Screw It

by Nicki DeStasi

  “No.” His voice is firm.

  “No?”

  “Something about me that’s changed.” He moves in close and drops his voice. “I like a puzzle.”

  I balk at that comment. “I’m not a puzzle.”

  “Sweets.” His voice is low, unbelieving.

  “I’m not! I’m an open book!”

  “You’re a million-piece jigsaw puzzle. Already, I got a few pieces put together. You’re fighting this ’cause you’re scared shitless.”

  Panic spirals out of control, igniting me, and I burst. “Of course I’m scared!”

  Oh fuck.

  I clamp my mouth shut, but I can’t snatch those words back. The softening of his face says I just fucked up big time.

  “Sweets,” he whispers as he ghosts his knuckles across my cheekbone.

  I’m losing control. I have been for four days. I can’t do this anymore—this spiraling out of control, this mess, this craziness. I just want my neat, orderly path back. I need it.

  I can’t lose control.

  Something snaps in me, clicking into place and filling my resolve. Hardness flows through my veins, patching up in those little chips Zach made. The only way to fight a situation is to control it. With Zach, no amount of arguing, fighting, or pushing will make him leave me alone. I have to fight him at his own game.

  I have to screw him.

  Something shifts in her green eyes, and unease slithers in my gut. Whatever just happened, I don’t see good things coming from that shift. The change melts, but the foreboding stays planted.

  “Okay.” Her tone is soft, but her eyes are tight.

  My eyebrows snap together. “Okay?”

  “Okay, fine. We can try to get to know each other again.”

  Pulling back, my furrowed brows deepen. “Just like that?”

  She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. “What do you mean, just like that?”

  I pull in air and release it slowly, thinking something is most definitely not right. “Sweets, not five minutes ago, you said that we weren’t going back there, and now, you’re giving in?”

  Her eyes tense. “Are you saying that you don’t want me to give in?”

  Light dawns, and I realize she thinks I’m playing with her again. That would explain the eye shift. “No, Becca. That’s not what I’m saying. I just thought it would take more persuasion.”

  “You seem pretty determined.”

  “Right, but I thought it would take more action.”

  “It will. I’m not saying that we’ll be fucking by the end of the night. I just mean, I won’t fight you as you’re trying to convince me that we’ll work.”

  My dick jumps on the word fucking, and I grin. I knew I would be getting in there.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m not changing my routine.”

  “Didn’t expect you to.”

  “Okay then, get off me. I need to get ready for work.”

  “Can I have a kiss?”

  Her eyes widen, and she pushes her head back as far as it’ll go into the pillow. “Hell no.”

  I smile huge. “Didn’t think so, but figured I’d try my luck.”

  “Whatever,” she mutters. Then, she glances at the nightstand, and her body tenses. “Fuck!” She faces me. “Get up. I’m an hour behind schedule.”

  “Right.” I slide off her and then watch as she stands and buries her hands in her hair.

  “Shit. Okay, no run today. Shit.” She stops, her eyes aimed across the room. “Why the fuck is my dresser in front of my door?”

  My lips twitch. “Your door is busted.”

  Her eyes swing to me and grow huge, looking like a cartoon character. “What the fuck happened to my door?”

  I can’t help it. She’s so fucking cute having her freak-out that laughter slips out of me.

  Her face scrunches, her eyes getting even wider. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing.” I sober.

  She catches it and tenses.

  “When you screamed last night, I thought that guy got in, so I kicked in the door.”

  She looks down and away. “Oh.”

  I reach in my back pocket for my phone. “Becca, go take a shower, and do what you gotta do. I’ll take care of the door.”

  She squares her shoulders. “I can take care of it.”

  “I’m sure you can, sweets, but you just said that you wouldn’t fight me taking care of you.”

  Her eyes widen, and her jaw clenches. “I didn’t say that!”

  I dial Matt and put the phone to my ear. “Close enough. Go shower.”

