My heart sinks. I squeeze my temples with one hand and try to ignore the dread coming at me in droves. “I actually am out of town.” I wince. “Let me see what I can do, and I’ll get back to you later today.”
“That’s fine. And I understand this is our mistake, but if there’s any way we can get you in with Sandy, it will make the transition so much smoother. If you can make it happen, we would really appreciate it, Hadley.”
“I understand. Thanks for the call. I’ll get back with you before the end of the day.”
“Take care. Talk soon.”
“Goodbye.”
My phone drops unceremoniously onto the blankets. The thud is soft, muted by the extra comforter Machlan added before we climbed into bed for actual sleep.
A sharp pain shoots across my forehead. I whine, a fake cry drifting across the room.
The rational part of my head reminds me I was leaving anyway. The illogical half tells me I can’t. It’s too soon. I haven’t had enough time with Machlan.
Crawling across the bed, I dive into his spot. I burrow as deep into his sheets as I can.
“What am I going to do now?” I ask aloud.
The room gives no answers.
The sweet way he looked at me last night, the loving way he caressed me as he didn’t fuck me but made love to me more than a couple of times, gives me hope he will ask me to stay.
Surely, he wouldn’t make himself that vulnerable if he wasn’t in a different place. That has to mean something.
“Ask me to stay,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering closed. “Ask me to stay and I will.”
My phone rings again, and I pick it up. Holding my breath that the universe heard my request and is coming through, I look at the screen.
Damn it.
“Hey,” I say in the line.
“Hi, Hadley,” Samuel says. “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
Looking around Machlan’s bedroom and hearing Samuel’s voice triggers something deep inside me. Regardless of what happens with Mach, whether he finally realizes he can commit or not, doesn’t matter. My heart is not in it with Samuel. And even though I’ve prayed it would be, it won’t.
“I’m glad you called,” I say.
“Really? That’s promising.”
My heart sinks. “Listen, Samuel. You’re a nice guy. You’re everything a girl should want.”
“There’s a but, isn’t there?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
He sighs, a heaviness in it that isn’t missed by me. “I really hope you find what you want. Even if it isn’t me.”
“I hope that for you too.”
“Promise me something, though.”
“What’s that?”
He takes a deep breath. “Don’t settle, Hadley. Don’t let anyone walk all over you or twist yourself up to make people happy. Your spirit is what I love most about you, and I’d hate for anyone to dampen it.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s no reason to make this longer than it has to be,” he admits. “You have a few things at my house. I’ll gather them when I get back, and you can come get them, or I’ll drop them off.”
“Okay.”
“And Hadley?”
“Yeah?”
“If you change your mind, I’ll be here.”
I open my mouth to tell him not to be, to meet some girl at his audit conferences and fall madly, deeply in love. To find someone who makes him feel what I feel when I’m around Machlan. To find someone he simply can’t live without. That he would fight for.
But before I can do that, the line is dead.
* * *
Machlan
A flashy sports utility vehicle flies up the road. The tires hit the dirt lot before the driver locks the brakes. The vehicle slides a few feet before it comes to a complete stop.
Spencer is over an hour late. He seems to either be unaware of this or completely without a fuck as his loafers hit the gravel.
He adjusts his tie as he strolls my way. I don’t get up from the bench I’ve been sitting on for the past thirty minutes. Fuck him.
“Well, good morning,” he says. “Glad to see you’re on time.”
“I was. An hour ago.”
“Really?” He looks at his watch. “I had a quick meeting this morning that apparently ran over. I apologize.”
He doesn’t. There’s not a hint of respect in his tone to lend any credence to that at all.
It’s not only that I left Hadley asleep in my bed and could’ve been there with her for the better part of the morning that has me annoyed, but also that the key wasn’t here like it was supposed to be.
“Wouldn’t have been so bad if I could’ve gotten in,” I say, alluding to the key.
“You mean a guy like you couldn’t figure out how to break in?” His laugh is loud and grating. It’s enough to bring me to my feet.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a little humor to lighten the mood, you know?” He pats me on the back. “Let’s go inside. I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about.”
As he unlocks the door and makes a meal out of turning on the lights and inspecting the thermostat, I take inventory of the space.
Billiards tables will go along the back wall—two or three, probably. A kid Lance knows, Ollie, is going to make me some furniture out of old pallets for the area to the right. We’ll have game systems and a couple of computers. It’ll work great.
Spencer tosses a file down on the sole table in the room. “What do you think of the place?”
“It’s gonna work out great. The whole plan is in place. I’m just waiting on the signed contracts to pull the trigger.”
“Interesting choice of words,” he mumbles. “I’m just going to be frank, okay?”
“Yeah. Go.”
He walks around the table, effectively putting it between us. “On the advice of my attorney, we had an addendum drawn up.”
“Wait. What? What for?”
Everything was covered in the original contract. I had Blaire look at it, and it was fine. She didn’t love some of the terms, but she doesn’t love much of anything on the first try.
