No Apologies

by Sybil Bartel

  “What do you want me to say?” she hissed.

  “Goddamn it, you can’t tell me I’m wrong. You can’t stand there and tell me anything I said was a lie.”

  “No, but I can stand here and tell you you’re so far off base, it’s frightening,” she snapped back.

  Off base? Was she crazy? “What part of me don’t you understand? Just fucking ask anyone and they’ll tell you I’m a prick. I don’t know how to do this—” I waved two fingers between us, not knowing what the hell to call us.

  “Well, that’s just fucking perfect because neither do I!”

  Red-faced from yelling, hands on her hips, she looked defiant and pissed and I suddenly found her cute as hell. I couldn’t help it, I broke out in a smile. Not just any smile but a huge, shit-eating, inappropriate, my-timing-was-ass grin.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Graham Allen!”

  That did it. I started laughing, really laughing. With tears in my eyes, I managed to choke out between laughs, “You gonna start breaking glasses? Cuz I don’t see any plates nearby.”

  “Screw you.” But she was smiling.

  “You’re cute as hell when you’re pissed.” And sexy. And I wanted to kiss her.

  “There is something seriously wrong with you.”

  I roared with laughter. God, it felt good. “You’re just now figuring that out? Shit, you’re slow on the uptake, Hummingbird.”

  She huffed off and I waited till closing to take her home. Once everyone had left and she came out from behind the bar to lock up, I pulled her into my arms. I hugged her tight and when she hugged me back, I knew we were okay.

  We left the bar and a cop car was parked at the curb. The window went down and her father smiled as he spoke into his radio. I had to admit, it was slightly intimidating seeing him in uniform. Maybe it was because I knew he had a gun and I had my arm draped over his daughter.

  He typed something in his computer, then got out of the car. Carly went right to him and his face lit up with the Sullivan smile.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, baby doll.” He kissed the top of her head and held her tight a minute. “How was work?”

  “Okay, slow.”

  Cash glanced at me then back at his daughter. “I heard Harlan and some of the boys at the gym today say they were coming by tonight. Did he give you a hard time?”

  So her father knew about Harlan.

  “No, it was fine. You don’t have to worry.” She glanced at her feet.

  Cash eyed her suspiciously. “Hey, you tell me if he did.” The he inclined his head at me. “Or tell that one, I’m sure he’d set him straight.” He chuckled.

  “Daddy,” Carly admonished.

  “Just looking out for you, sweetheart. Can’t fault a father for that.” Cash looked at me. “Can you, Graham?”

  How the fuck would I know? “No, sir.”

  “Well, I can see you don’t need a ride home.” Cash’s radio on his shoulder squawked and he spoke a series of radio codes into it. “Gotta run.” He kissed Carly again and looked me in the eye. “Get her home safe.”

  “Plan on it.” Realizing Carly’s father probably drove her home when he wasn’t out on a call made me feel marginally better about not being here every night.

  “Goodnight, Daddy, see you tomorrow.”

  “Night, sugar.” He took off, lights flashing.

  “What’s tomorrow and why aren’t you riding the Rebel to work?” Not that a motorcycle was safer than a car at two o’clock in the morning but it was something.

  “I like to walk and I’m meeting him at the gym.”

  I didn’t touch the first part of what she’d said because I was focused on the gym. The gym Harlan went to. Great. “Let’s go.”

  Carly laughed softly. “I can read you like a book.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked that. “Yeah?” I put my arm back around her and led her to my car.

  “Mmm-hmm, you’re not happy I’ll see Harlan tomorrow.”

  Christ. “Can you blame me?”

  “Nope.”

  And for some reason, that made her cheerful as hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Favor

  Carly had the following night off work and I’d asked her to dinner, again. I was setting a bad precedent seeing her multiple nights in a row. Hell, I’d already set a bad precedent by kissing her and taking her on a date and telling her about my mother. Fuck it, in for a penny. I had no other excuses left.

  I had a cleaning lady come in once a week who also occasionally ran errands for me. Knowing I was going to cook Carly dinner tonight, I’d left money on the counter and asked her to pick up some new dishes and a few groceries.

  I worked through lunch and convinced the band to meet an hour early. By the time I got out of work, it was drizzling. I texted Carly to tell her I’d pick her up after practice. Myles caught up with me while I was packing up my bass.

  “We good for tomorrow night?” Myles had booked us at 701 again. The gig was on our website so we’d get a bigger turnout.

  “Why do I get the impression you aren’t talking about the show?” Jep and Myles were convinced Georgia was going to show. Jep had left me multiple messages warning me but I’d been ignoring the whole damn thing.

  “You know what I mean.” Looking unimpressed, Myles stared at me. Neil had taught him well. He could be almost as intimidating given half a chance.

  I sighed and ran a hand over my head. Christ, I didn’t want to talk about this. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Neil told the bouncers that if Georgia shows up to let us know. Are you sure you don’t want to keep her out?”

  I did and I didn’t. She was persistent if nothing else. I didn’t think she’d disappear all on her own so I was resigned to letting this play out. “Whatever happens, happens.”

  “Hope you’re right.”

