“What’d she do now?”
Dodge’s question drew his mind back to the present. Ignoring it completely, he asked, “Do you know where she’s staying?”
Dodge shook his head.
“Her number?”
“Nope.”
Nope? Dodge had no way to contact his kid’s mother? “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“I’m not. She moved out months ago, called maybe twice to talk to her kid.”
His jaw hardened.
“Yeah, you heard right. Twice. Though that was just an excuse, what she really wanted was money. I haven’t heard from her since I filed for divorce. My lawyer called her, that’s when he told me her phone’s been disconnected. So if you find her, you let her know I want those papers signed.”
Shit. If he didn’t find Lilliam, Em would go on thinking he cheated, go on thinking she had every reason to leave him.
“What’s going on, Rip?”
He fisted his hands. “Need to find her.”
“What’d she do now?”
Eyes hard, he sliced them to Dodge and jerked his head side to side. “It’s a small town. You’re telling me you haven’t seen her?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m thinking she was staying in town, I’d know.”
Fuck.
“The suspense is killing me.” Sarcasm bit Dodge’s tone. “Are you finally going to tell me what she did?”
He swallowed thickly. “I tell you there’s a chance you won’t believe me.”
Dodge held his stare for a second before he said, “Something to do with Em.”
Surprising, Rip didn’t know what to say though he supposed he shouldn’t be.
“You’ve got to give me more credit than that, Rip.” Dodge shook his head. “Em… That girl was too in love with you to see straight. Her leaving the way she did never made any sense.”
That girl was too in love with you to see straight. Another reminder she’d loved him but didn’t anymore. He fought the ache in his chest and focused on the present.
Dodge lifted a brow. “Lilliam having something to do with it? That makes perfect sense.”
His brother had a point. Em leaving hadn’t made any sense. It’s why it hurt so much. Who would’ve thought feisty, bullheaded Em wouldn’t have confronted him had she thought he cheated. Why hadn’t she? If she had, none of this would’ve happened. Didn’t that make it as much her fault as Lilliam’s for believing it?
“Sorry I woke Cullen.” He turned and walked away, knowing he had no choice but to find Lilliam and make her tell Em the truth.
****
“Rip.”
Having spotted Bud perched outside the door leading into the garage as he drove in, Ripper knew what’d come.
“Don’t tell me you believe her.”
What the fuck? How did Bud know? “What’re you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about…her fucking sob story.”
Taking a step in his direction, he snarled, “You listening to my conversations? You grew a pussy in the last five years I didn’t know about?”
“I listened to her conversation with that cop. You wanna know what she told him?”
Shit. Bud had? Why hadn’t he? He should’ve.
“She said you cheated on her. I know that’s a fuckin’ lie. Everyone knows that’s a fuckin’ lie. Now, she’s been crying her eyes out for hours. You’ve been MIA for hours, not answering anyone’s calls. I know she told you some sob story. Pretty sure it ain’t the same ’cause no way in hell you’d believe you did something you know you didn’t.” Bud threw his hands out. “But, brother, if me looking out for you means I gotta pussy, then I gotta pussy.”
He didn’t say a word.
“She’s been here for a month, and you’re already her whipping boy: getting her a job, fighting customers who hit on her. But she’s Em, so you’d probably sell your soul to the devil if she told you to.”
He grinded his teeth. “Fuck you.”
Bud leaned into him. “You’re the one who’s fucked. She destroyed you, made you a living, breathing zombie.”
His brother had to be kidding—giving him shit after the shit day he had?
“A very pissed off, living, breathing, zombie.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know you—”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know—”
“You don’t—”
“I know—”
“She came on to me.”
Bud reared back, eyes widening. He shook his head. “You didn’t—”
“Lilliam had been at it a while. She was fuckin’ relentless. After Em left for school in the mornings, Lilliam would come into our room. As a tap, she wasn’t even supposed to be in the compound. I got no clue how she continued getting in, but she did. She got in bed with me a couple of times, so I started getting up earlier.”
He released a breath. “That last day…the day Em left, I was in the shower when I heard the door and saw Lilliam, naked. I told her to leave before I got her kicked off club property. She left.”
“You didn’t.”
He hardened his jaw. “I didn’t, but it doesn’t make a difference ’cause what I didn’t know was that Lilliam left her thong on our bed. I didn’t know Em got outta school early and saw Lilliam leave our room. Then Lilliam said some shit to make her think we did.”
Bud’s gaze slid away. He sighed then finally met his eyes again. “So she’s kicking her own ass for believing Lilliam, now?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t tell her. What’s the point? She didn’t believe in me then, why’d she believe what I have to say now?”
“So…”
“So I’m gonna find Lilliam and make her tell Em the truth.”
Bud widened his eyes. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”
He glared. “No.”
“You just said she wouldn’t believe you—”
“She’ll believe Lilliam.” Then and there, he had to believe that.
Bud dropped his head, shook it then met his stare. “After all this time, what difference does it make?”
