonight.”
Climbing up on the top of the bed, I carefully lifted his head and set it on my lap. I opened the bottle of painkillers and handed him a few before switching the bottle out for the water. The position had only been temporary, but he lifted an arm and draped it over my thighs, holding me hostage. Feeling brave, I dropped my hand to his hair and brushed my fingers through it.
With every stroke I made, his body seemed to get heavier against me, until a slow, choked breath came unstuck from the back of his throat and he whispered, “Thank you.”
“Happy to help,” I whispered back, not even sure he heard me at all. His body sank against mine until I was pretty sure he was asleep.
My fingers never stopped moving in his hair, and it was only when his grip loosened on me that I settled for resting my palm there and listening to the party going on in a murmur beyond the walls of his room. I would have been worried about Tate, but I was certain that Deeks would look after him for me. At least, I hoped he would, otherwise there was no telling what trouble my kid brother could get himself into between now and sunrise.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Drew
It wasn’t the stomach roll, the pounding head or the fact that my mouth felt like carpet that made my eyes scrunch tighter together when I shifted over and turned onto my back. It wasn’t even the low groan of weariness that escaped my dry, welded together lips. It wasn’t even the fact that my hands were curled up into weak fists that ached to be stretched out, as the pins and needles ran all the way through them, leaving them as crippled and as useless as I felt. It wasn’t the pain in my chest or the fact that I needed to take a piss so bad, I thought my bladder was going to burst open there and then.
No. It was the way the person next to me moved and stretched, so fucking selfishly that I had no choice but to wake up from my peaceful state. For the first time in months, I slept solidly and the moment I moved my tongue in a wave like motion up on the roof of my mouth, I had a pretty good idea that a lot of that had to do with the bucket load of booze I consumed after our little visit from The Emperors.
Lifting my balled up hands to my head, I pressed them to my temple and tried to regain some kind of control over the heavy metal rock band that was currently playing an encore behind my eyelids. It felt like the drummer was doing an epic solo on all parts of my brain, while I just lay there and waited for him to stop. Only he didn’t stop and I couldn’t move. Not until I felt that person beside me shift around again, then heard their delicate little moan of sleep filled pleasure as they rolled onto their side, making the mattress bounce.
That’s when everything inside me seemed to freeze in a split second. The frown on my face smoothed itself out. My desert-like mouth found enough strength to finally open up and allow me to take in some air, and my eyes flickered open as I tried to remember where the fuck I was and who the hell I was with.
It was only when they moved again that I got a whiff of whatever perfume it was they wore and I felt my stomach drop into my ass even more.
Ayda.
With my hands still pressed to my head, I rolled it to her side and peered up at her underneath the white sleeve of my t-shirt to see if what I thought was happening was actually really happening. When I saw her there, I couldn’t move. Both of her hands were tucked under her cheek as her head rested on the edge of one of my pillows, and her lips were parted so thinly, she looked almost perfect in her slumber. Her body was scrunched up with her knees raised up to her chest, and even though I so badly wanted to jump off this bed, scramble to the other end of the room and back up against a wall, I knew I couldn’t for several different reasons.
The main one being that I had to get out of here fast without waking her up.
The other being that I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I wanted to.
Fortunately for me, the demands of my bladder left me with very little choice. It was either get out quick or I would need nursing for other reasons, which wouldn’t do Drew Tucker’s reputation any good whatsoever. Sucking in a giant breath, I held it in and ignored the groans of my body as I began to roll off the bed as slowly as I possibly could. There was feeling rough and then there was this. This felt as close to me being on my way out of this world as you could get without taking a bullet to the head.
When my feet landed on the floor, I didn’t pause or wait around to get up and make use of my legs. Experience had taught me enough for me to know that the longer I delayed this or tried to slow it down, the more it would hurt. One thing that wouldn’t do what I told it to, no matter how hard I tried, was my head. As my toes skimmed across the carpet, my shoulders fell forward and my chin was determined as shit to glue itself to my chest. It seemed that thing was suddenly as afraid of heights as I was.
I didn’t glance back at Ayda before I slipped into the bathroom. I couldn’t. I had too many questions and only one
person who could answer them. If I was to keep on looking at her laid out on my bed that way, I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before I was waking her up and forcing her to look me in the eye and tell me what I’d said in the height of my drunken spewings.
Everything I did was as quiet as possible. The faucets were turned on just enough that I could cup my hands beneath them and splash my face. I brushed my teeth even though it felt like I was pressing razor blades against my gums. I even managed to throw my clothes to the floor and wash from the sink water alone, before heading through to my office and pulling out some clean jeans and a t-shirt I kept in there, in one of the drawers. I was dressed head to toe in black and somehow it seemed to fit. I felt like going into mourning.
I needed painkillers and I needed them fast, but no matter how many cupboards or drawers I looked through in there, I couldn’t find a single pill. Not one. That’s when the hazy memory of her bringing some to my bedside hit me again and I knew I’d be forced to go back in there if I stood any chance of diluting this agony behind my eyes.
“Fucking shit,” I cursed under my breath, bringing both hands to rest on my hips, looking back at the bathroom door, then over to the one that led to the corridor and eventually, the bar.
Pain meds or hair of the dog? Just the thought of putting more of that crap into my body had my stomach turning again and my eyes bleeding with imaginary pain, which left only one option open to me.
Rolling my eyes up to the ceiling, I started to make my way back through to the bedroom. I was creeping around like I was some kind of cat burglar.
Before I pushed the door open, my hand stayed there holding on to the handle as though it was asking me if this was really what I wanted to do. Every part of me knew that if I went in there and she woke up, she’d be greeted with a side of me that neither one of us liked, but was pretty much the one in charge whenever I woke up on mornings like this.
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