  Her eyes bug out, and she opens her mouth, but Matt picks up, so I turn away.

  She lets out a disgruntled, “Arg!”

  “Hey, I need a favor.”

  “What’s up?” Matt asks.

  “I need to put in a dead bolt and some wood putty. Think you can bring the shit to do that?”

  “At your place?”

  “No, it’s at…” I rattle off the address.

  Silence.

  Then, Matt says, “Repeat that?”

  My eyebrows cinch together, and I tell him the address again.

  “You’re at Becca’s place?”

  I jerk back. “Yeah. You know her?”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell Becca I’m your partner. You and I need words. I’ll be there in an hour.” He doesn’t elaborate before he hangs up.

  My chest tightens as I hit the screen and slide my phone back into my pocket. I have a feeling I’m about to get another piece of that puzzle, and I’m not sure I’m gonna like it.

  Without being able to do anything about that right now, I put my upcoming conversation out of my mind and go in search of food.

  With bread toasting, I’m frying up eggs and bacon when Becca walks out in jean shorts and a red shirt with Mario’s scrawled across the chest. Her hair hangs in damp ringlets surrounding her makeup-free face. Her puffy eyes have gone down. I’ve never seen her like this—fresh, first thing in the morning.

  Sweet.

  “What are you doing?” Her tone is low, pissed.

  I slide my eyes away from her and to the pan. Then, I look back to her, and my lips twitch. “Finding a cure to cancer.”

  Her eyes hit the ceiling. She takes a breath, and then her focus hits me. “I have a routine, and you’re fucking it up. Here’s something to learn about me—I do not like my routine fucked up.”

  My jaw falls slightly. “Woman, you’re running late, so I made you breakfast. And you’re bitching about it? Are you for real?”

  Her jaw snaps shut, her tight face softening.

  Yep, getting in there. Long way to go, but I’m making a chink in that armor.

  An hour later, Becca’s gone to work.

  Before she left, I got some more bitching because she wanted to know how I was gonna fix the door. I told her not to worry about it, but she pressed. I didn’t share since Matt had told me not to mention him. She got pissed, so I smirked. She glared at me, and then she stormed out the door with me chuckling.

  I’m leaning against the counter, sipping coffee, and looking up PTSD on my phone. I barely get the page loaded when there’s a knock at the door. It’s unsecured, so it creaks open.

  “Yo,” I call out.

  Matt pushes through the door. “What the fuck?”

  I set my coffee down and slide my phone into my pocket. Then, I push off the counter. “Had to kick in the door.”

  Matt’s eyes, which were trained on the splintered door, slide to mine. His eyes are tense, and his body is rigid. He keeps his tone low and careful when he asks, “Why did you have to do that?”

  I study his features. We work awesome together. He’s great at his job, and he seems like a good man who loves his kids. I don’t, however, know his connection to Becca. They don’t share a last name, and they don’t share any features whatsoever. Seeing as I’m making it my job to take care of Becca, I figure I should find out what that connection is.

  I cross my arms over
my chest. “Mind telling me how you know her?”

  “I’m her brother. Mind telling me the same?”

  My brows draw together. “Brother?”

  “For all intents and purposes, yes. Now, get talking fast, man. I know you said you have a sister, so you can guess how I’m feeling right about now.”

  I sigh and run a hand through my hair, thinking not good things. “Right. I knew Becca back in the day.”

  His tight face turns red. Based on that look, he’s guessing how I knew her, and my chest gets tight.

  I keep going, “Ran into her on Friday night, and she was having issues with some guy.”

  His face loses the redness, and he closes his eyes as he drops his head.

  “I walked her home and let her know that I’d like to get reacquainted.”

  He raises his head and locks eyes on me with his jaw tight.

