Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3)

by Shealy James

  “All right, you two. Enough with all that.” Seth had intervened before any more words were exchanged. “I’m only here for one more day. Let’s go see some of this New York nightlife I’ve heard so much about.”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah immediately rolled off me and stood from the floor. I followed with a grimace feeling the pain still radiating through my back.

  “You don’t need me here. Michael’s watching out for you, and the police know more now that you filed another report. I have to head back to work.”

  “Who’s the girl, Seth?” Sarah’s hands crossed over her chest, and a foot shot out to the side and started tapping against the floor.

  “No one special.”

  She pointed at him. “I knew you weren’t on the phone with work, you ass.”

  Seth clapped his hands and looked at me. “About that nightlife…”

  “I know about some nightlife.” A voice from the door had us all turning our heads. Lana and Moretti were walking in, taking in the plates and beer bottle on the table and the three of us standing around the couch. The second they opened the door and Moretti heard the word nightlife, he lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “All right then. Let’s go find somethin’ fun to do. I’m sick of seeing the inside of this tiny apartment.”

  Sarah

  I was sure Tony would have chosen a strip club as his idea of fun, but I was pleasantly surprised when he brought us to a pinball bar. He said it was more fun than going to a club with all the metrosexual guys grinding up on wannabe strippers. Okay, he might have called the guys a seriously derogatory term and the girls something an ignorant pig would say, but I understood his point. I was happy to leave the tension in the apartment from the push and pull of Michael. I didn’t think my lady parts could take another moment like the tickle tackle.

  The bar was crowded for a Sunday, but the five of us squeezed around a Taxi pinball and a Twilight Zone pinball with a pitcher of beer. The whole night was exactly like the Twilight Zone, like I was back in college without a care or worry in the world. It was so not the New York I imagined before I moved here, but this bar was a nice mix of home and New York. It was comfortable, and comfort was exactly what I needed considering the roller coaster I had been riding lately.

  Of course, it all came crashing down when I went up to the bar for another pitcher. People, primarily men, were filling all the space around the small wooden bar. I squeezed in the first break I saw in the crowd, which trapped me between two stools. I didn’t think twice about being this close to anyone. I was used to crowded bars. My college roommate was in a band for goodness’ sake. We were at the bar almost every weekend. Any time a guy would get handsy, I would slyly move away and tell him no. Maggie used to tell me that I could joke my way out of any situation, and I always knew if jokes weren’t enough, a swift knee to the nuts would work.

  Never fearing men before, it surprised me when someone pressed against my back while I was waiting. I knew instantly it wasn’t Seth, Michael, or Tony. The guy was too short. Hair rose on the back of my neck and a feeling of uneasiness spread throughout my body. When his arm wrapped around me, I tried to squeeze out of the way. His hand pressed against my waist forcing me back against his body and what was definitely not a banana in his pocket.

  “Let me get out of your way,” I shouted over the noise of the bar and bells and whistles of the pinball machines.

  “You’re not in my way,” he said in my ear and pressed me harder against the bar. I knew I had to get away right then. Screw the pitcher. It was suddenly too hot and too crowded in the bar. I could feel the panic rising, and I literally had to remind myself not to be a drama queen and scream. This wasn’t like me. My brain was telling me to pull out one of my old tricks to get away, but my mouth and body were not responding like they used to do.

  “Where’re you going, sweetheart?” the guy asked, pronouncing the pet name like sweethaht. I could smell the beer on his breath as he spoke against my cheek. The second his lips touched my face, my back went ramrod straight, and I froze.

  “My boyfriend and brother,” I blurted out, hoping he’d let me go.

  “I can be your boyfriend tonight.” His hand was starting to wander down to my jeans, over my rear, so I tried again to get away. I elbowed and fought in the small space he allowed me to move. He held tighter. I told him to let go. He responded with a tighter grip and a maniacal chuckle.

