Falling for the New Guy

by Nicole Helm

  God, he looked good naked.

  “Focus.” Maybe if she said it out loud she’d be able to. She took a glance out her peephole and hoped the hallway was as empty as it appeared.

  Gingerly, she opened the door, and the hallway was indeed empty. Feeling like an idiot, she tiptoed to the stairwell, then carefully walked down the two flights of stairs.

  She made it to her car, no Marc in sight. She was relieved. Really. That heavy, sinking feeling in her chest was relief, not disappointment.

  Or maybe it was dread. Dread over going to check on Dad. Yeah, she’d go with that one.

  She drove the few miles to her father’s apartment. In the daylight she didn’t feel that carrying was as necessary, and if she was going to run errands afterward, she hated toting her gun around.

  That didn’t mean she didn’t watch apartment 1C with a close eye as she crossed the patchy, poorly kept yard in front of the poorly kept, sunken-in, sagging apartment complex.

  It was all she could afford for him and keep them living separately, and that was one of the few things they agreed on—not sharing a place.

  She knocked, hoping she had really rid his apartment of all the liquor last night. Or that he’d just be waking up, unable to start looking for a drink yet.

  When Dad didn’t answer, fear and dread and guilt lodged in her throat. Oh, hell, when didn’t it when she was on either side of this door?

  She pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. “Dad?”

  The kitchen and living room looked the same as they had last night. Nothing seemed to have moved.

  Oh, God, what if she’d missed something last night? What if he really had been hurt and she’d missed—

  A groan emerged from the hallway and she hurried to it, but Dad wasn’t sprawled out on the ground. He was in either his bedroom or bathroom and she wished for some relief.

  It didn’t appear.

  “Dad?”

  He stumbled out of the bathroom, grizzled and unsteady. He pointed a shaking hand at her. “You took it.”

  She recognized that look. Too well these days. Anger. Blame. Violence. She didn’t always want to fight back. In fact, usually it made her sad. Like that little girl trying to figure out why it was her fault Mom had left.

  She didn’t feel sad now. She felt downright furious because she’d spent her entire life trying to fix him, help him, make it up to him—even if she knew there was nothing to make up.

  And he couldn’t give an inch. Give her one break. One year, one month, one fucking week where she got to worry about her own life and her own problems and just plain old her. One morning where she’d come and he’d be sober or with it enough to be...normal.

  Normal had gotten increasingly sporadic, and she hadn’t even realized it until now. Months and months of things getting worse. A gradual escalation.

  She was at her breaking point. “Yup. Took them. Dumped them out. And I’ll keep doing it.”

  He lunged toward her, hand raised as if he was going to slap. Normally she sidestepped attempts at a blow, but today she didn’t have it in her to be the passive avoider. She grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back like she’d do to any lowlife who tried to attack her when she was on duty.

  “You’re sick, but you’re pushing me too far.” Tears stung her eyes, regret loosening her grip. She stepped back, releasing his arm. “I can’t do much more of this, Dad.”

  He sank to the floor and started to sob. Loud, messy sobs that eroded the last dregs of anger in her heart.

  “Why can’t you help me, Tessie? Why won’t you make me better? Everything could be better if you’d just find a way...” The rest of the words were unintelligible.

  “Go to a hospital, Dad. A treatment facility. It’s the only way. You’re not well, and I can’t make you better.”

  “No wonder she left.” He looked over his shoulder at her, then spat on her shoe. “You’re terrible, Tessie. So fucking terrible. You’re supposed to help me. You.”

  It shouldn’t hurt. The lies, the words of a sick, pathetic man should not cut right through her.

  But they did. They hurt. Hurt enough that there was nothing else to do but leave. Because she couldn’t help him. She couldn’t fix him.

  And she was tired of trying.

  * * *

  THE LAST THING Marc wanted to do today was go to lunch with Leah, but it was probably the best thing he could do with himself. If he stayed in the apartment, well, his reputation as perfect was about to be seriously tarnished.

  He was used to ignoring what he really wanted for the sake of the greater good. In fact, he was so used to it he didn’t even realize he was doing it half the time. Also, because he’d gotten so used to it, he’d all but stopped letting himself want things.

  But regardless of the past or the present, he wanted Tess. Badly. That usual ease he had with denying himself was sorely absent.

  So he grabbed his phone and wallet and keys and walked out to his truck intent on having lunch with his sister, whom he had no idea what to talk to about.

  Yippee.

  He glanced at Tess’s door as he stepped into the hallway. It wasn’t as if he actually expected to see her. Despite that that seemed to happen to them frequently enough.

  He wasn’t at all disappointed that he made it to his car without a glimpse of her. Not a bit. In fact, he was relieved that her car wasn’t in the lot. She was out enjoying her day off, and he would be doing the same.

  Good for the both of them.

  He drove down to Main Street and the place Leah had suggested for lunch. She was already there, sitting at a table and fiddling with the menu.

