“Yes,” I paused. “Unfortunately.”
“Ryan and my girl used to date before Ryan decided to pursue his baseball career. He broke up with her the day that he got drafted,” Dad told him.
Hayes grunted. “Well, you dodged a bullet with that one. My stepbrother is a douche.”
My mouth fell open.
“You’re that Hayes?” I gasped, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the opulent foyer. “He said you were a POW.”
Prisoner of War. Missing and never to be found again.
Hayes’ face completely shut down.
There wasn’t an ounce of nice guy there. Only a blank mask belonging to a man who very clearly did not, under any terms, want to talk about anything that had to do with being a prisoner of war.
So noted.
“Annnnd, that’s my cue to take you and run,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”
I looked at Hayes once over my shoulder to see him staring at his feet, lost in thought, and knew that I’d put my foot in my mouth.
When we were in the banquet hall, Dad pulled me to the corner and looked at me as if I was nuts.
“You need to learn to use that thing between your brain and your mouth. It’s called a fucking filter,” he growled.
I threw my hands up in the air.
“I didn’t know it was something we didn’t discuss!” I argued. “How was I supposed to know that? Jesus Christ. I was just making sure it was the same guy. But hells bells, the way Ryan described it, he was gone for a long, long time. They assumed he was dead. They even had a funeral for him.”
My dad winced.
“Hayes has PTSD. He’s on the SWAT team. He functions… but I don’t think that he’s over what happened. He was a prisoner of war for a long time. Just… be gentle with him, Ares. He’s not like me or your brother,” he said.
I instantly felt bad.
My father was right.
He wasn’t like my dad or my brother. Two of the most outgoing and peoplely persons out there.
Me? I wasn’t a people person. I put on a good act, almost had to when I was at work seeing as I was the counselor, but the moment I got home I practically folded into myself.
In fact, right here and now, having to deal with all of these stuck-up people—and Ryan who was most definitely not the same Ryan when I had dated him—was making my head hurt.
I knew that I’d have a headache by the time we got our first course brought out.
“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to offend him.”
My dad would’ve replied but just as he opened his mouth to do that, my brother came up and scared the absolute crap out of me.
I screeched in surprise, my entire body jolting, and barely managed to catch my dress before the whole damn thing slid right the fuck off.
“Jesus Christ, Lock.” I punched him. Hard. “You almost made me flash everyone in the whole fucking room!”
Lock laughed but held his arm where I punched him. “That hurt!”
I bared my teeth. “It was supposed to, fucker.”
“Let’s go find our seats,” Saylor ordered. “I hear they have chocolate at the table.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“We’re in the back right corner,” I said. “That’s what my ticket stub says anyway.”
Saylor headed that way with me right behind her.
My dad and Lock got sidetracked by a group of men that wanted to talk shop, and when we arrived at our table, I nearly came to a sudden, bone-jarring halt to find not only Ryan and his date there, but also Hayes. The man I just offended to the point where he closed up like a virgin’s legs.
Jesus Christ.
This should prove fun.
I took the seat that was farthest away from Ryan, but also not in his line of sight as long as I didn’t lean forward. Unfortunately, the seating arrangement also put me directly across from Hayes, who watched me move.
I swallowed hard and took my seat, urging Saylor down next to me.
“Talk to me,” I hissed. “Make it better.”
She frowned. “Make what better?”
“Who’s your friend?”
I gritted my teeth and spared Ryan a glance. He was leaning backward so far that he was threatening the integrity of the chair legs.
“This is my brother’s wife, Saylor,” I answered him, going for polite but coming out more ‘constipated.’
“Who is that?” Saylor whispered.
“That’s my ex,” I explained in just as low of a tone.
“And who is the man that’s staring at you like you’re his lunch?” she pushed, her eyes flicking to Hayes and back.
I chanced a glance in his direction to see his eyes on me.
Luckily, before I could answer, a waiter came by and asked what everyone wanted to drink.
When the man got to Hayes, Hayes said one word. “Whiskey.”
I swallowed hard, chancing another look to find his eyes still on me.
“And you, Miss?” the waiter asked me.
I licked my lips. “Ummm, whiskey sounds great!”
Whiskey sounded awful. I hated whiskey. Why did I just say that?
“Excellent choice,” the waiter sounded surprised by my order.
Don’t worry buddy, I was, too.
“When did your brother get married?” Ryan asked, looking confused.
I ignored him, my eyes scanning the room.
Since when did he care about my brother?
In fact, my brother and he did not get along. I was fairly sure he really didn’t care that my brother was now a married man.
“Ares?”
I gritted my teeth and turned to stare at Ryan.
“Yes?” I asked through gritted teeth when he waited for me to acknowledge him.
“I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Brooke.” He gestured to the woman next to him.
I gave her a smile and a wave. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Ares. This is my sister-in-law, Saylor. That man right there is Hayes, Ryan’s step-brother.”
