“It’s hard to think when they’re walking around assuming I’m okay. When they yell insults at him and my first reaction is to defend when I should at least not feel broken by it. Ya know?”
Indie and Percy have a sort of creed they live by. According to them, if a man tramples your heart he’s a waste of oxygen who deserves to die painfully.
“Come live with me. Come live in Callie’s old room and the two of us can sit on the sofa eating pizza and cookie dough and watch rom coms till we’re crying buckets,” she says with a smile. “The two assholes are great, but they don’t understand tragedy and death and for them, mourning is not a process, it’s a race to get to a harder side of themselves.”
“I think I can so do that. Thanks, Dotty.”
“Don’t mention it. You’re telling them, though.”
“Aw come on, Dot, I’m going through a tragedy here.” I groan, eying the rabid pair across the way who are currently trying to rag the hell out of two old people who seriously have no inhibitions or hang-ups when it comes to people knowing their old asses are boning.
Gross.
“You want to know tragedy? It’s what will be left of me after I tell Capone and Corleone over there I’m hijacking the only person who cleans after their slobbish butts. This is all you, Luci. Make me proud.”
Suddenly that dash from Freddie’s elevator with my ass flapping in the breeze doesn’t seem all that bad, I think as I look over at Indie and Percy.
“Can we talk?”
I look up to see my arch nemesis glaring down at me, his hands in his pockets, his stance all “I’m not budging so you may as well give in.”
There’s a saying we all use on the regular, one I once heard a mother of six little darlings use on the subway while her crew tried to level the place.
Karma, you bitch, we’ll meet some day and I’m coming armed.
Chapter Three
When Lightning Strikes and You’re Too Dumb to Drop the Fucking Umbrella.
Freddie
There have been many times in my life when just breathing has been all I can manage, that and maybe the control not to show everyone around me who and what I really am.
Growing up with a family like mine where my parents chose to have a child to carry on the family line but really had no use for them till the time came…well I’m not exactly the most rounded or healthy individual in the world. Not emotionally, anyway.
I’ve lived with only three absolute laws in my life, taught to me the hard way when I was still a kid too naïve and dumb to understand that parents and people aren’t who you think they are or should be.
Never let them see you cry.
Never love enough to have to cry.
Quitting is not an option.
That’s all. The crying part was easy and one I learned when I was sent away to boarding school at the age of five. See up till that point in my life, I had a nanny who adored me and swore to me that parents all loved their kids. How could they not?
Turns out she lied, and well, when I told Mom I didn’t want to leave because I loved her and Dad…
I learned then that love is not something you just expect, it’s something that people can choose to give. Or not give, as the case was then. Long and short, I ended up going to that school, licking my wounds but later happy that I got to escape the assholes who brought me into this world.
The crying got easy because I never loved after that. I set myself apart and learned to be what I had to be in any situation. Some little snot decided I was the smallest kid and an easy target, so I put in a request for martial arts tutoring and kicked the shit out of him the next time he tried to mess with me.
I got sick of being alone all the time, so I learned to play every sport known to man and became a jock, the instant popular guy everyone wanted to be and no one wanted to hate.
I was always surrounded by people. I made myself into what I needed to be.
Some girl I talked to on the rare occasions the all-girls school came over once brushed me off when I was sincere, so I learned to flirt and reel them in and never give of myself.
It took a load of grit and determination to master it all, and so much work I sometimes look back at it all and wonder where I got the strength from.
The status quo only broke when I graduated and started college. I met this hotshot little punk named Woody and things just snowballed from there. He took one look at me and decided I was going to be his friend, and nothing I said or did changed his mind.
He’d harass me to death on a daily basis and show up at my off-campus apartment till I just gave in and let him hang around. We’ve been friends ever since.
Jack came with Woody.
They were there through thick and thin, through building the firm and my parents’ unwanted attention when I turned twenty-one and finally inherited a trust they needed since they’d almost blown through all their money.
That’s the only time in my life that I can ever say that I broke my number two rule because I love those two fucks like family.
They are my family.
Now this.
This is my first regret and something I’ve been struggling with for months. See, I hurt someone I consider a friend. Naïve as that may sound, I never once imagined that Luci and I would part ways badly.
I flirt, hook them, reel them in, and I have some fun with them. When we’re done they’re so smitten with my carefree teasing and easygoing ways that more often than not we end up friends.
Never once have I failed to seduce a woman and make her want to be my friend when we’re done with sex. Until Luci.
She took me completely by storm with her laughing green eyes, shy smile, and quick blushes. I wanted her the moment she stepped into the kitchen at Destiny’s party and stood gaping at me like a fish out of water. I wanted her more when she sidled up to me and started flirting with me before I could play my game.
She confessed to me that she was a virgin and had been waiting for someone she cared about to trust with her body. I think I fooled myself into hearing what I wanted to hear, namely that she wanted a nice deflowering and friendship because I didn’t want to admit that she wanted more.
