Phobic (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #2)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Good thing you have the promise of Friday night then, isn’t it?” I chuckled as he kissed my cheek.

  He held my hand as we walked back to the house.

  “Nice walk?” Bee asked, making it clear with his tone he thought we were doing anything but walking.

  “It was lovely, thank you,” I said in the sweetest voice I had. The one that was my best imitation of Angel’s butter-wouldn’t-melt tone. “Xavier showed me down to the swing set.” I shrugged out of the coat and Xavier grabbed it off me. He wore a dopey smile as he folded it up and put it on the table, but at least he didn’t say anything about our new relationship status.

  Cora came into the room, took one look at me, and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, what have you been doing? Look at the state of your hair.”

  I touched my hair, wondering what it looked like. I tried to smooth it down as best as I could without a mirror. Bee’s suggestive tone made more sense if my hair was crazed. “Oh, I couldn’t resist having a swing, and I fell off.”

  Xavier bit his lip to hide his smile. My own grin widened a little in response.

  “I’m going to be heading off now, Mr and Mrs Clayton.”

  Bee laughed.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Xavier is a Clayton. It was his father’s last name, God rest his soul,” Cora said. “I took Bee’s name when we were married.”

  “Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m not sure what I should call you then?”

  “Bee and Cora is just fine,” Bee said.

  “Thank you for your hospitality. Bee. Cora.” I nodded to each one in turn. “Dinner was lovely.”

  “I’ll see you out,” Xavier said.

  “Allow me,” Bee said. “Unless there’s something more you need to say to Phoebe?”

  I gave a tiny shake of my head because I really didn’t want to have to spend time right then talking about my virginity, or lack thereof, or my newfound relationship with Xavier.

  Thankfully, he picked up on it. “Of course not. Thanks for coming tonight, Phoebe.”

  “Thank you for having me, Xav.”

  Bee led me to the door and grabbed my jacket from the wardrobe nearby. I wasn’t looking forward to heading out into the frigid night air with only my leather jacket rather than the thicker, longer one I’d worn on my walk, but at least it was convenient for my ride.

  I reached out to grab my jacket from Bee, but he pulled it away at the last second.

  “You know, Cora was telling the truth about Xavier and his little crush on you. Ever since you turned up here to buy the Honda, he won’t stop talking about you. It’s all Phoebe this, and Reede that.”

  “He’s a great guy and very sweet.”

  “If you want my opinion, I don’t think you should waste your time with my stepson. He’s far too inexperienced and sweet for someone of your talents.” He held my jacket in his hands, refusing to pass it to me. I wanted to snatch it from him. Just when I was about to, he held it out for me to slip into. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I turned and slid my arms into the sleeves. “You need someone older.” His hand ghosted over the outside of my jacket, trailing down to my wrists. “Someone able to show you things that will blow your mind.” As he spoke, he clasped my wrists and shoved them against the base of my spine and the last words were whispered against the shell of my ear.

  I tugged out of his hold as Beau’s words at the party about him having a sting flooded my mind. “What? I don’t—”

  A slow chuckle left him. “Oh, you think I mean . . .” There was a dark look in his eyes. “I’m not talking about me. I mean in general. Xavier’s mother has filled his head with notions of saving himself for marriage and not dating whores. Your father’s reputation was legendary before I left Australia. I’m sure he’s raised you with those same liberal morals, so I can’t imagine the apple falls too far from that tree.”

  I tugged the edges of my jacket closed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m sure you do. And I’m just trying to watch out for my poor stepson. I don’t want to see his heart trampled on.”

  “I can assure you, I don’t have any plans to trample on Xavier’s heart.”

  “Then I guess there is nothing left but to wish you goodnight, Phoebe.”

  I nodded and turned away, tossing a quick, “’Night,” over my shoulder as I went, wondering whether I was just imagining the way he’d been.