Since I hadn’t seen Ryan introduce Hayes once, and I really didn’t want Ryan’s attention focused on me anymore.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“I know who Hayes is,” Brooke said softly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ares. Saylor.”
I gritted my teeth and looked away, really wishing I’d said no to my father when he’d asked me to join him today.
“So, did you find a job?” Ryan asked.
I would’ve beat my head against the table if I thought it would help.
Ryan would just find it amusing to know that he was annoying me.
“Yep,” I said, then turned to Saylor. “I have to go to the bathroom. Want to come?”
Right when she would’ve answered, Lock arrived. “She just went. Go by yourself.”
I rolled my eyes and did just that, but not before pulling a lock of my brother’s hair as I passed.
“Ow,” he muttered, glaring at me over his shoulder.
I stuck out my tongue and moved swiftly across the large ballroom.
I smiled at people I knew and avoided the eyes of those that I didn’t.
By the time that I arrived at the bathroom, I wished I never would’ve said I needed to go.
I’d been stopped by no less than five people wanting to talk to me.
Making it to the bathroom, I made quick work of going—I mean I was in the bathroom. I didn’t pass up opportunities to go. One never knew when the opportunity would arise again.
By the time I finished, and I was making my way back out the door, I’d been at least ten minutes.
Seeing Ryan waiting for me outside the bathroom didn’t surprise me in the least. I ignored him and rushed forward, taking a hard left and bypassing him completely.
“Why are you here with him?”
The hissed question had me turning to stare into the darkened hallway.
&nbs
p; “With who?” I asked, confused.
“My brother. I saw you come in with him. Saw y’all talking. He doesn’t talk to anybody,” Ryan said. “So I know that you have something going on.”
I would’ve rolled my eyes, but I knew that he wouldn’t like it. And it would keep me there even longer than necessary. Nor did I bother to correct him on my status with his brother not being what he assumed. What did I care if he thought we were together or not?
“Umm,” I paused. “What’s it to you?”
I mean, correct me if I was wrong, but I was fairly sure that I’d gotten dumped by the man.
“It’s my business whether you get with my brother or not,” Ryan said stiffly, sounding pissed.
I rolled my eyes and continued out of the darkened hallway, not interested in having the conversation there.
More so, it really was none of his fucking business. The last time it was his business was about ten minutes before he’d gotten drafted. When he’d taken me as a date to a dinner, where we’d celebrated his getting drafted.
“Ares, stop,” Ryan hissed, pulling me to a stop in the shadows.
I gritted my teeth and ignored his hand that would’ve once sent butterflies exploding in my belly.
Now it only sent anger spearing through my veins.
I yanked my arm away and glared at him. “Make me.”
When I would’ve once again started off, he did make me stop.
I glared when he caught my arm again, this time tightening his hold.
I wouldn’t be escaping with the same move again.
“Let. Me. Go,” I ordered. “Now.”
“Hayes is bad news, Ares.” Ryan ignored my order. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ryan, let me go!”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “He’s not right in the head, Ares. No joke. He’s not.”
I growled. “If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream.”
He growled and let me go, and I barely resisted the urge to rub my arm where he’d been squeezing.
Logically, I knew that he hadn’t meant to hurt me.
He’d never been rough before and actually hated it when he saw my brother do what brothers did—i.e., hurt me just to see me cry.
So I didn’t say a word about how my arm now stung.
Instead, I turned on my heels and walked back to the table, thankful that he hadn’t stopped me.
I arrived at the table and sat down with a growl of frustration.
My brother and dad were talking to Saylor and Brooke, which suited me just fine. If they paid attention to me, they’d see that I was pissed. Then they’d assume that the asshat was to blame and would start something of it.
Ryan sat down seconds after I did, wrapping his arm around Brooke’s shoulder and pulling her in tight to his chest.
She smiled at him, but then went back to her conversation with Saylor.
I rubbed my arm and surreptitiously glanced down at it to see if it was red.
And it was, of course.
Goddammit.
I shifted in my seat, trying to hide it as best as I could, then decided that I would need to cover it up completely.
Reaching for the simple shawl that was draped over the chair, I picked it up and draped it over my shoulders, arranging it perfectly so that it covered my arm.
When I looked up from doing that, it was to see Hayes’ eyes on me. Or, more specifically, the red mark on my arm that his brother had caused.
His eyes flicked to mine, and I all but pleaded with him not to say anything.
He gritted his teeth, the muscles of his jaw flexing in annoyance, then went back to staring at the table as he took a drink.
I breathed out a sigh of relief and reached for the whiskey that’d been placed onto the table in my spot.
Taking a short swig, I nearly cried as fire licked down my throat following the liquid.
When I looked back up, it was to see amusement in Hayes’ eyes.
I looked away and contemplated pulling out my phone to pass the time, but quickly dismissed that idea.
The fastest way to get my brother to pay attention to me was pull out my phone.
So instead, I sat there like a good little girl, laughed at the appropriate times, and finished off my whiskey before the meal started.
