Finding Serenity (The Unexpected Love Series Book 2)

by Black, T. E.

  I can't say Trent is the only reason I'm crying because I'd be lying. The other worry on my mind is what I'm going to do about money. I need this job as badly as I don't want to need it. Without this extra income, I'm going to fall behind. I'll never be able to afford the apartment without a second job. What the fuck am I going to do?

  I feel Gunner's thumb brush over my cheek while his other hand comes up to cradle my cheek. He turns my head slightly, causing me to face him. My eyes dart in the opposite direction, hoping to avoid the thoughtful look on his face.

  "Look at me, babe," he urges.

  When my eyes meet his, I know he can see my fear. Gunner has always been able to see right through me. Since the first day I met him, he's been one of my best friends. We may not spend a lot of time together, but we don't need to. We both know deep down, we’d do anything for each other.

  "You're not alone. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll help you survive without him. You're better than this," he whispers.

  I stare wide-eyed at him as he moves in closer, brushing his lips against my own. I know it's wrong, but I don't stop it. I need what he's giving me right now. I need to feel loved instead of feeling broken. That's what Trent did. He broke me.

  "Gunner ...”

  I start to tell him it's not right, but he interrupts me when his mouth captures mine painfully slow. My fingers wrap around his neck, and his arms wrap around my waist before he pulls me on top of him.

  I straddle him, blocking out the warning bells going off in my mind. I lose myself in the sensation of being loved. I feel nothing but Gunner's hands on me. I feel his breath on my neck, and his erection pressing into me with desire. It makes me feel whole again.

  "I love you, Shay. I've loved you since the first time I saw you. Pick me, Shay. I won't hurt you. Don't choose him again."

  The words leave his mouth, and my body freezes. My blood runs cold, and my heart beat increases. I pull away from him momentarily, only to stare at him wide-eyed and confused.

  "I ... I ...” I stammer.

  "You've gotta be fucking kiddin' me!"

  Gunner's hands go stiff and his body rigid. He looks past me, his line of sight directed toward the front door. He doesn't try to push me off him, but he regains his composure, tightening his grip on me seamlessly.

  I turn to the voice belonging to the man I love and freeze like a deer in headlights. I expect to see anger in his eyes, but instead, I see pain.

  Trent stands in the doorway dressed in a black suit, holding at least two dozen red roses. His free hand is balled at his side, and his fingers are clutching the stems of the roses so hard I'm sure there's blood dripping down his hand. His eyes go from still and pained to wild. His nostrils flare, and his breathing becomes erratic.

  "How the fuck could ya?" he screams into the silent building.

  "Trent, please," I whisper back.

  He holds up his free hand, dismissing me aggressively. "I wasn't fucking talking to ya, Shay. I was talkin' to the motherfucker who was supposed to be my best friend!"

  Gunner huffs, removing me from his lap and placing me behind him protectively. The gesture is endearing, but it causes Trent to snap. The flowers crash to the floor, the red petals slipping across it. He stalks toward us, moving quickly toward me. I watch his Chucks pound down on the black and white tiled floor, losing myself in what's happening. Gunner stumbles backward, his weight knocking me over with such a force that I don't even realize Trent punched him in the face until it’s too late. Thankfully, the couch in the waiting room catches me while both men go at each other's throats. I have to stop this, and I do the only thing I can think of. I right myself, standing from the couch and moving to the side of them. I place one hand on Trent's chest, and he freezes while taking a punch to the side of the face from Gunner.

  "Stop." My voice comes out steady, but my insides are crying out.

  Gunner stops, looking at me with a worried expression on his face. I study his now forming black eyes before I turn to Trent. He looks worse than Gunner does, but not in a way that tells me he's gotten the shit kicked out of him. He looks pale and thin. He looks sick, and it tells me he's sober. He's getting sick from not using anymore.

  "Let's go," I tell him, grabbing his hand in mine.

  He turns to me, his eyes softening and his hand gripping mine. He doesn't answer as he leads us out to his truck, where he opens the door for me and I climb inside. Rounding the truck, he hops into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. We don't speak the entire car ride, and when we pull up in front of his house, I watch his eyes silently asking me if I want to come inside. I reach for the door handle, opening it while I give him his answer.

