Finding Perseverance (The Unexpected Love Series Book 3)

by T. E. Black

  Why did she have to notice me at all?

  Keeping my back turned toward her, I reply. “No. I’m good. Just got turned around.”

  “No one takes this alley unless they know about it.” She chuckles. “It’s kind of a hidden gem. You obviously knew where you were going.”

  Her voice gets closer, and it’s only a heartbeat before her hand lightly touches my upper arm. “So, I’ll ask again. Can I help you?”

  She’s already seen me. So what’s the difference at this point? I only hope this girl can keep her mouth sealed tight about seeing me.

  “Uh … yeah. Do you know Ryleigh O’Donnell? I’m looking for her.”

  As I turn around, the girl looks at me for a moment, and then dips her head a bit, as if trying to get a better angle. It’s then I realize my hood is probably hiding most of my face. I have two choices: let her think I’m some creeper in an alley or pull the hood down. My gut says that she won’t tell anyone. It also says that since this girl knows the secret gem of an alley, she also knows Leigh. I risk it and pull the hood back.

  “Holy shit,” she whispers, squeezing my arm.

  I give her a tight-lipped smile as she walks backward toward the door, dragging me with all her might right along with her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Ryleigh’s covering the bar for me, but you can’t stand out here in the open. If anyone sees you … fuck. We’ll have a damn riot out here.” Her voice is no more than a hiss as she shoves me into a corner under the stairs, which blocks anyone from seeing me.

  “Stay here for a minute, and I’ll grab Ryleigh. And don’t let anyone see you.” I don’t get a chance to answer before the girl is slipping through the employees only door.

  Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I shoot Josie a text so she knows everything's good, but not before seeing dozens of missed calls for Leigh. I sag against the brick wall behind me, sighing.

  This is going to be interesting.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ryleigh

  “Ryleigh! Where’ve you been hiding all day?” Andy, a regular at the bar, asks.

  His bucktoothed grin and slurred words tell me he’s ten sheets to the wind, but I still go on as if I’m not going to cut him off anytime soon.

  “Lots of paperwork to get done.” I fake chuckle as I pour him a Jack and Coke, which is more soda and ice than anything. “Who would’ve ever thought owning a bar would be work?”

  Andy belts out a laugh, nodding his head in agreement. “I’d think owning a bar would be a piece of cake. Free booze, gorgeous women in and out, and not to mention the best damn jukebox selection in Boston.”

  “I can assure you the jukebox selection is standard at every bar across the country,” I tease.

  “Ryleigh!”

  I swing my head in the direction of the office where Sarah stands a bit wild eyed and out of breath. With her heavy breathing and reddened skin color, she looks like she ran a damn marathon to get here.

  “Uh … I need you out back for a minute.”

  “We’ll be fine alone for a few minutes,” Andy speaks up. “Go see what she needs.”

  “Thanks, Andy.” I smile at him as I tap the bar. “Hold down the fort?”

  “You got it.” Andy gives me a wink and a nod as I walk toward Sarah. She was fine before she went outside, so what the hell happened?

  “What’s up?”

  “You have to come out back for a minute.”

  Before I have a chance to ask her why, she’s power walking to the back of the building. She swings open the back door, and the light from outside brightens the dim hallway.

  “Are You going to tell me what’s going on, Sarah?” I question, following her out into the alleyway.

  “No, but he will.”

  “Leigh?”

  I hear my name pronounced by the raspy, manly voice I’ve been dying to hear. Everything around me freezes when my eyes lock on to the most breathtaking green irises I’ve ever seen. Rook’s short brown hair peeks out from the hood on his sweatshirt while his neck tattoos creep out from the collar.

  “Rook?” I whisper.

  With the nod of his head, he gives me a closed mouthed smile. “It’s me.”

  I stand, staring at him in what I believe is shock. I never thought he’d come here. I never thought he’d come to me. I figured he’d be hiding out somewhere, staying clear of the media—not standing under the fire escape behind my bar.

  “Holy shit,” I whimper, tears welling in my eyes. “You’re … here.”

  “Leigh, I need—” He stops midsentence, staring at me as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen me. His gaze alone sets my heart into a frenzy of emotions—fear, anger, sadness, relief. Each feeling crashes into a different part of me, making the situation too much to handle.