When the meal was finished, I’d only eaten a quarter of what they’d served. The rest had gone to my brother or father.
I was a very picky eater.
I didn’t eat fish—because gross.
I didn’t eat green stuff—because double gross.
And I didn’t eat anything that resembled snot—triple gross.
Sadly, the main course was fish. There was a salad. And then the followup was a yellow custard concoction that really did resemble phlegm.
I’d passed the majority of the meal off to my brother and dad, who happily took the food because the portion sizes were too small.
I really couldn’t see how they got off charging two hundred bucks for this.
Five courses was nice and all, but the portion sizes were jokes.
I could eat a Whataburger meal with a large fry and still be hungry. And they thought a piece of meat the size of four AA batteries was going to cut it? Yeah, no.
I made a mental note to stop by Whataburger on the way home from my parents’ and returned to the meal.
Luckily, the night went off rather smoothly after that.
The auction was a success, and Ryan upped the winning bid to almost a quarter of a million dollars before a football player ended up winning the painting done by a local artist for this event specifically.
In the end, I wasn’t the least bit sad that the night was coming to a close.
“Well,” Ryan said as he stood. “It’s been fun. But I have a game tomorrow in Atlanta. Hope y’all have a great rest of your evening.”
Saylor was the only one to say goodbye to Ryan.
The rest of us said goodbye to Brooke.
Well, all of us but Hayes, who leaned back in his chair and watched them go without a word.
I breathed a sigh of relief and felt my shawl dip, exposing my likely-bruised arm.
When I yanked it back up and glanced around to see if anybody had seen, the only person I saw staring was Hayes.
And he looked pissed.
Even more pissed than before.
“I gotta go, too,” Hayes mumbled. “Have a good one.”
Ryan hadn’t even made it all the way across the floor yet, having been caught by another baseball player.
Hayes slipped past him easily and kept walking, disappearing into the darkened corridor that led to the parking lot.
I yawned. “I really should be going, too.”
Dad reached into his pocket and stood.
Lock did as well, my mother having taught them manners that when a lady stands, boys did, too.
“Go. I’ll catch a ride home with Lock and Saylor,” Dad said, handing me his keys.
I blew out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Dad. Tomorrow is a testing day, and you know how those days are.”
Dad nodded and gestured for me to go. “If you hurry, you can catch up to the group already walking out. Then I won’t worry about you.”
The ‘group’ was a few members of his old SWAT team and their wives.
I smiled and waved, punched my brother in the butt as hard as I could, and hauled ass to catch up to the group.
Only, when I got to them, they were caught at the door and had to talk to the coordinator of the ball.
I grimaced and slipped around them, avoiding eye contact so they wouldn’t be tempted to pull me into the conversation.
Luckily, I got out of the room without a word.
I even slipped out into the chilly night air without notice as well.
When I got outside, I decided that my heels had to go because there was no way I would be making it across t
he cracked parking lot in one piece if I didn’t.
Slipping them off one by one, I started around the building toward my dad’s truck, taking the long way which enabled me to stay on the concrete for as long as possible.
It was that act right there that enabled me to sneak up on Hayes and Ryan as I turned the corner.
“…put your hands on her and left a mark,” Hayes growled, getting up into Ryan’s face.
Brooke, who was staring stunned beside them, took a step back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hayes.” Ryan jerked himself away from Hayes. “Get off me.”
“You left a mark on her arm. You followed her to the bathroom,” Hayes said. “She has a mark on her arm from you grabbing her that’s likely gonna bruise.”
Speaking of bruise, I could feel the mark throbbing right then.
“I did not,” Ryan growled, pushing Hayes.
Hayes let himself be pushed. “Don’t ever touch her again, Ryan.”
Hayes’ lethal voice had me shivering as a jolt of something not altogether unpleasant powered through my veins.
Turning on my heel, I hurried in the direction of my dad’s truck, cutting through the flower bed to do so.
By the time I arrived at his truck and had it unlocked, I chanced a look at the corner of the building.
The only ones I saw there were Brooke and Ryan.
No Hayes at all.
If I’d only looked behind me, not two car lengths away, he sat on his bike in the shadows, watching me look for him.
Disappointed not to catch a last glance of the man, I got into my dad’s truck and started it up, chancing one more glance around the parking lot for the man who made my heart skip beats.
Sadly, I didn’t see him.
He saw me, though.
Prologue II
**POOF** I lost interest.
-Ares’ secret thoughts
Ares
“What’s going on there?” I asked my dad, staring intently at a shirtless man in a car.
The shirtless man being Derek Roberts.
And he didn’t look very happy at all to have his photo taken.
“Calendar shoot,” Dad answered as he bailed out of the cruiser. “Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”
I rolled my eyes and walked into the station with him, wondering why I was here again.
“Hurry up, Ares. Come on!” I hurried up, but only mildly. Picking up my feet, I may have thrown in an added step every three or four to make myself appear as if I was hurrying when I most certainly was not.
Ask Me If I Care Page 2