  “Fuck, Myles, what can she do?” I was irritated he was taking this so fucking seriously.

  “I don’t know, I don’t have a mother.”

  Jesus Christ. “Neither do I,” I shot back. It was a shitty thing to say to him but I wasn’t going to let him play victim. When he didn’t respond, I walked out.

  I drove home to shower and change. Dinner was going to be simple: steaks, baked potatoes and salad. I put the potatoes in the oven, quickly set the table with new plates and went to pick up Carly.

  The drizzle had turned into a steady rain. I called Carly when I got to her place and told her I was out front. She came downstairs and dashed to the car. I liked how she didn’t fuss with an umbrella or sweat her hair getting wet. She hopped in the car in a raincoat, jeans and boots. Her hair was twisted up with a clip and she was wearing my favorite smile.

  I leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. It felt good, natural. “Hey, Hummingbird.”

  “Hi, how was practice? You ready for tomorrow night?”

  Shit. I should’ve realized she’d know about the show. I hadn’t said anything to her about it, stupidly thinking if I didn’t mention it, she wouldn’t know. I didn’t want her there, for obvious reasons.

  “Yeah, you working tomorrow night?” She usually did on Thursdays.

  “I was but I switched shifts.” She smiled triumphantly.

  I stalled. “Yeah? Why’s that?” She was gonna freak when I told her not to go and didn’t explain why.

  “To see you, of course.” Her smile faltered.

  I quickly changed the subject. “You hungry?” I told myself it’d be better to tell her at the end of the night, but the truth was I wimped out.

  “Yep.” Her smile was back. “Where are we going?”

  “My house.” I put the Barracuda in gear, avoiding looking at her.

  We were quiet on the ride over. She didn’t even slam her door when we got to my place.

  “There’s beer in the fridge or a bottle of wine, if you want.” I pulled a bottle opener and a wine opener out of a drawer and tossed them on the counter. “Glasses are in the cupboard.
I’m going to light the grill.” I walked out of the kitchen. I knew I was being rude.

  I had a covered porch off the family room where I kept my grill. I was squatting, opening the valve to the gas tank for the grill, when Carly held a bottle of beer over my shoulder. Grabbing it, I stood up.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, lighting the burners. After checking to make sure everything was lit, I closed the grill and turned around.

  “What’s going on?” Carly stood there holding her beer, looking worried.

  I didn’t want to do this now so I took her hand and led her back to the kitchen. Wordlessly, I sat her at the island and pulled stuff out to make a salad.

  “Want help?”

  “I got it.” I glanced at her and half smiled. “Thanks.”

  She studied me for a few minutes, then spoke up. “I know you’re a quiet person but I’d like to think I know you well enough to know when something’s wrong. If I did something, please tell me.”

  My shoulders slumped. The last thing I wanted was for her to think she did something wrong. Shit. I had one shot at this. I put my knife down, walked around the island and put my hands on her shoulders. “I want to ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  I couldn’t not touch her. I skimmed a finger along her jaw, down her throat. “I want you to trust me, for one night.”

  Her reply was instant. “Okay.”

  “Not tonight, tomorrow.”

  Confusion swept across her face. “Tomorrow?”

  I wrapped my hands around her nape. “I don’t want you at the show tomorrow.”

  The color drained from her face. I knew what she was thinking. I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t about a woman because I’d promised myself never to lie to her again.

  “Can I ask why?”

  “You could.”

  “But you won’t tell me.” It wasn’t a question. She turned her head and I let her, saying nothing.

  “You’re not trying to reassure me that this isn’t about another woman.”

  I heard the hurt in her voice but irrationally, I got angry. I dropped my hands. “Does it matter?”

  She looked up and her expression said it all. It fucking mattered.

  I got angrier. I’d been with her every night. Couldn’t she see that?

  “Are you seeing someone else?” Not bothering to hide her emotions, her words caught in her throat.

  I didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  She nodded but her expression didn’t change. “Are you going to see another woman?”

  I could say no. I could say I’d tried like hell to erase her from my conscience with other women. I could tell her that for the first time in my life I didn’t want anyone else. But I didn’t. “I’m here with you.”

  “So you’ve said.” She got up and finished chopping the vegetables I’d left on the cutting board.

  I took the steaks out of the fridge, feeling like a bomb was about to drop. “How do you like your steak cooked?”

  “Medium.” She slammed the knife down through the carrot she was chopping.

  Not quite the bomb I was imagining. “Should I rescue that carrot before I put the steaks on?”

  When she glanced up at me, there was uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you like me?”

  Startled, I stood there a moment. Did I like her? Was she crazy? She was all I thought about. Did she even know how significant that was for someone like me? I turned away. “I’ll go put the steaks on.” If she couldn’t see how much I liked her, words weren’t going to mean shit.

  “Why?” she asked my back.

  I turned around and saw a shit storm of emotions pass across her features. Waiting her out, I didn’t say anything.

  Her chin tilted up and she squared her shoulders. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I asked you to.” And because, goddamn it, I wanted her trust. I didn’t deserve it but I fucking wanted it and I was pissed I didn’t have it.