“What’s going on, Spencer?”
“You said a few things the other day that, upon second thought, made me a little nervous about loaning you the money.”
“Like what?” My hands flex at my sides as I try to stay calm.
“For one, because I’m carrying your loan, I’ll need to be insured on the property. That means I have something to lose.”
“I get it. Cut to the chase.”
He opens the folder and shoves a stapled stack of papers in my direction. “You can obviously have your attorney, if you have one, look at these.”
“My sister is an attorney at Litchfield and Sparks in Chicago,” I say, not giving a fuck what that means, but knowing it’s a big deal to people who care. “I’m sure she’d love to see these before I sign them.”
“Oh. Well, okay,” he says, straightening his already straight tie. “She can tell you what they say then.”
I cross my arms over my chest and ignore the fire smoldering in my stomach. “I’d really like to hear it from you.”
“Fine.” He picks up the document. “This part says you have to be closed to all underaged people by eight o’clock on school nights and ten on the weekends.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“With all due respect to your business plan, I’d rather not have a bunch of kids here at night tearing the place up.”
I hold my hands in front of me. “That’s the exact reason I’m doing this. So they don’t go tearing shit up.”
He takes off his glasses and holds them near his mouth. The way he looks at me, down his nose as though I’m some kind of fucking idiot, makes me see red.
“Kids aren’t inherently bad, you know,” I say.
“Machlan. You own a bar. You know people, in general, are inherently bad.�
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“Don’t tell me what I fucking know. That’s not true. And if you want to know the real ridiculousness of those hours you’ve written in there, it’s this: most juvenile crimes happen in the hours right after school lets out. Not at night.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
I think he’s a cocksucker too, but I’m not going to say it.
Pacing a circle, I try to settle myself. I take in all the potential this place has and remind myself of the end result. That if I can deal with this asshole and get this building, I can do something real and valuable with my life. That I can be more than bar owner. That I can give back to a community I’ve fucked with relentlessly in my life.
“Tell me this,” I say. “What did you do after school when you were growing up?”
“I either went to golf practice or went home.”
“And who was there?”
“My mother. Why do you care?”
“Because when I was growing up, both of my parents worked. I came home to an empty house. And when my parents, who were good fucking people, mind you, died when I was a teenager, my grandmother had to chase me around. My best friend, Cross, had basically no one. His dad didn’t give a fuck.”
He looks at me as though I’m telling him the weather forecast.
I blow out an exasperated breath. “When you have nothing to do, no one waiting on you, you get in trouble. From the hours of eight to three on school days, even if you hate school on the surface, you appreciate the routine of it all. People who care where you are. People who shove a lunch in front of your face. Somewhere warm and dry and, for a lot of kids, that’s more than they get at home. Once that bell rings, they have nothing. Do you know what that feels like?”
“No.”
“That’s my point.”
“Their parents should do better.” He chuckles. “I love your passion for this project, but it’s … Quite frankly, it’s a waste of time.”
I try to stay calm, but my nerves bounce, ready to explode.
“If Hadley hadn’t been in there that day, I probably would’ve pulled the deal completely,” he says.
Hearing her name on his tongue doesn’t help, nor does the way he grins after he says it. As though lewd thoughts are spilling through his pussified brain.
“Let’s leave Had out of this,” I say.
“Had, huh?” He quirks a brow.
“Leave her out of it.”
“Let me give you a piece of advice.” He tosses a pen on the papers. “I don’t know how well you know her, but she’s a little rough around the edges. A sweet girl. Great tits. But she’s basically the same kind of customer you want in here, and those people don’t make you any money unless you own a strip club.”
I’m so shocked that I’m certain I misheard him. I expect my brain to filter it all out and make it make sense at any moment. Instead, he laughs, licking his lips, and makes it absolutely clear.
“All right. You sign this addendum and we—”
“We ain’t signing shit.” I stalk across the room. My breathing is eerily calm; my eyes narrowed on the dick in the suit.
I need to stay calm. I know that. I need to let this arrogant bastard get his rocks off however he does it and not fuck up my plans. But the longer his words echo in my brain, the lesser my grip on logic becomes.
“Don’t get testy.” He laughs. “And don’t let a girl like Hadley get to you like this, Machlan. Women always ruin a good man.”
“You think she ruins me?” I shake my head, the words getting jumbled in my mind. It’s almost a plea because something in his eyes, something right under the surface, tells me he’s going to press. And if he presses like I think he’s going to, it won’t end well. “You don’t know jack shit.”
“I know enough to know I was going to turn your offer down, but the fact that she knew you made me more comfortable. But seeing you now, all hyped up over her, makes me rethink your abilities.”
“This isn’t me hyped. I’ll assure you of that,” I say. “And what I do when people like you talk about her has nothing to do with the contract.”
He twirls his glasses in the air. “I disagree. If you get wound up so easily by me, how do you think you’ll survive a room full of teenagers?”