  I WOKE THE following morning to a pile of Facebook notifications and texts from home. The first message I opened was from Angel. Who’s the cutie, is it serious, and why didn’t you tell me he was on the radar?

  I rubbed my eyes as I wondered what the heck she was talking about.

  The next text was from Mum. Is there something you need to tell us?

  On Facebook, my notifications had gone crazier than normal. When I opened the first one, I saw why.

  Xavier’s photo.

  He’d tagged me in it, which wouldn’t have been too bad on its own, but he’d done something so much worse only an hour or so later when he’d changed his status to being in a relationship. That post didn’t have my name, but the two things combined seemed to have been enough damning evidence for most people.

  I dropped my head back against the pillow when I saw some of the people who had liked or commented on the photo. Bee. Mum. Angel. Cash. And Beau. Fuck me.

  In the cold light of day, I took a moment to think through my choice again. Only, I came to the same conclusion as I had when Xavier had kissed me. It would be easy being with him. Easy and safe.

  With that thought in my head, I sent him a text. Looking forward to tomorrow night, text me the information when you’ve finalised your plans.

  Once I’d sent that, I mentally prepared myself for the phone calls with Mum and also with Angel. I was certain that although they’d be surprised at how quickly I’d found him, they would accept Xavier.

  By the time I finished my phone calls, it was almost eleven. As I’d expected, Mum had questioned what was happening with Beau but had been largely accepting of my relationship with Xavier when I told her the background. Angel had been a little harder to talk around. According to her, cute and friendly technician didn’t beat sexy cowboy driver under any circumstances. It was only when I reminded her that the sexy cowboy driver was off limits by virtue of his baby-to-be and fiancée that she backed down and wished me luck.

  When I’d finished, I headed straight to the on-site gym and hit the treadmill for a while before moving on to a weights circuit. After I’d almost exhausted myself there, I dragged my ready-to-collapse body back up to my apartment, set on having a hot shower.

  In front of my door was a single red rose.

  Bending to pick it up, I checked for notes or information about who it might be from, or anything that would indicate its purpose on my doorstep. There was nothing. It was just a random gift.

  I glanced around again, thinking perhaps one of the neighbours had left it for me. After all, it was a gated community. No one could just wander in off the streets without someone letting them in. It was almost a month late as a welcome gift, but perhaps they’d only just discovered someone new had moved in.

  I carried the rose into my apartment before placing it on the table as the mystery of its origin spun through my head. Knowing there would be no immediate answer, I headed for the bathroom to have a shower. I had no plans for the rest of the day after that.

  When I came back out, I examined the rose again. I touched it to my nose to inhale the scent as I wondered whether it could be a gift from Xavier. That made the most amount of sense. Thinking he must have been the one to leave it, I found a tall glass to double as a vase and put the flower in some water before opening my laptop to do some more study on the various stock car tracks I’d be facing during the year.

  I was halfway through making dinner when my phone rang.

  Xavier.

  “I was wondering when you’d call,
” I said by way of greeting as I moved throughout the kitchen.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would want me to call yet. I know we planned on dinner tomorrow and you said to let you know the plans, but I wasn’t sure if that meant to call. Or text. Or email. I gotta admit, I’m a little lost with all of this.”

  His admission drew a laugh from me as I stirred the soup on the stovetop. “I’m as lost as you are.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Are you saying you think I’m easy?” Even though he couldn’t see me, I lifted the spoon from the pot and waved it like I would if he’d been standing right in front of me.

  “No. Oh, no. Definitely not. I’m sorry.” He stumbled over his words and apology.

  “Relax, Xavier. I’m just teasing. You should probably get used to that if we’re going to be in a relationship. Which we are. At least, according to Facebook.”

  “You don’t mind that I put that on there, do you? I didn’t—”

  Another laugh left me. If nothing else, he was good for keeping my spirits up. “It would have been nice to have had the time to tell my parents and let them know first, give them some warning, you know? But no, I don’t mind. It’s the truth after all, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It is. Even if part of me still doesn’t believe it,” he said.