  This wasn’t right. It wasn’t like those times a drunken guy’s hand wandered too low or a guy didn’t get the first hint. This guy’s grip told me he could hurt me, just like Jameson had. Jameson. The reminder of what happened was too much, and I rapidly started to beg. “Please let me go.” If he didn’t, I was going to have to resort to screaming.

  He didn’t even loosen his hold in the slightest when the guy next to us started to take notice of my plea.

  “Maybe you should do what she says,” the guy next to us told him.

  The one holding me didn’t take his unfocused eyes off me while he told the other guy, “Mind your own fucking business.” One hand gripped me tightly while the other traveled the front of my jeans past my zipper getting closer and closer to a place he had no right to touch. I worked harder now to squirm away, and just as I broke free from his arm around my waist, I saw the pair of black boots. A calm, commanding voice followed with, “Let her go, asshole.”

  “We’re just playing a game of hard to get. Go find your own,” drunk guy fired back and reached for me again.

  “She is mine!” Michael grabbed the guy forcing him to let me go. I moved behind Michael’s back to hide like a coward while he lifted the guy up and spoke closely to his face. “Next time a girl asks you to let her go, you take your hands off her. You understand?”

  This was the first look I had at the guy. He was some frat guy who looked like he had ten too many. He was the epitome of the guy women needed to avoid. Before, I would have been able to avoid him. I wouldn’t have freaked out the second he pressed against my back. Before, I would have made some joke, grabbed the pitcher, and made my way back to my friends. But that was all before. Before. Before. Before. Now, the fear…it made me weak. There was nothing I hated more than feeling weak.

  Suddenly, Seth and Tony were flanking Michael with Lana behind them. “What’s goin’ on?” my brother asked Michael.

  “Nothing,” I tried, feeling embarrassed enough that Michael felt the need to involve himself.

  “This guy had his hands on your sister,” Michael told him calmly without letting go of drunk guy’s shirt.

  Seth’s face transformed into Angry Seth, and he was in the guy’s face in less than a second. “You had your hands on my sister, motherfucker!” Memories of the time Seth discovered that my high school boyfriend was cheating on me resurfaced. In the middle of a field party, Seth punched Beau in the face, breaking his nose and giving him double black eyes. Beau’s other girlfriend, the trashiest girl in Alabama, freaked out and started screaming before she attacked me. I gave her a swift elbow to the nose when she tried to pull my hair. Crazy bitch and the dirty, no-good, cheating son of a bitch had matching injuries. From that point on, everyone knew not to mess with the Grant twins.

  If this kept up, I imagined we’d be in for another brawl, and I wasn’t up for it. I’d had enough. “Let’s just go,” I begged and put both palms on my brother’s chest. Even though we were twins, he was still several inches taller than I was. He could look right over my head to glare at drunken guy. I glanced at Michael, who was strung tight and ready to rumble. Things weren’t looking too good for Mr. Fratastic behind me.

  Tony saw a fight brewing as well and put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Yeah, man. She’s safe. Let’s go.” He didn’t respond, so Tony patted his shoulder again and repeated himself.

  This time Michael shook his head like he was snapping out of a daze. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” He looked over to me. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I tried to smile, but it came out forced
.

  “Let’s get you home,” Michael said as his arm came around me.

  My brother watched as Michael tucked me into his side then reluctantly turned and led us out of the bar. Tony and Lana stayed behind us. It seemed when we started moving to the door, the noise of the bar picked back up. I hadn’t even noticed it quieted down.

  Back at the apartment, I sat on the couch still drinking the tea Lana insisted I needed while I watched Seth pace the room. “You need to come back home, Sarah. It isn’t safe here. Back home, they know how to treat women.”

  I set the tea on the table and started pleading my case, feeling like I was a teenager in trouble with Daddy again instead of arguing with my brother. “That could happen anywhere, Seth. I’m fine now. I was being silly and panicked for a second. That’s all. I could have handled it myself.”

  “He had his hands on you, Sarah,” Michael spat from the seat next to me.