  “At some point during the weekend, that guy gave her shit, and the shit he gave scared her. When I went to test the waters last night, I realized the shit he was giving her and tried to end it. Things escalated, but Becca seemed to break through, and he backed down. I wanted her to make a statement in case he decides he doesn’t want to stay backed down, but she didn’t want to. I’m sure you know that when Becca’s mind is made up, it’s not easy to change.”

  Matt’s face smooths slightly, and the side of his mouth tips up.

  “I had other battles to fight with her, so I let it go and decided to stay with her in case he came and gave her shit again. She wasn’t too hot on that, so I slept in the hall. Heard her screaming the building down and thought something happened to her, so I broke down the door to get in. She wasn’t being hurt. She was having an episode.”

  His jaw, which softened when I said that I slept in the hall, drops. “Fuck. An episode?”

  “Yeah.” My tone is soft and sad. “You know she had those?”

  Hands on his hips, he tips his head back. He searches the ceiling for answers to life, but I’m not in the mood to dick around.

  “Well?”

  He shakes his head. “Didn’t know that was still happening.”

  “You gonna fill me in?”

  He crosses his arms. “How well do you know her?”

  I run my tongue along my lip. “Not as well as I’d like to.”

  He puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head down. “Gotcha.” He rights his head. “Going out on a limb and gonna ask, you the same guy who broke her heart all those years ago?”

  I run a hand through my hair, not liking having to explain myself, but if I want info, I’m not sure I have a choice. “Probably.”

  “Right.” He sighs. “Thinking you should probably walk away.”

  I jerk. “What?”

  “She’s not gonna let you back in. Fucking miracle you got in the first time.”

  I pull my eyebrows together. “She already gave me an in.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Trust me, man. She didn’t.”

  I’m losing patience. “Moving on. You gonna fill me in?”

  “Listen to me. She didn’t give you an in. And if by some remote possibility she did, I’m not too keen on seeing my girl take a fall and have issues like that with my partner.”

  I pull in a breath and release it slowly. “I’m not too pumped to be having this type of discussion with my partner and the brother of the woman I’m trying to make mine. I’ve already explained this to her, but for your peace of mind, I’ll tell you, too. I didn’t hurt Becca the way she thought I did. Once we were at a point, there was no one but her. I made a choice and fucked up, but I didn’t physically cheat. It just seemed like it. I was in a place where I freaked, and I took advantage of that out. I liked Becca a lot. She’s a good woman. I already told you where my head is at now. I want to get the good back with her, but I need to find out what I’m dealing with, so I can deal with it the right way.”

  He presses his lips together. “She has issues.”

  I roll my eyes. “She’s a woman, so of course she does. They all do. Some are worse than others, but their hearts rule their lives, so having issues comes with the territory.”

  He snorts a laugh before he smothers it and studies me.

  My mouth gets tight. “We got a door to secure and a case to work. I’m asking you to fill me in on what’s going down with Becca. She had an episode where she was un-fucking-reachable, and she kept saying dead.”

  Matt sucks in a breath. “Right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re sure you’re that into her?”

  “I slept in the dirty hallway to make sure she was safe. I busted in her door when I thought she was in trouble. I cleaned puke off her hair and face, and I held her in my arms until her episode was over. Then, I still held her in my arms as she cried it out. I did that patiently while I’d been awake for around twenty-two hours before. Yeah, I’m into her.”

  “I get you.” He sighs. “I don’t want to spill Becca’s life because that’s hers, but I’ll tell you how we met. I’ll preface it by saying, I want your promise that you’ll let me tell Becca what I told you. She’s gonna be pissed, and I’ll deal with that, but I’m doing this because I’m hoping she can finally find someone to help her carry her burden. She won’t even let me help much, and I’m the only one she has.”

  I nod, silently agreeing.

  “I’m also doing this ’cause I’m a good judge of character, and I think you’re a good man. Don’t make me doubt that trait of mine.”

  “Appreciate that, and I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He runs his teeth against his bottom lip. “It was early in my career. I was on the force for only about a year. Got a call about a child with a sick mom. Becca was eleven, and her mom killed herself.”