  Inhaling sharply, she let it out slow and a beautiful innocence spread across her expression. “Simple as that?”

  My anger deflated. “Simple as that, Hummingbird.”

  “All right, I won’t go.” She went back to the salad.

  I threw the steaks on and didn’t go back inside till they were done. When I came back, Carly had put music on. Old school grunge. Interesting choice. I plated the steaks, grabbed the potatoes and salad and set them on the table. She was at my bookcase, her back to me, the music on loud enough that she didn’t hear me come up behind her. I was careful not to touch her like Harlan had.

  “Hey.” I spoke close to her ear. She jumped and I caught her arm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s okay.” She shook my hand away and I could tell her mood had gone completely south. Couldn’t say I blamed her.

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  We sat and ate, the music doing nothing to fill the void between us. I could make this better but if I did, I felt like I’d be cheating myself. I was testing her. It was a shitty thing to do but I was doing it.

  “Dinner’s good, thank you,” she said halfway through her steak.

  “You’re welcome.” I was afraid to say anything else.

  “Are you singing ‘Break’ tomorrow night?”

  “Myles can have the spotlight.” I said evasively.

  “You should, you sing it better.”

  I ignored her compliment. I was trying to figure out if it bothered me that she didn’t ask about the new song.

  “Why don’t you like to sing your own song?” she asked when I didn’t reply.

  “Because you won’t be there.” I concentrated on my steak instead of looking at her. It was half truth and half fishing to make sure she still wasn’t coming.

  “I almost believe you.”

  “Believe what you want.” I pushed my chair back and stood. I was all about the music, I was in a fucking band for chrissakes, but the volume was driving me insane. I strode over and shut it off. I didn’t like where tonight had gone and I didn’t want to be the one to fix it.

  I forced myself to sit back down and wait until she’d finished her dinner. Grasping for small talk, I asked about the gym.

  “Great, I actually sparred with Harlan today. Got a few good kicks in too.” She smiled deliberately.

  “Good for you,” I mumbled, getting up to clear my plate. I had to count to ten, concentrating on my breathing the whole time.

  Carly followed me into the kitchen and watched while I threw the dishes in the dishwasher.

  “Feels like shit, doesn’t it?” she asked casually.

  “What does?” I didn’t bother to mask my irritation.

  “Jealousy. You can drive me home now.” She picked up her jacket and walked to the garage.

  We didn’t speak a word on the drive home. When I pulled up in front of her place, she gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek.

  “Good night, thanks again for dinner.” Her cheerful work voice rang through the car before she hopped out.

  An hour later I was in bed, too pissed to sleep when the text came through.

  Carly: I didn’t spar with Harlan

  My relief was instant and I texted back without thinking it through.

  Me: I’m not sleeping with anyone

  It was five minutes before she responded.

  Carly: You asked me to trust you but you don’t trust me

  Me: I never said I didn’t trust you

  Carly: No, you showed me

  Goddamn it. I dialed her number.

  “Hey.” She sounded weary when she answered.

  “I asked you not to be there because I don’t want my past to touch you. Eventually I’ll tell you about it, but not now. Why did you lie to me about sparring?”

  “I’m sorry, it was wrong,” she said immediately.

  “Not good enough. Do you lie to me a lot?”

  “No.”

  “How would I know? You want me to trust you but I’m not the one lying.” Now I was angry
.

  “I’m not lying. I don’t lie!” Frustration had amped up her voice.

  “But tonight you did. Why?” I was careful to keep my voice controlled.

  “I don’t know! I didn’t mean to. I’ve never been in this situation before!”

  What situation? Now I had to worry about a situation? What the fuck? This had gone completely off the deep end. I needed to end this conversation. “Good night, Carly.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I thought you’d arranged to have another woman at the show, someone who’d give you what I don’t.”

  I knew this was about sex. I couldn’t fault her insecurity, she knew what I was about, or what I used to be about, but I hadn’t slept with anyone since that skank at the club. I was fucking trying for her. Couldn’t she see I was with her every night? “Yeah? And what’s that? A fucking headache?” I rubbed my hand over my face.

  She giggled. Honest to God, she giggled.

  “I am a little irritating,” she admitted.

  “Christ, Hummingbird.” Irritating didn’t cover it.

  “But you keep coming back for more,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, that I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Trash

  I would have known her anywhere. It could have been a sea of thousands, and I would’ve picked out her face instantly. Swimming in the hundreds of faces in the crowd, it was the eyes I recognized. Green ones that mirrored my own were full of nothing but hate.

  I thought I would be pissed.

  My fingers played the chords, hard, total boss, I hit the backup vocals cue on.

  I stared. I played. I sang.

  Fuck her. Sweat running down my face, I didn’t miss a single fucking riff.

  The roar of the crowd, the band by my side, this was my fucking life—she had nothing on me. Not one fucking thing.

  Fuck. Her.

  Myles sang the last line of the song and flawlessly segued into “Break.” Stepping back from the microphone, he turned to me. “Kill it,” he yelled over the harsh opening chords.

  I moved into the glare of the spotlight and I sang the new lyrics to “Break.”

  I never said I was willing