  “And I was handling it,” I responded in the same tone.

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. Trouble seems to find you too easily.”

  “You think I should go back to Alabama, too?” I cried incredulously. I thought we’d had a breakthrough earlier, but I must have been mistaken if he wanted me to go back to ‘Bama, too.

  He sat there with his hands clasped between his knees and elbows on his thighs. When I asked him if he thought I should go home, he let out a breath and dropped his head. I looked over at Lana for help. She sat on Tony’s lap in the chair where he had his feet propped on the table. He looked confused and flicked his eyes around the room taking in the three of us. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck you’re freaking out about? Sarah’s fine.”

  I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but when I looked up, Lana, Michael, and Seth were glancing at each other.

  “Her ex is after her,” Lana finally said.

  “Lana!” I snapped.

  “What? If he knows, then that’s another pair of eyes looking out for you. Besides, the bastard needs to quit showing up here.”

  “He’s been here again?” Seth snapped and his pacing picked up speed. He was gripping his cell phone, and I knew he was seconds away from calling Daddy.

  “Oh, good gravy,” I groaned as I fell back against the couch. I really was a teenager again.

  “Not lately, but she had to stay at Michael’s the night it all happened because he wouldn’t leave.”

  “She stayed with you?” Seth was on a roll.

  Michael glanced over at Seth. “Guest room, dude. Chill out.”

  “And it wouldn’t matter either way seeing as I am an adult, not that any of you noticed.” I was so frustrated with everyone in the room that I would have done anything to make them all leave the apartment and let me be. I knew it wasn’t going to happen though, so I decided to go to bed…alone. “Now, if y’all will excuse me, I’m going to bed. I’ve seriously had enough for one day.” I stepped around Michael and headed down the small hallway to my bedroom.

  I closed the door and went to my dresser to pull out clothes. Just as I pulled off my top, I heard a quick knock then the door opened. “Oh shit. Sorry,” Michael said.

  I looked over my shoulder then quickly turned and pulled on my light pink tank to match my pink and white striped pants. “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to check on you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You said that.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

  “I meant it.”

  “You didn’t look fine. I saw your face, Sarah. You were scared.”

  “It was all in my head. I felt trapped. It was crowded, and he was holding me. I couldn’t breathe, but like I said, it was all in my head.” It’s because of that son of a gun, Jameson. He ruined me.

  Michael pushed off the wall and came to stand toe-to-toe with me. “I don’t want you to be afraid. I want to know your ex isn’t going to hurt you. I don’t want you to wake up afraid of the memories inside your head. I want you to be able to go out and have fun without feeling the fear that it will all happen again.”

  “You sound like you know what this feels like.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  Suddenly, I felt silly. Michael went through therapy because he watched his friends lose their lives from an IED explosion. I am freaking out over a being hit once or twice and some threatening messages. It was nothing compared to what Michael went through.

  I covered my face with my hands. “Oh, God. I’m such a baby. There I was flippin’ out over some jerk grabbing me when it’s so stupid in the grand scheme of things. Ugh. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” Michael said quietly as he tugged my hands from his face. “You’ve been through some shit, and you’re handling it the best way you can. We would have stepped in had it been any woman, but no one is going to mess with you while I’m around.”

  “What is it with you worrying about my safety?” I asked as gently as I could. “I’m not helpless, you know. It was a momentary freak-out. No need for all this fanfare.”

  “I know you’re not helpless.” He moved to sit on the edge of my bed before moving his elbows to his typical position on his knees. “I don’t know what it is about you. From the moment I saw you, I knew you had something going on. Then I saw him grab you. You looked so scared. All I wanted was to make that look disappear. Yeah, it feels good to protect you, like I have that purpose again, but I know there’s more than that. I just don’t know how much more I can take. I have let down every person who has ever mattered to me. I couldn’t handle letting you down, too.”