“Because they aren’t assholes.”
He drops his glasses; his thin lips pressed together. The wheels are turning in his peon brain. I’ve seen it a hundred times. I’m usually really good at ignoring it when a pussified motherfucker thinks they’ve found your weakness and chooses to push. Today might be different.
“Tell you what,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t really want to lose this sale. As you said, I’ll make more money off you than I would if I sold it outright. So, have your attorney look over the addendum, and if it’s manageable, it’s a deal. I’ll even knock off five thousand if you tell me how tight Hadley is.” He snickers, picking up his pen. “She probably has a sweet little cunt, doesn’t she?”
“You motherfucker,” I growl, my pulse hitting me so hard I can barely hear his cackle. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bastard.”
He grabs his phone and presses a few keys as I stalk around the corner of the table. I could hit him with one hand and end his fucking day, but I want to enjoy this one. I want him to feel every word he just spit at me. I want him to taste the blood on his lips. To remember it the next time he tries to open his mouth.
The table legs scratch across the floor as he shoves it around, trying to keep it between us.
“Look at you running like you were just running your mouth,” I say, my voice eerily calm.
I step right. So does he. I step forward. He steps back.
I laugh. “You do know how bad this is gonna hurt, right?”
“Let’s calm down,” he says, his voice trembling.
“Nah, you wanted this. Cause and effect, bitch.”
It’s only going to take one shot to knock him out, and that won’t feel nearly as good as seeing the fear in his eyes does.
Spencer looks over my shoulder, then back at me. “I hope Hadley is smart enough to stay away from you. It makes me sad for her that she’s gotten caught up with trash like you.”
Adrenaline rockets through me as I charge around the table. Spencer runs toward the back of the room.
The door swings open behind me. I glance over my shoulder before pursuing Spencer.
“What’s going on here?” Kip asks, taking off his sheriff’s hat. “We had a 911 call.”
I stop in my tracks; my teeth still pressed together so hard it hurts.
“Machlan?” he asks. My cousin raises his brows. “What’s going on?”
“Not a damn thing,” I say. “Just teaching this pudfuck some manners.”
Kip motions for me to come toward him. “Come here.”
“Give me five minutes. Nah, two,” I beg. “Just walk out of here for two minutes.”
Kip doesn’t blink. “You don’t want an assault charge. You’ll lose your license for the bar. Now come here before you lose everything you have.”
Looking over my shoulder at Spencer, I point a finger his way. “You have one coming.”
“That’s a threat,” Spencer says. “Did you hear that, Sheriff?”
Clenching my hands at my sides, my nostrils flaring as I try to rein in my fury, I head toward Kip.
“Did you hear that?” Spencer shouts again. “That’s clearly a threat.”
“I didn’t hear anything. Go get in your truck,” he says under his breath. “And go home. Got it?”
“Our contract is void,” Spencer shouts from the other side of the room.
I whirl around. “You think?”
The door slams behind me.
Thirty
Hadley
The clock on the stove moves past another hour.
My hair is almost dry from the bath I took around eleven in hopes he’d return and join me. The dishes from the leftovers I heated up around noon have been washed, dried, and put away. T
he bed has been made, a reality episode consumed, and now I sit at the kitchen table unsure what to do. Phone in hand, I unlock it.
His name is at the top of my text messenger. Running late is the only thing I’ve heard from him, and that was around the time I climbed out of the bath.
I wish I hadn’t eaten. The steak and potatoes are too heavy on my stomach, and every time I move, my stomach churns. I jump at every sound I hear, thinking it’s him.
As comfortable as I was earlier, I’m not now. Whether it’s the stark difference in the note and text or that he hasn’t come back, I don’t know. There’s an uneasy knot in my stomach I can’t shake.
“He probably just got busy,” I tell myself. Brushing a bit of salt off the table, I get to my feet and head to the hallway.
My steps echo through the house. A loneliness burrows in my gut, and I try to kick it out and find the happiness I had when I woke up, but it’s hard. I really thought today would be different and he wouldn’t leave like he used to do. And as much as I tell myself he might not have, that there’s a perfectly logical explanation for this, I worry.
I gather my things. I try not to look around, to overthink anything, to see the spot on the couch where he spread me last night and buried his face between my legs.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I slip on my shoes. Leaning against the wall, I pull out my phone again.
Me:I’m just going to go back to the apartment. I hope everything is okay.
I watch as the chat bubbles start. Then stop. Then start again. Then stop. Finally, as I start to type again, they come back on and remain.
Machlan: Probably a good idea. I’m sorry.
Me:No worries. I’ll see you tonight. Em is coming around six.
I wait, sure this will get a reaction. There’s not even a start of a chat bubble this time.
My mouth dry, my stomach twisting, I exit the house and climb into my car. My phone pairs to the Bluetooth when the engine turns over, and a loud ring blares through the car as soon as I put it in drive.
“Hey,” I say.
Crave: The Gibson Boys, Book #3 Page 24