  “You’re … you’re here.”

  The tears flood my vision and cloud my judgment as a sob rakes through me. Then, I leap for him, my arms locking around his neck with no intention of letting him go.

  “I’m here, Leigh. I’m here,” he comforts as I cry.

  His fingers stroke my hair, and it takes me back to our younger days. Lakes of tears and years of regret seem worth it in this moment, because no one has ever made me feel this way before.

  “I need to get out of sight so we can talk. Can I come inside?” he asks, pulling away from our embrace.

  I’m staring up at Rook’s pleading expression when the realization hits full force. He didn’t come see me to ease my worry. He didn’t come because I’ve called his phone twenty times in the past five hours. He didn’t come here because he wanted to see me—to explain things.

  Rook needs somewhere to hide.

  He needs my help.

  Fuck.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Leigh, it’s me—Rook. Are you all right?”

  I take two steps back from him. It’s too hard to think when he’s this close to me.

  “Why do you need somewhere to hide?” I cross my arms over my chest. “You didn’t come here to see me. You came here for help, and I’m not helping you until you tell me what you’re hiding from.”

  Although I know the answer already, I still need to hear it from him. With the news, a story can get spun in a million different angles.

  I try to turn my head away from him, but he reaches up and his fingers grip my chin the same way they used to when we were younger. Whenever I tried to close myself off, Rook would have me look him dead in the eyes. He knew I couldn’t lie to his face. I couldn’t hurt him on purpose if I saw how much it affected him. Well, until the day he left.

  “You didn’t see the news?”

  “I saw it.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “That doesn’t mean I know the whole story.”

  Rook blows out a frustrated breath and runs his hand through his chocolate-brown hair. Saying he looks worn out is an understatement. He looks like he’s been through hell and back before he came here.

  Maybe that’s the reason he came here. Maybe that’s the reason he’s asking to hide out in Max’s until this blows over. Because he knows I would never judge him for anything. I would never ask him twice if he told me what happened, because I trust him. I trust him more than I trust myself sometimes.

  “I didn’t kill her, Leigh.” His voice is low and almost … hurt, which makes me feel like a dick for questioning him. “I’m telling you the truth. What I tell you will be the truth. I’ve never lied to you, and I won’t start now.”

  I take my two steps back and place my hands on his chest. At the contact, he sucks in a sharp breath, almost as if I’m making him nervous. His muscles tense under my palms, and there is a deep satisfaction in knowing that I can still affect him this way after all these years.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it, but it’s been a long time since we’ve spent more than five minutes talking. How do I know all your fame didn’t change you? People become liars all the time.”

  Rook surely do
esn’t miss my feisty tone. His eyes squint a bit before he starts chuckling under his breath.

  “You know, this new Leigh—she’s something else.” He may be laughing, but his smile is a bit broken.

  “I’d say so.”

  Our eyes go to war with a stare down that is epic enough to be in the record books. Eventually, I’m the one who blinks.

  “All right. I’ll give in … this time.” I take his hand into mine. “You can stay here, but understand this, because I won’t say it again. I won’t be lied to, Rook. I don’t care if you think you have to or if your lawyers tell you to, I won’t deal with it. That’s not who we’ve ever been, and like you, I don’t plan to start now. Got it?”

  “I wouldn’t even think about it. You know me better than that.”

  “All right. Well, come on. Let’s get you out of sight.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rook

  Seeing Leigh for the first time since Mom’s funeral makes me feel almost normal. For the first time since Lauren’s death, I don’t feel like I am under a microscope.

  She isn’t trying to find flaws in my story or my words. She wants the truth, and without a question of a doubt she believed it. Not that she shouldn’t. I’d never lie to her. That’s not who we are—were.

  “How long do you plan on staying?” she asks, peering over her shoulder at me.

  “As long as you’ll let me,” I counter.

  The steps to the apartment above Max’s come into view, and my heart races. “Can’t we go talk in the bar?”

  Leigh peeks over her shoulder again, this time with a raised brow. “It might be a problem if you're trying to hide. We open earlier than we used to, but if you want to out yourself, then by all means—bar it is.”