  I move up the steps to his front door, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself. I'm an asshole. I left Gunner at the shop and left with Trent. Gunner will never talk to me again, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't speak to me either.

  Trent walks in front of me, opening the door shakily, and we step inside. The house is dark and completely silent. Trent has yet to say anything to me, and it scares the shit out of me.

  I follow him into his kitchen where he fumbles through the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. He twists the cap from it, taking a long pull of the dark liquid. His body relaxes instantly, and he sags against the granite countertop. I feel my irritation growing with each second passing. He's standing a foot in front of me drowning himself in whiskey.

  I guess nothing has changed.

  "Are you going to fucking stand there and drink all night, or are you going to tell me why you brought me to your house?" I snap.

  He looks at me over the bottle tipped in his hand, his brows furrowing.

  "What the fuck do ya want me to say, Shay? I just caught ya hookin' up with my best friend! So I guess that's the fucking question I should be asking you. Why, Shay? Why the fuck did ya do it?" he snarls, slamming the bottle on the island between us.

  The bottle shatters in Trent's hand, the glass cascading to the floor with a sharp screech, much like our relationship. Blood trickles down his palm, adhering to the glass remaining on the counter. The glass becomes tainted, coated with red stains of devastation.

  "I needed you, and you weren't there."

  Trent's head snaps to me, his eyes burning holes through me. There's a fiery glow in his eyes, and it threatens to set me on fire. I don't mistake it for what it is—hate. He hates me for what I've done to him.

  "You needed me?" he snarls, pushing off the island top.

  He stalks around, pressing his body into mine as he stops behind me. His large tattooed hands grip the counter in front of me while they squeeze the granite. I feel his breath on my neck, the heat from his body creating a wave of anxiety.

  "You needed me?" he questions again.

  "Yes," I answer in a small voice.

  His nose runs up the side of my throat, my pulse sprinting erratically under the pressure. His mouth reaches the exposed skin between my neck and my shoulder, and he places a toxic kiss atop it.

  "I was right there, kitten. I was behind ya while you kissed my best friend like you needed him. I stood there, dressed in this fucking suit, holding those fucking roses, hoping I could convince ya to come back to me, but what a fucking fool I was. I should’ve seen ya for what you've always been, a whore. Now, get the fuck outta my house."

  My mouth gapes open, and by the time I spin around to face Trent, he's already walking to the front door. I take the moment to admire how good he actually looks all dressed up, and I can't believe I didn't appreciate it. Trent never dresses up, nor does he do flowers, and the fact he did makes me nauseous. He's right. I’m a whore. I dance for a living, and I kissed the love of my life’s best friend.

  Trent holds open the front door, and I walk toward it.

  This is what I get.

  I did this.

  I stop in front of him, my lips placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. A lone tear rolls down my face and hits the skin exposed by my red peep toes
.

  "I'll always love you, Trent. I'm sorry," I say softly, walking straight out of his life, never looking back.

  Mario – “Let Me Love You”

  I FEEL MY phone vibrating in my jean pocket when I pull my Harley off to the side of the road. Generally, I'd keep driving if I was getting a phone call, but I've been worried sick about Shay all fucking night. It's been two hours since the incident at the shop, and I haven't stopped chain smoking since. I know Trent's pissed off at me, but he needs to get the fuck over it. He knows deep down he doesn't deserve Shay the way I do. I’ve spent every moment since the first time I laid eyes on her trying to win her over, then that motherfucker just comes walking in and sweeps my girl right off her fucking high-heeled feet. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to win her over, not him.

  I look down to see Shay's name flashing across my screen, and I hit the answer button quickly.

  "Shay?"

  I hear her cries, followed by her pleads.

  "Gunner, I'm so sorry!" Hiccup. "Can you please come pick me up? Trent kicked me out. Please! I'm so sorry!"

  "Where are you, babe?" I question, already positioning my bike to pull back into traffic.