  And there it was, the reason we had both attempted to place limitations on our relationship even though we couldn’t get enough of each other. Now, I couldn’t decide if it was a good idea for him to be around. Friendship would only lead to heartbreak, and that pain would be far worse than anything Jameson could ever do to me. I was a girl who fell in love a lot, and in the short time I had known Michael, I felt more for him than I had ever felt for any of the other jerks who made my heart flutter. For some reason, I already knew he was the trump card, the one from whom I’d never recover. The question was—would I be willing to risk it all for the chance that he’d never allow himself to heal?

  I looked up at his face ready to tell him to go home. His eyes were sad and worried, his stubble-covered jaw was tense, and he was staring at me as if I held the future in my hands. Instinct told me to say goodbye, but my heart…it spoke an entirely different kind of poetry.

  I stepped forward and snaked my arms around him. With my head resting on his chest, I said, “Let’s take it one day at a time, Sergeant Pearson.”

  His arms wrapped around me and held my body against his. Then he spoke into my hair. “I look forward to it, Miss Grant.”

  Fourteen

  Michael

  It had been a week since Seth left, and Sarah hadn’t had any trouble—none that I knew of anyway. She was always in good spirits and seemed to be back to the tough girly girl that she had been claiming to be. If I thought I felt something for the girl I met a few weeks ago, it was nothing compared to what was going on inside me now, and she, without a doubt, felt the same.

  When she wasn’t in class or at the VA, she was with me. She came to the track while I worked on a 1970 Porche 911T Targa. I had to take the engine completely apart, and I didn’t mind having a pretty blonde keep me company while doing it. She told me all about life on the farm while she handed me tools, and I told her stories about growing up with Phil and Joe. I liked having her in the garage; especially after I found out she knew her way around a tool box.

  “Hand me the wrench that’s next to you,” I had asked her while I kept my head under the car.

  “Which one is that?” she asked as she lifted up the tools as if they were going to bite her.

  I rolled out from under the car and was about to describe it to her when she came and stood right above me dangling the torque wrench. Between the grin on her face, the short skirt that would give me a show if t
he wind blew just right, and the way the light bounced off her hair, she could have been posing for a magazine. My body reacted to her without the help of the stimulating visual, but seeing her in the garage like that almost killed me.

  “Don’t underestimate a girl who can drive a tractor.”

  “She shoots guns, knows her tools, and can drive a tractor. Why would a girl like you ever need a man?”

  “I can think of a few reasons,” she sang.

  “I’m sure you can.” I could think of a few reasons, but those were not the thoughts I needed running through my head. I was having a hard enough time keeping my hands off her as it was.

  “I can,” she said then leaned down closer to me with a playful grin, “but I appreciate your misogynistic view on gender roles.”

  I rolled my eyes and rolled back under the car on my back. “You know I was kidding. I was just saying you are a renaissance woman. There’s nothing you can’t do.” I snuck a peek from under the car when she didn’t respond right away. I saw that the compliment made her blush, and I felt like a hero again.

  “I can’t fly,” she mused, reminding me of her sass that I enjoyed so much. “Or read minds.”

  “I don’t know about that second one being true. The flying thing, we’ll see what we can do about that one, but the mind reading? I think you’ve already figured that one out.”

  She laughed and went on to ask me what power I would want if I were a superhero. Like any guy who grew up reading comics would do, I explained to her the pros and cons of each superhero and never actually answered her question. There were too many variables to consider when only picking one power, but I enjoyed discussing it with her for longer than we probably should have.

  That Thursday we went to poker night. What started out originally as guys’ night had morphed into some kind of weird couples’ night even though Sarah and I weren’t technically together, and Jay never brought a woman around. According to Tony, he and Lana were just screwing, but I doubted it when he followed her into the house like a puppy carrying a case of Corona. Sarah showed up with two kinds of delicious Mexican dip, and I couldn’t figure out how she had time to put it together considering she was at the VA all day. It was a good thing she was prepared since Phil had stopped letting Amy cook two weeks ago when she almost burned her belly on the gas stove.