  “Hey,” he greeted, taking the chair opposite her. He didn’t know if he should be comforted or disappointed she looked about as awkward as he felt.

  “Hey. How’s it going?”

  “Good. Good.”

  “Good.”

  It was ridiculous that they were siblings and yet awkward silence was the most common thing between them. But, hell, if he didn’t know what to do about it after years, when was he going to start?

  They made some strained small talk, ordered, then each looked around the restaurant as they waited for their food. Marc racked his brain for something to say, but the harder he tried, the blanker he got.

  The food finally came, and they each began to eat. It was painful. Why had he agreed to this?

  Because you’re trying not to be a dick of an older brother.

  Right.

  “So.” Leah popped a fry into her mouth. “Um, settling in at work?”

  “Yeah, it’s good.” But he didn’t want to talk about work because work involved Tess and, yeah, no. He took a big bite of his hamburger instead.

  Another silence with Leah tapping and fidgeting. “Any action with the boss lady?”

  He choked on the bite of food but managed to swallow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.” The fact that his face was getting hot with embarrassment made it worse.

  She chuckled. “I don’t know what to ask you, and that’s about all I know about your life. So, until you’re willing to spill more details...” She lifted her palms to the air then dropped them. “I got nothin’ else.”

  “How’s Jacob?”

  She groaned. “Please, I love the guy, but I already have to have this conversation with Mom all the time. Next thing you know you’ll be asking if we’ve been engagement-ring shopping yet or giving me tips on how to get Jacob to propose.”

  “She thinks you’re waiting till they move so she can be part of wedding preparations.”

  “Ugh. Jacob is lucky he’s worth putting up with her for.”

  “It’s because she cares.” It didn’t make sense. Mom’s antics toward Leah were ridiculous and over-the-top, but when Le
ah criticized her, even rightfully, he always felt the need to defend. And he felt like a tool.

  Was being here really better than trying to keep his hands off Tess?

  “I know she cares. But it doesn’t make it less annoying. You’re older, why can’t she be trying to marry you off?”

  Because she doesn’t care about me. But he didn’t say that. He focused on eating and finding a subject that would have nothing to do with their mother.

  “Did you watch the Wild game the other night? Where Rominski got his nose bashed in?” Hockey was the safest topic he could come up with. So he hit it hard even though he knew Leah preferred baseball.

  Anything was better than the three topics they’d already covered: Tess, Mom, caring.

  They awkwardly made it through the rest of lunch, and it wasn’t terrible. After the not-so-great start, it had gotten easier, more comfortable. No matter how little they knew about each other’s lives, no matter how many issues in their relationship, she was his sister, and he wanted to try.

  “Um, you know, if you want to make some friends, I’d really like it if you came to one of our MC outings. I think you and Kyle would get along pretty well. And Henry. You’re all the silent broody type. You can sit around glowering at each other.”

  He managed a chuckle. “Sounds like a blast.”

  She reached across the table and awkwardly patted his arm, which was about as good as a hug from Leah. “It’d be good. To meet some people. Henry’s girlfriend is having us do some potluck dinner–type thing to welcome spring or whatever. You should come.”

  “Am I going to be the only single person there?”

  “You could bring your boss lady.”

  “No. Coworker. Period.”

  “Sure.”

  “I should get going. But...I’ll think about it.” He stood as she did and then they managed an awkward side hug. “This was good.”

  She smiled up at him. “Yes. It was. Hopefully it’ll get better.”

  “Guess we’ll have to keep at it.”

  “Guess so.” She released him. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll even be glad when Mom and Dad are here. Please remind me I feel that way when I’m tearing out my hair.”

  “Deal.” They said their goodbyes and walked to separate cars, and Marc did actually feel a little good about how lunch had gone. He didn’t imagine that staying in place once Mom and Dad moved to Bluff City for good, surrounding him with their constant Leah worship, but for the interim, he’d call it a success.

  He occupied himself for the rest of the afternoon by trying to find a gym with a decent rate and decent equipment and then grocery shopping for the week. He was quite proud of himself. He’d had a productive day that didn’t involve ruminating over the Tess situation...too much. Maybe he’d tossed a box of condoms into his cart at the store, but they were just...to have on hand. Not in case Tess changed her mind about the one-night-stand thing.

  Suuuure.

  He pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex and refused to scan the lot for Tess’s car. If she was here, great. If not, that was great, too. Not something he needed to concern himself with at present.

  He managed to finagle all the bags into his grasp and walked up the flights of stairs to his apartment.

  And there was Tess. On his doorstep. Looking sheepish. And beautiful. How the hell was he supposed to make the right choice here?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “GROCERY SHOPPING. I did that, too,” Tess greeted lamely.

  “Um. Oh.” He stood there at the top of the stairs, blinking at her, holding what looked like an uncomfortable number of bags.

  “Can I help?”

  He blinked again, then seemed to resign himself to the fact she was here, butting into his life again.

  Because, damn it, she wanted something good in her life and he was the best available option.