I knew she wanted more, but I wanted what she was offering. I wanted it so much that admitting to myself that I was going to take from her and risk hurting her was not an option.
For the rest of my miserable life I will never forget the night I made love to Luci Braxton. I won’t forget her expressions or moans of pleasure when her breasts were felt by my hands or the touch of my mouth.
I won’t forget the way she writhed and clutched at my head when I tasted her sweet, clean, untouched sex. I know for a fact that I will take to my grave the way it felt when I pushed my cock into her for the first time, knowing that I had just received a gift that no one would ever have, that no one would ever take away from me.
The hell of it is that even after screwing us both to exhaustion, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted every moment I could get from her because I knew that eventually, no matter how I felt, I’d walk away and move on, thereby sparing us both an entanglement my rules would not allow.
I pushed her away and moved on. I did the right thing, in the wrong way, and enjoyed the ensuing months of her stalking and outrageous behavior because I’m an insecure prick who basked in someone finally wanting me so much that they worked to get my attention.
I let it go to the point that she ended up in my bed when I brought another woman home.
The look on her face when she saw us, when she realized what was happening will be acid etched into my brain forever. Because it was in that moment that I realized that Luci Braxton, the optimistic, never-quit little romantic, truly loved me.
“Go away.”
I look down just as Luci finally answers me and feel another piece of myself start to crack. In her brilliant green eyes I see finality and a darkness that’s never been there before.
I see her not caring, not wanting me. Giving up on me
because maybe she’s finally seen all of me and realized I’m not worth her time.
“Luce, just a minute. Please,” I beg softly as Dot gives me a look and then rises, squeezing Luci’s hand gently.
“Don’t go.”
“You need to do this. I’ll be right over there with Woody if you need me.”
When she’s gone and I’m assured the others are engrossed in their insulting banter, I sit down beside her and try not to notice the way she shifts away, as if just touching me is abhorrent to her.
The action cuts me deeply but I relish the pain.
“Spit it out and then leave me alone, Cage,” she mutters, still not looking at me as her trembling hands pick at what’s left of her food.
My eyes close against the shame I feel, the knowledge that I’ve taken a woman so filled with joy and upbeat optimism and made her into this barely caring husk.
“Luci. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You did nothing wrong.”
“I did. I—”
“You didn’t. You were honest right from the start about what you wanted and didn’t want. I pushed and pushed for more till you had no choice but to pull away. I should never have let myself believe in those stupid fucking fairy tales I had in that stupid book. What the hell did I think would happen?” She laughs mirthlessly, making me cringe.
“Luci—”
“I was an idiot and I deserved what I got because I should have known that being me wouldn’t get me anywhere. My friends were right all along. You go soft, you want something so bad you’re willing to drop the façade, and then you’re setting yourself up for a ton of heartbreak and regret. You know what I regret, Cage? I regret looking up the night I walked into the kitchen. I looked at you and instead of seeing the flirt and the womanizer, I saw a guy with sad eyes and a need for love. I saw what I wanted to see instead of what was there, and that’s on me.”
Luce, don’t give up on me, baby, I beg silently, my cold heart shattering.
“I spoke to Jack and Woody already and let them know that you were always clear with me. Jesus! You’d think that after having security toss me out of the building on my ass that I would have taken the hint.” She laughs again.
“What are you talking about?”
“I want you to know two things. First, the night of the wedding I kissed Alan because I thought I could maybe move on and stop hurting. Second, you don’t have to worry about me coming around or anything, and you don’t have to feel guilty.”
“I don’t—”
“And that’s good, because you know what? It’s made me think about myself and what I want. Thanks, Cage, I finally understand what I need to do.”
I’m not sure what she means because she rises almost immediately after that statement and walks away, leaving the waiting room. I do know that the feeling of dread that consumes me is completely real.
I’ve lost Luci, my sandy-blond, green-eyed sprite.
I went and fucking broke rule two without even knowing it, and screwed it all up before it even began.
Chapter Four
A Jack by Any Other Name…
Luci
We’re all crammed into chairs, contorted like pretzels or stretched to the point of falling to the floor seven hours later when a harried Jack comes running into the room and just starts yelling at the top of his lungs like a madman.
“Oh my God. He’s, he’s a she. It’s a girl!”
My heart squeezes and I feel myself start tearing up as we all stand as one and try to converge on the poor man. His black hair is standing up all over the place and he looks like he’s been through a war with those clothes and the dark circles beneath his eyes, but I have never in my life seen anyone, man or woman, this radiantly beautiful with happiness.
Jack is, at this moment, one of the hottest men alive as far as I’m concerned. He continues to babble proudly and tell anyone who’ll listen what a fucking perfect angel his kid is, how she’s the best thing that’s happened to the world.