  “Why don’t you believe it?”

  “That day you came here to look at the bike, I thought an angel had turned up on my doorstep.”

  I laughed. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “I don’t, Phoebe. I just can’t believe that you’re actually mine.”

  “All yours,” I said, even though the words twisted around the remnants of the way I felt about Beau. One day, I was sure I’d be able to say the words and not feel the stab of guilt that I was somehow betraying Beau by trying to be happy.

  “So, I was thinking for our date tomorrow, we might see a movie and then head over to Pomodoro's. It’s my favourite Italian place.”

  “Sounds great. Did you want to pick me up? Or we could take my bike?” An image of Beau on the back of my bike sprung to mind, but I shoved it aside.

  “While I’m sure you’re a great rider, I think it’ll be more romantic—and warmer—in my car.”

  Thinking of Beau’s arms wrapped around me as I floated through the hills in Sacramento, I could easily have argued the bike could be romantic. But I didn’t want to re-create those memories with Xavier. They were in the past. “If you insist.”

  We set a time and I arranged for him to buzz me when he arrived.

  “There was something else I thought I should tell you,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I turned off the stove and lifted the soup away from the heat.

  “Beau came to work today. Uh, to see me.”

  I froze at his words, and the troubled tone behind them. A second later, the heat of the pot bit through my skin and the handle slipped from my fingers. It crashed to the ground, and I jumped away from the hot liquid. “W-what did he want?”

  “To ask about you. He seemed troubled by the Facebook thing.”

  “What did he say?” I demanded, ignoring the hot mess spreading on my tiles.

  “He—” Xavier sighed. “He tried to warn me away from you. Tried to tell me that you would only toy with my heart and wouldn’t be true.”

  “Why does he hate me so much?” The question wasn’t meant for Xavier, but it escaped nonetheless. I didn’t understand though. Why couldn’t Beau just leave me in peace? Why did he have to try to turn the one real friend I had on the team against me?

  “Perhaps he’s realized what he let go when he played with your heart. I know I’d be devastated if I screwed things up with you. I’d do anything I could to keep you.”

  Xavier’s words were earnest, and should have been enough to take away the sting of finding out what Beau had said to him. They didn’t though. They felt like platitudes, washing over me without having any real impact. “I don’t know why he can’t just leave me be. Why he can’t let me move on.”

  Xavier’s breath came down the line in an angry hiss. “If I didn’t know what he’d done to you, Phoebe, then maybe I might’ve believed his lies, but I don’t. I think you’re really special, Phoebe.”

  His statement healed me a little, but not enough to wipe away all of the angst that his mention of Beau had stirred up in my stomach.

  “And I’m really looking forward to our date,” he added.

  “Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “See you then.”

  After I hung up the phone, I cleaned the mess of soup on the floor and then headed to bed. My appetite had evaporated with Xavier’s words. Knowing it was a bad idea, but unable to resist, I put on the playlist of songs that always reminded me of Beau and cried myself to sleep.

  How could I have let myself fall for such a wanker?

  A SOUND rang out into the night, cutting through the silence. It was dark, and far too early to be awake. Forcing open my protesting eyes, I checked the time. Two o’clock. Fuck. My thoughts went to my family. Had something else happened? I crawled across the bed with all the speed I could muster and grabbed my phone.

  “Hello?” My voice sounded stressed even in my own ears.

  “Darlin’, I miss you.”

  I set my jaw as I listened to the familiar country drawl. “You’ve got the wrong number, Beau.”

  “Nah don’t,” he slurred.

  It took me a moment to figure out what he’d meant. No, I don’t. There was only one explanation I could think of why he was calling so late, and with the slur. “Are you drunk?”

  “I had a bottle of Fireball. I miss my fireball. Wait, no, no, I mean, you’re my fireball. My Dawson. I miss ya.”