  She rattles off where she is, and I tell her to hold on.

  I'll be there, babe.

  I start up my bike again and speed toward her.

  Trent is a fucking asshole.

  I SIT IN Shay's living room while she puts Abby to bed. As I sit here, my mind spins with the unknown. I want to tell her so many things. I want to convince her of so many things. I want to convince her to love me the way I love her. I'd be her second best if that's what she needed me to be. I'm fucking lovesick over her. I'd never hurt her. I'd protect her and love her with everything I had.

  "Hey. Do you need anything?" Shay asks, taking a seat beside me.

  I reach, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into my chest. My chin rests on her head of black and red hair while her hand grips my bicep.

  "I've got everything I need, babe," I speak quietly.

  "I love you, Gunner," she whispers, burying her face in my shirt to cry.

  I rub her back, letting her get it all out. We don't need to talk about what happened because this is how it will always be for us. We'll always love each other from a distance, and I'll let it happen for as long as I can. I know it's wrong, but I can't help feeling what's right. She and I—we're right for each other.

  “Shay, stop crying, babe. Please. I hate hearing you like this.”

  She mumbles an inconsistency of words, and I don’t catch one of them. I pull her up from my chest, forcing her to look at me.

  “Deep breaths, babe. Deep breaths.”

  Shay finally takes a deep breath, her mascara running down her cheeks.

  “Good, babe. Good. Now, talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I feel dirty, Gunner,” she admits.

  Dirty? Is she kidding? Why would she feel that way? She’s beautiful.

  “You’re not.”

  “But … you didn’t see the way he looked at me, Gunner. When he told me to get the fuck out of his house … he meant it. He called me a whore for kissing you …”

  Leave it to him to break her like this. He always has to have the last word. It never makes a difference to him whether he hurts someone in the process or not. So long as he feels good about himself, everyone else can suffer without consideration.

  “Shay, he’s just pissed. He said that shit to get under your skin. You’re not a whore, baby. You’re anything but. You’re an amazing woman, and if he can’t see how lucky he is to have you, then fuck him, Shay.”

  Shay snuggles into me, placing a lingering kiss on my cheek.

  “I love you, Gunner.”

  “I love you too, Shay.”

  The Weeknd – “Shameless”

  "WELCOME TO BARE. Can I get you something to drink?" The cute brunette bartender asks in a spunky voice, which annoys the shit out of me.

  "Something dark and strong," I sound out, raking my eyes over her less-than-there outfit.

  Her body is barely covered in a black lace bra and shorts that could be considered underwear while the word Bare is stamped across the cheeks of her ass. She's a good-looking girl but definitely young.

  When Tony called this morning wanting to meet, I can't say it didn't strike me as odd. Not to mention, his meeting spot of choice, Bare. A "classy" Go-Go bar.

  "What's your name, sweetheart?" I question while she places my drink on the bar.

  She smiles wide, batting her eyelashes at me.

  "Jessica."

  She extends her tiny hand, and I take it with ease. Her eyes drink me in, and normally, I'd be doing the same, but the only woman on my mind is Shay. But that doesn't stop me from being polite as I take her hand in mine.

  "Nice to meet ya, Jessica. I'm Trent."

  She nods, fiddling with the bar towel in her left hand.

  "What brings you here? I haven't seen you here before. Business or pleasure?"

  There's a hopeful tone in her voice, but I crush any hopes she may have.

  "Business. I'm here to meet Anthony."

  Her body goes stiff, and she sucks in a sharp breath.

  "I'll go get him," she says, before taking off through the club.

  What the fuck?

  I sit for a few minutes, sipping my drink while I wait for Jessica to come back, and when I feel a hand clamp on my shoulder, I know it's Tony. I spin around on my stool; Tony’s standing there, and Jessica is on the side of him looking nervous as fuck. She won't make eye contact anymore, and I wonder what the fuck Tony has done to her. She's obviously afraid of him.

  "Trent. Nice to see you. Thank you for meeting me. It seems Jessica here intercepted you before you could see me. Was she a proper hostess?" he draws out the word hostess, making it sound filthy.