Woody starts laughing and slapping him in a man hug when Jack won’t quit crowing, and I look up in time to see Freddie grinning broadly and pulling Jack into a hug that’s all tears and emotion.
That makes me sad and happy and freaking painfully aware of what I can’t have. The ache in me is so deep in that second, I honestly don’t know how it’s possible that my heart keeps beating.
He’ll never run into a waiting room and crow over our little girl or brag about me the way Jack’s bragging about his little warrior, Callie, for doing this amazing, miraculous thing.
The sad truth is that he’s too fucked up to love and allow himself this joy. The more fucked-up thing is that I know that I will never have it because I swore to myself years ago I would never settle. If it won’t be him sharing that moment with me, it won’t be anyone.
“You should have seen it all. Callie was a Goddamn rock star. It was just…”
“Gross.”
“Disgusting.”
“Gruesome.”
“Gory?” Dot asks.
“A miracle,” I say, my throat closing and choking me as I smile at Jack and he smiles right back with so much gratitude and love that I feel humbled.
He walks over and pulls me in for a tight embrace.
“I’m so happy for you and Callie,” I whisper into his shirt, holding back a stream of tears as I try to reign myself in. “You two are so good together and you deserve all the happiness you can create together. Congratulations, Jack. May God bless you and the family you created.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. Don’t give up, Luce. Don’t give up on him and what can be,” he whispers softly as he gives me one last squeeze that I almost don’t hear it. “He needs love more than anyone I’ve ever met, and you’re so full of it that it spills out even when you’re being an asshole.”
That makes my hiccup turn into a giggle and I push him away with a huff.
“Classy, Levin. Real classy. Now where’s the little cutie pie? She got a big head like you or is she perfect like Mama?”
Everyone’s laughing as he blushes. I see Freddie glance at me from the corner of my eye.
“You shush, little gabber, or I’ll slap your pate right well and good. Everyone knows a Landry girl is perfection personified. Now, where’s my great grandbaby?” Gruffy yells like a battle cry, making even Indie and her unflappable attitude take a nosedive.
Jack, I notice, narrows his eyes at the Landry quip but chooses, wisely, to just shake his head and ignore the old fart as he waves us on behind him.
We all end up following Jack down the hall minutes later to see Callie and the baby. Woody laughs when Dot looks ready to faint at the thought of us getting kicked out.
“Sweetheart, Jack has enough money to do just about any damn thing he wants to. He donated a wing last year and helped them buy new equipment. At this point, the man could walk around with his dick in the breeze and no one would say a thing to him.”
It’s a laughing group that finally peeks into the room where Callie’s laying sweaty but radiant, cradling the tiniest little bundle I’ve ever seen.
“Congratulations!”
“Did it feel like you were being drawn and quartered?”
“I read that chicks crap when they push that hard. Did you crap, Cal?”
By the time I get around to seeing the baby, I’m just about ready to start bawling.
“Oh, Calliopeia girlie, you did a fine thing, you did, my wee lass,” Gruffy says tearfully, accepting the arm Gramps throws around her shoulders.
She’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. In my life. She’s so small I’m terrified to move when Callie places her in my arms and throws Gruffy a wink and a smile.
“She’s perfect, Cal,” I whisper as I gaze down at her scrunched, red little face.
Her hair is wispy and pitch black, just like Jack’s, and I swear to God when she opens her eyes and looks at me I see her smile as if she knows that I would never let a thing hurt her.
&
nbsp; The love I feel is overwhelming and strong, bittersweet as I gaze at her and accept one startling, clapper of an epiphany. Is it okay to let this go, to accept that I will never have this just because the man I love will never give it to me?
I want to give a baby of my own everything I had and didn’t have, and as I look at the baby and feel my heart open I make the decision that I will indeed have this.
I will.
I want to plan a nursery and see the blob on a scan just like Callie and Jack did. I want to spend nine terrible months suffering the grossness that is pregnancy because I’ll know that at the end of that trial I’ll have the most precious reward for the struggle.
I want a baby before I lose the chance.
And I know how I’m going to achieve it.
***
Cage
I wonder if she knows that the sight of her cradling a baby makes me hard enough to pound nails. Or that as I see her face go soft and fill with a love that is breathtaking that I decide I want exactly that—her holding my child, loving it the way I always wanted to be loved.
Probably not. In fact she probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest asshole alive right now and that I’m incapable of love. That I could never look on at a scene this mushy and sappy and think anything good about it.
I never thought I was capable of it, either. Truthfully, if I’d been looking at any other woman gushing and making weird little faces and babbling at a newborn the way she is, I’d have felt nothing but slight amusement for the way females lose their faculties over the little darlings.
Seeing Luci go all melty with the kid, though? Instant boner. Not in a weird way but in a “I am so going to knock you up soon and enjoy doing it” way.
LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) Page 2