  He stepped toward his door, keys already in hand. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  She pushed to a standing position so he could get to his door and unlock it. “Yes,” she said, sounding like a breathy idiot. “I’m sure.”

  He did his nod thing and then pushed the door open, inclining his head in a signal for her to go first.

  While he held on to a lot of heavy-looking grocery bags, biceps straining at the weight. Hi, biceps, we missed you.

  Jeez.

  He pushed the door closed with his foot and then strode to the kitchen. Without saying anything, he began to unpack his groceries. It was annoyingly all healthy stuff, too. Like fruits and vegetables and tuna fish. Protein powder and yogurt.

  Not a damn bag of gummy worms in sight. She could really use some gummy worms. Bears would do in a pinch.

  Because she’d never done anything like this. Like last night. She didn’t ignore reason and what had to be done for what she wanted. Never. In all her life.

  But that’s what she was going to do, damn it. Yes, that’s what she was going to do. “I have a proposition for you.”

  He looked up from his mushrooms. He’d seriously bought mushrooms?

  “Proposition?” he said at length, and though he kept his expression frustratingly blank in that way he had when they’d first worked together, she noticed his hand had tightened on the package of mushrooms. Considerably.

  “I...yes. A proposition. One you’re free to say no to.”

  He turned to the refrigerator, shoving the mushrooms inside with more force than necessary. Followed by a bag of baby carrots, a package of broccoli.

  Seriously, where was the junk food? The secret cake stash. The cookies, damn it.

  “You think I’ll say no to any proposition you’re going to offer me?” he asked, his back still turned.

  “Well, it’s kind of insulting.”

  His posture changed and the noise that came out of his mouth, something like a harsh laugh, wasn’t exactly nice.

  Hidden hurts.

  She took a deep breath. He knew her hurts, she could know his. And they could have something. If they were careful.

  Something for her. For once.

  “I thought maybe... Well, the thing is... You know, this would be easier to do if you could turn around and look at me.”

  He didn’t do it right away. Stood straighter, then after a few humming seconds closed the refrigerator door, slowly turning around, eyes meeting hers.

  She opened her mouth but no sound came out, because, jeez. He was looking at her all broody and intense like last night and, um, what was she thinking/saying/doing?

  “Go on.”

  “Right. Right.” She took a step forward, wringing her hands. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt this nervous, this vulnerable, because she’d learned a long time ago not to ask for things she wanted. She’d learned to go out and get things herself or to do without.

  She should do without, but what an exhausting way to live. And Marc was right here and—

  “Tess.”

  “I thought we could sleep together again,” she blurted, hating herself a little even as excitement sparked in her blood. “Maybe date, but it’d all have to be done secretly—that’s the insulting part.”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t react. It was so Marc. She wished she could do that as well as he did. Study. Assess. Think, all without giving away a thing.

  “You can say no,” she said again, not quite as flippantly or steadily as she would have preferred.

  “Why would you risk this thing that’s so important to you? I don’t mean that dismissively. I understand why it’s so important to you, Tess. I do. So, why?”

  She had no doubt he did understand, and she had no doubt if he kept being so sweet and understanding she’d choke to death on the lump in her throat, because, damn it, she was not cryin
g in front of him again. No way.

  She swallowed, cleared her throat, trying to dislodge that lump. “My whole life right now, and for a very long time, is and has been two things. Work and my dad. I love my work. I don’t know what I’d do without it, but the fact of the matter is I help people all day, or try to help people all day, and then I either come home and hide out from helping my father, or I go help him. I don’t get a whole lot of thanks from any of these people I’m helping, you know?”

  “I do.”

  He said it so emphatically, it made her think about all those little hints that he had something going on under the surface. Those hidden hurts she wanted to know more about. She wanted to see him. Understand him.

  She stepped forward, purposefully dropping her hands to her sides so she’d stop wringing them together. “Nothing is for me. Every once in a while I scrimp enough money together to buy a leather jacket or a nice phone instead of the cheapest version. Every once in a while I sit down for an evening and binge on a TV show. But, like, ninety-five percent of my life is not... It’s doing things for other people, and as much as I like that or don’t have a choice in that, I’m at a breaking point, I guess. A pre-midlife crisis. I want something for me.”

  “And that’s...”

  She put her palm to his chest. “That’s you.” She forced herself to look into those intense brown eyes, the color of some sweet liqueur. “I like you. I like how I feel with you. Maybe I can’t really have you, but if we could pretend for a little bit, on the down low, I could really, really use that.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t ready for that, so she put her hand over his mouth. Which was silly, but she liked touching him. She liked being this close. And she liked that he let her do it.

  “I don’t mean, like, I need you to swoop in and save me.”

  “I’m getting tired of the superhero thing,” he grumbled against her palm.

  Which made her smile. She liked his grumble. That he didn’t take everything she dished out.

  “I just mean to say, I’m not some helpless, desperate creature, no matter how much this week has tried to prove otherwise. I will survive if you say no. You should only do it if—”