Ripper didn’t know, what he knew—he needed Em to know the truth. “Need her to know.”
“Ha,” Bud scoffed. “What makes you think she’ll believe Lilliam, now?”
He didn’t know, but he had to try.
The door to the front of the garage slammed open and out came Strike, shaking his head. His gaze went to Bud’s then met Ripper’s. “She stopped crying, but she isn’t talking.”
Before Strike finished the sentence, Ripper headed toward him then past.
“She’s still out back.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Strike. “She’s been out there all this time?” The question came out in a yell.
Strike nodded.
He cursed. He’d been gone for hours. This time of year, it got cold then colder and colder as the night went on. When he left her, she wore a thin sweater.
Picking up his pace, he headed through the compound, ignoring half-naked taps and his brothers along the way. He went out the back and found her right where he left her, hiding behind the bark of the tree. She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, head bent, arms resting on the back of her head.
He wrapped one arm around her back, the other under her knees, and hefted her up in one swift movement. Her hands resting between them, her head fell onto his chest. Against the fabric of his tee, he felt her ice-cold cheek.
Clenching his jaw, he carried her inside the compound, up the stairs, and into his room. In his bathroom, he set her on the toilet. There, he got the first good look at her face. Eyes swollen from crying yet unseeing, her expression could only be described as grieved, the type of pain that never went away. It struck him, wounded him, making his heart squeeze tightly in his chest, and it scared the shit out of him too. He hadn’t known what to do before, he sure as hell didn’t know what to do now.
&
nbsp; Turning on the shower, he tempered it hotter than normal. “You gonna take off your clothes?”
She didn’t move, didn’t blink. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing, so he had no idea if she heard him.
He carried her then stepped into the shower, clothes, shoes, and all. As the water sprayed down on them, she gasped. His arms around her tightened, she briefly struggled against him. He kept them under the shower head for several moments. When she stopped moving, he placed her on her feet and wrapped one arm around her waist. Pulling her wet hair from her face, he angled her head to meet his stare. Even with water dripping around them, her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Why’d you do that?”
“W-what?”
“You trying to get yourself sick? You’ve been out in the cold for hours.”
Eyes widening, she hesitated for moments too long. “I’m wearing a sweater.”
“That thin-ass sweater isn’t gonna do shit, Em. Your cheeks are still ice cold.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in closer until her chest pressed against his.
She held his gaze without saying a word, her eyes softening more and more by the minute.
He remembered that look. She used to look at him like that a lot. He didn’t know why she did it now, but he missed seeing it so much it made him ache at the loss of it.
All because of a lie.
“Can I trust you to warm up by yourself?”
When she didn’t say a word, he said, “I can do it for you. Then we’ll be doing a lot more than warming up.” Just the thought of it had his cock hardening.
She looked away. “I’ll be fine.”
Shit. He hoped. For a moment there, he thought she might. He’d been lucky once, it could happen again, right?
Pulling away, he stepped out of the shower. “I’ll get you a towel.”
He took off his shoes, socks, and clothes leaving only his boxers on before he went about finding her a clean towel. After placing it on the sink for her, he walked into his room, took off his boxers, and dried off then dressed.
She took a while, long enough he became impatient and headed for the bathroom door, long enough when he parted it, hot steam hit his face. She’d turned up the heat a lot. He remembered she loved hot showers.
He stepped inside. “Are you about done?”
“W-what?”
Glancing down at the floor, he spotted her wet clothes piled on top of his. Then he shifted his gaze, seeing her shadow through the steamed glass. She stood under the pelting hot water.
“I asked if you’re about done.”
“I… Yeah,” she said but made no move.
He waited for a minute before he lost patience. “Em, unless you want me to go in there and get you out myself, I suggest you start moving.”
Turning off the shower, she parted the glass door and poked her arm out. He handed her the towel. She wrapped it around herself then stepped out.
The pale skin on her face, chest, and arms stained red from the heat, her hair dripping wet behind her, she met his gaze. He then noticed her eyes were still swollen and red-rimmed, no longer sightless, just blank. The grief wiped from her face, but it, too, was vacant, like no one was home. He knew that blankness was worse, much worse.
Lost in that look, he didn’t realize moments had passed until she shivered, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“It’s late. Should get to bed.”
She nodded and finally moved. Coming to a stop in front of the sink, she wrung her long hair ridding it of excess water. When she turned again, she stood too close, so he forced himself to move away and out of the bathroom. He reached into one of his drawers and found a tee. By the time he turned to her, she was opening the door to his room. He took several long strides. From behind, he wound an arm around her waist lifting her and pulling her back and away from the door as he simultaneously closed it.
“What are you…” Her voice trailed off when he set her down.
Angling himself so he stood in front of her, he handed her his tee. “Dry up, put it on, and then bed.” When he said “bed,” he motioned toward his with his chin.
Her eyes widened. The blank look gone for a moment replaced with something that looked a lot like shock…or fear. He didn’t know for sure.