  I clutched my chest as an ache ran through me, twisting my heart. His use of the fake name I’d given him the first night we’d met raised a slew of memories of that time—of memories I’d thought at the time were happy. With them dancing in my head, and the tears still in my eyes from crying myself to sleep on my cheeks, I couldn’t find any response to his words that wouldn’t see me breaking down.

  “We were good together, weren’t we, darlin’?” His accent was so broad and it reminded me of the way he’d laid it on thick on the night we’d met.

  My sorrow manifested into a sob that tore from me before I could bite it back. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why do we do anythin’? ’Cause I want to. I wanna talk t’ya. Wanna kiss ya too, but I can’t.”

  “No. You can’t. Because you’re engaged with a baby on the way.”

  “What’re you doin’ with Xavier?”

  I rolled onto my back, defeated but unable to hang up on him. “Beau, I’m not getting into this now.”

  “Are ya screwin’ him?”

  “No!” The word was out before I could stop it.

  “Does he get to kiss ya?”

  I screwed my eyes shut. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “We’re friends, right, darlin’? Ya can tell friends what ya get up to. Have ya kissed him? Has he kissed you? Properly kissed I mean. Like ya kissed me. I can still remember the taste of you on my lips.”

  “Stop it!” I sobbed. His words were both pissing me off and turning me on and I couldn’t stand it. “Just stop it.”

  “I can’t stop it, Dawson. I can’t get you out of my head. I need ya. So bad. It’s drivin’ me crazy.”

  “I’m not—I can’t—I won’t do this.” I should’ve hung up. It would have been so easy to end the call. Some sick part of me wanted to hear him confessing his need for me though. I wouldn’t let myself be the other woman, and I wouldn’t do it to Xavier, but that didn’t mean it didn’t stroke my ego to think that Beau still held a torch for me, however dim.

  “I dream ’bout ya.”

  “What do you dream?” My breath was choppy and my voice almost silent. I shouldn’t have asked, but I needed to know.

  “I dream ’bo
ut other men kissin’ ya. Other men holdin’ ya. And ya let them, darlin’, ya let ’em all do what they want to ya. And it breaks mah heart.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like I’ve been exclusive with anyone, right?” I tried to throw his words from our Skype back in his face, but all they did was scrape at my heart as they left.

  “Nope. No one owns you, darlin’.”

  A single tear trailed down my face as I tried to bury the emotions he’d forced back to the surface. “Someone does now. At least, we’re trying it out.”

  “Xavier?”

  My voice almost betrayed me when I said, “Yeah.”

  “And there’s no one else?” His voice travelled the path from longing to irritated during the course of his question.

  “No. Why would there be?”

  “Course. Why would there be?” He repeated my question back to me. “It ain’t like you’re easy.” He started to sing the same song that Cash and Jase had taunted me with.

  “Fuck off, Beau, and don’t call me again.” Despite my words, I couldn’t move to hang up the phone.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t.” He ended the call the instant the words were out.

  The phone slipped from between my fingers as every breath grated against my throat and I tried to stop the sobs that Beau’s mock-loving words and cruelty had inspired. They proved I was right when I’d had the thought that passion and desire, that what I’d thought was love, was nothing more than a way to get hurt.

  The walls I’d allowed to come tumbling down were rebuilt and reinforced in an instant.

  I would allow Xavier to stand at the very edge of my heart, but nothing more.

  There’s no way I would let myself be broken again.

  I wouldn’t let love destroy me.

  XAVIER ARRIVED FIFTEEN minutes early, dressed up in a pressed white shirt and with a bouquet of wildflowers. I buzzed him up to my apartment because I was still only half-ready. I had my clothes and make-up on, but I still had the curlers in my hair.

  When he knocked on the door to announce his arrival, I rushed out to answer it. After the early morning wake-up call, and wallowing all day, I was ready to have some fun. To spend time with someone I could call friend, even if he wanted more from me than I was willing to give.