  “Fuck.” That slams me in the chest and squeezes tight. I glance at the floor. I’ve seen a lot on the job, but the worst shit involves children and loss.

  “Becca doesn’t know her mother took her own life.”

  I snap my head up. “What? Why?”

  He glances around the room before his eyes find mine again. “When the investigation was going on, I wasn’t really involved. I didn’t find out until later that she thought her mom was just too drunk and drowned in her puke. By that time, she was in a foster home. The foster parents thought that it would be better if she believed it was an accident instead of knowing her mom had left her on purpose. I thought she should know the truth, but seeing as she wasn’t in my care, it wasn’t my call. By the time she was out, she was coping. Not great, but she was coping. I didn’t want to fuck with that.”

  “Jesus.” I look around the room, processing. When my eyes land back on him, I ask, “Her mom was a drunk?”

  Matt shakes his head. “Not my story.”

  “Right.” I rub my face with my hand. “Has she been diagnosed? Have a therapist?”

  His head moves side to side again. “Can’t give more. From what I gave you, you can create a picture of what you’re dealing with, but I’m not sharing more.”

  I pull in air through my nose, understanding the fact that my fighter really is a fighter. It sucks she has that inside her, but the silver lining is, she’s letting me in, so now, I can take her back.

  “Right. Let’s get that door fixed,” I say as I stride toward Becca’s busted door, hoping, like Becca, it can be mended.

  Babysitting

  On Friday, just like Wednesday and Thursday, when I open the door to my building to start my run, Zach’s waiting for me. When his eyes hit me, his face splits as he smiles big, his eyes crinkling in the corners. That’s new. His eyes didn’t crinkle before, but it looks good on him.

  I’m back to me. I have my control by the nuts, so much so that Zach’s endearments and his smiles don’t make my heart hurt. In fact, nothing he does touches me inside.

  That said, just now, his smile hits my clit.

  Like Brian promised, I haven’t seen him. I was pissed at myself for losing control of the situation. But it’s done, so I forgave myself and
chalked it up as a reminder never to lose control again.

  I haven’t solidified my strategy for Project Fuck Zach for two reasons. One, I’m not sure if he’s playing me or not. I’m leaning toward not. He’s been sweet and open. He lets conversations flow easily. That’s something else new, and his easy flow of information pisses me off because I didn’t get it six years ago. Two, I’m good at controlling situations for the most part, but I know nothing about relationships. I pulled up a website to get ideas, but step number one was to use relationships to teach me how to be whole within. I started laughing. Therefore, I quit reading. I figured relationships were just a series of situations, so I could control it just the same.

  I’m not excited about screwing Zach over, but it’s either that or let him in. There’s no way I’ll open my heart up to him again. It’ll end eventually, so if he’s so determined to try, I’ll control how it all goes south.

  I jog down the steps, a smirk playing on my lips. “You don’t have to run with me, ya know?”

  His grin deepens, but then it dies as his gaze rakes over my body. “You always wear shit like that?”

  I glance down at my sports bra and running shorts before lifting my eyes back to him with my forehead creased. “Sometimes, tank tops, but if it’s hot, yeah.”

  He sets his jaw and purses his lips.

  Realizing that I wore a tank the last two days, I plant my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Babe.”

  Babe is new, too. I haven’t decided if I like it, but I think it is good for Project Fuck Zach.

  “Don’t babe me. I’m running, and I’m in running garb. Don’t—”

  He chuckles. “Garb?”

  “Yes, garb, or gear, ensemble, outfit, clothing, attire, apparel, duds, garments—”

  “You memorize the thesaurus?”

  I snap my trap shut. My grades were something I could control in foster care, so I did. I soaked up all I could. But that was a time I won’t share with him. He doesn’t get that part of me. He didn’t six years ago, and he sure as shit won’t now.

  He catches me shutting down, and he lifts a hand to, I think, curl around my neck, but I step back.