Before she said anything, he did. “I’m not leaving you alone.” He hardened his eyes, so she’d know he meant what he said. “Not tonight. Tomorrow, you wanna go back to your room, you can. I won’t keep you here, but tonight, you’re staying with me.”
Her eyes rounded and watered. She brought her hands to her chest and clutched his tee.
Terrified. She was fucking terrified, like hurting her wouldn’t hurt him too.
“I remember correctly, last time, it was you who jumped into bed with me.” He leaned into her. “When I woke up, you were cuddled close. Just like before. Just like you used to.”
Her jaw dropped. Cheeks tinted pink. “I…I…”
Shit. She didn’t remember. She’d probably thought he was her cop. He’d just made himself look like an idiot. He was for even bringing it up. It meant nothing to her. He meant nothing to her.
“I’ll sleep on the floor. Just sleep, yeah?”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why can’t I just go?”
He was exhausted but too amped up to sleep himself. Still, he knew he’d fall soundlessly if she lay beside him. That wasn’t the reason he wanted her in his bed though. She’d been crying for hours out in the cold. He’d left her there thinking she didn’t want him near, but now, he had to do what he could to make sure she was okay. “’Cause—”
“I’m not leaving. I wouldn’t do that to Bree.”
“Get in bed, Em.”
“I won’t—”
“Get. In. Bed.”
“Just—”
“Get. In. Bed. Em.”
“Please—”
“I need to make sure you’re okay, so get in bed before I fuckin’ put you in bed. I’m warning you, I put you in, I’m not leaving.”
Her eyes widened.
He hadn’t meant to admit it, but he didn’t regret it since it made her hesitate for a moment too long. In the next instant, he snaked his arm around her waist, bent to wrap the other under her knees, picked her up, and dropped her on the bed then climbed in.
“Bryce, I—”
He lay on the mattress. “Sleep.”
She tugged on his tee, only allowing the towel to fall away when it fully covered her. He fought to keep his eyes forward and barely managed it.
“Do—”
She could frustrate a saint, and he was losing the last of his patience. Closing his eyes tightly, he barked, “Sleep. Em. Fuckin’. Sleep.”
“The lights.”
He shifted to look at her. “Then you’ll shut it and sleep?”
She nodded.
He stood, went to the bathroom, turned off the light then headed for the lamp near his bedroom door and did the same. The whole room fell into darkness.
As he got into bed, he warned, “I wake up and you’re gone, I’m gonna be pissed, Em.” He lay down. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.” She whispered, but it sounded like she’d started crying again.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. No way in hell he’d sleep knowing she lay a foot away crying, so he didn’t. Within minutes, her breaths evened out, and she cuddled close. Only then did he let himself drift off.
Chapter Eleven
Her head pounded so hard she swore it’d split in two. Eyes swollen, she refused to try to part them. No wonder. Last night, she cried for hours. She’d only sobbed so much once. Still, she knew she had to try. She couldn’t stay in bed.
She slid her eyes open and remembered where she was—Bryce’s bed. On her side, her gaze landed on the door leading into the bathroom. Her back pressed against the heat of a body. That same warmth snaked around her waist. Carefully, she angled her head to look down and
found an arm wrapped around her waist, his arm. One of his legs in between hers, his face at her neck as his breaths heated her skin.
It felt good. She woke up every day for more than five years wishing she had this. It was bittersweet knowing it meant nothing to him and everything to her, and even knowing that, she’d give an arm to wake up like this every day for the rest of her life.
God, she was pathetic. Sleeping beside the man who destroyed her was stupid. Wanting him was weak. Still loving him was pathetic.
He tightened his arm around her waist. Then he shifted. She stilled, holding her breath. He rubbed his face against her shoulder blade inhaling as he glided a hand to her lower abdomen and pressed his hips against her. Feeling the length of his shaft on her butt, she jumped slightly.
A second later, he spoke in his groggy, deep voice. “Fuck.”
She held her breath, hoping to God he’d go back to sleep. No way in hell he’d look at her and not know how much she enjoyed waking up like that.
“Know you’re awake, Em.”
Her chest warmed. He used to call her “Em” all the time. He was never much for pet names, only “babe” when he teased her, but he’d called her “Em” all the time. Even though she’d been living at the compound for close to a month, he never called her Em or by her full name, not until last night. She wasn’t that stupid to think it meant something though. He probably felt bad for her. Poor, weak, pathetic Em going all those years still loving a man who never loved her, loving a man who broke her.
She didn’t know what she expected. She never imagined seeing him again, never imagined telling him why she left. He made her, and she had. All it cost her—more heartbreak. He’d been shocked. Of course, he never knew she knew and proved it last night. And the fact he didn’t have anything to say, not an excuse, not an apology, was because it was the truth. He broke her again, and she had to watch him walk away. Ironic that the last time she’d run away.
That hadn’t been enough for him. He forced her in the shower, making her think he cared about her getting sick when he’d been the one to leave her outside for hours. Then he made her sleep in bed with him.
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