  I flick my eyes to Jessica, who’s staring at me now, but with pleading eyes. The poor girl. I wonder why such a beautiful girl like her is working in a place like this. What the hell led her here? What led her to such a tainted path in life?

  I turn back to Tony, putting on my biggest smile.

  "Jessica was an excellent hostess. I take it ya own this place? You're quite the businessman."

  I look at Jessica again, seeing her thank me with her expression.

  You're welcome, sweetheart.

  "I’m a man of many trades, Mr. Wallace. Now, for our meeting. Follow me to my office, and Jessica will get you another drink once we're seated."

  I oblige, following him through the crowd until we reach a door leading into his office. Once inside, Tony gestures for me to take a seat in the leather office chairs positioned in front of his desk.

  "So Trent. You see, the reason I asked you to come here today is because I think I may owe you an apology. I've been shrewd with you, and with you being a business owner yourself, I feel as if my demands from you were wrong."

  He clears his throat as he continues, and the hairs on my neck stand up as I hear the door open.

  "Is another whiskey okay, Trent?" Jessica questions as she hands me the glass.

  I give her an approving nod while she places Tony's drink in front him sheepishly. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Tony has hurt her before. I'm not sure why I even give a fuck, but I guess I feel like this is my chance to make up for all the bad shit I've done.

  "Jessica, be a dear and retrieve Mr. Wallace after our meeting. I want you to show him what our club is all about. I'll put a bonus in your check if Mr. Wallace enjoys himself tonight."

  I stare at Tony wide-eyed. I start to turn his offer down, but before I can, he holds up his hand, dismissing Jessica and silencing me. As Jessica leaves the office, she keeps her head down, staring at the floor the whole way out.

  "Jessica's services really won't be necessary, Tony."

  He lets out a chuckle, bringing his glass of brandy to his lips.

  "Trent, just take my offer, son. Don't be
foolish. The only reason I'm letting you off the hook with the tattoo shop is because I found out a few things. Now, I usually don't feel sorry, but for you, I feel bad. I heard your girlfriend left you, your girlfriend's husband is now paying her child support, which means he'll take her for a custody battle, and your mother passed away. Those are all stressful things. I did also hear one of your good friends, a Mr. Malcolm Davis, and his lovely fiancée filed for their marriage license today. So in honor of a wedding, I'm offering my club to you for a night, no charge of course. Let's call it a going away gift."

  My jaw clenches at the information he just laid on the table in front of me. I'm not sure which part I'm most pissed about, but a few are competing with each other at this point.

  Mac is getting married soon? Custody battle?

  "How did ya find out this shit?" I snarl.

  "Son, word travels quickly when you have a pocket full of green. I needed to find a way to make things right between us, as businessmen, of course, and that called for some information I could use."

  "I don't need ya charity, Tony. I have my own fucking money."

  My teeth clamp tight together, and my jaw is rigid. My fists are balling at my sides, my nails biting into the skin. This guy is pissing me the fuck off.

  Tony makes a tsk-tsk noise.

  "Yes, Trent. You have money as well as I do, but you also have pride. And a man with pride would take what you like to call my charity. So you will take it as well. You will let me know what date you would like my club for Mr. Davis' bachelor party, and you will let Jessica show you a good time tonight in a private penthouse suite, all costs covered, of course."

  I've had enough. This is fucking crazy. I'll play his little game so long as it gets him off my back, but I'm not touching that girl. I hope she enjoys me sleeping as far away from her as possible because she's not my fucking girl.

  "Fine. Let's get this shit over with, so I never have to see your face again, Tony. Send in the fucking chick and let us get the fuck outta here."

  I SPEED DOWN the highway, headed to Tony's hotel of choice while Jessica sits in the passenger seat of my truck, nervous as fuck. She makes sure to keep her body far away from me, practically pressing against the door. Tony tried to make us take his limo, but I crushed that shit real quick. The more I thought about his going away gift, as he calls it, the more I wondered what he has up his sleeve. Something is funny with the way his attitude has shifted.