  Fuck. I didn't think seeing those worn, wooden steps would shake me like it is. I never thought being surrounded by the bar, the people, Leigh, would mess with my head or my heart.

  I assumed if she let me stay with her, I'd being staying in the apartment. But, I thought it would be easier than it is to walk up these damn stairs. These stairs hold the best and the worst memories for me.

  “Rook?”

  The memory of us at nineteen—on these steps, overshadows the bad and has me smiling from ear to ear.

  “I missed these steps,” I confess.

  Leigh looks at me like I’m out of my mind, but then, ever so slowly, a smug grin lifts her lips. She leans against the old, wooden staircase railing, gazing up to the front door of the apartment.

  “There’s a lot of memories on these steps.”

  I nod in agreement. “I remember one time in particular.”

  “Oh yeah? What time is that?” She finally turns back to me.

  “You know what time I’m thinking about.”

  I watch as she throws her head back, letting a fit of laughter bubble from her throat. The urge to kiss the soft expanse of skin has me sweating from head to toe.

  “You mean the night we almost made love on these stairs?” My mind wanders back to that night.

  “Fuck, Leigh. If you keep kissing my neck like that, screw waiting until I get you in the door. We're not going to make it up the stairs at this rate,” I rasp in her hair.

  Nipping at the tender skin of my earlobe, her voice comes out seductive and soft all at the same time. “I don’t care if we make it to the apartment, Rook. I want you, and I don't care where we are. So long as you’re inside me, I'll be the happiest woman alive.”

  Her fingers slip between us, skating over the buttons on my dress shirt. The first pop is audible, deafening even. It spikes my adrenaline to a new level of need, lust, want.

  “Jesus,” I groan, feeling my dick grow hard. “That night will do down in history as one of the best.”

  Leigh eyes my body up and down before trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “What can I say? You were always sexy after a fight.”

  A low, almost predatorily growl rips from my chest as I relive that night.

  “Fuck me, Rook. Take your adrenaline out on me. Let me bring you down from the high. Let me replace that high with a high of our own.”

  Hearing her give me permission to work off some energy on her breaks my heart. Leigh shouldn't have to offer herself. She shouldn't have to lose so I gain during sex. She should be the one experiencing a new high. I don't deserve it.

  I just beat a man until he was unconscious on the mat, all so I could take my girl out somewhere nice for our anniversary. When I say nice, I don't mean a nice restaurant or a romantic vacation. Where I plan to take Leigh is straight to the alter. Her in a wedding dress, me in a tux, a diamond ring on her finger—the ultimate prize.

  She’s bigger than any fight I have to prepare for.

  Ryleigh O’Donnell is my toughest opponent.

  She’s fearless, loyal, gorgeous, and the woman I’ll marry.

  That night was beautiful. She was beautiful. Nothing in my life has ever topped the moments I spent with her, not one single thing has even come close.

  “You all right?” she laughs, giving me a knowing glance.

  “Yeah. I’m good,” I answer, taking the steps two at a time.

  “Don't mind the mess, I haven't been up here since you lef— For a few years.”

  Her hand is resting on the knob, but I can still see the tremor in it. Without thinking, I reach around her waist and cover her hand with mine. As soon as we touch, she sucks in a sharp breath.

  “It’s all right, Leigh.”

  The electricity flowing between us is off the charts where affection is concerned. It's a familiar feeling I've missed so damn much. It makes me question why I ever left her at all. It makes me think I made a terrible mistake by walking out on her when I knew she never wanted me to. And, the fact I’m questioning the past with Leigh has me thinking that maybe I was trying to fill a void when I fell for Lauren. Maybe Leigh was always the woman for me.

  “I'm fine,” she says and then softly sighs. “Let me open the door, Rook. Please.”

  After a lingering second, I drop my hand and step back.

  Leigh opens the door to our old apartment and every memory, every smile, every laugh—it all comes rushing back in a sea of voices, pictures, and feelings. It’s surreal. Every single thing I've tried to bury while out living a different life floats to the surface and takes over.

  As she disappears into darkness, I squint my eyes in an attempt to see how the place looks after all this time. It's not until she flicks on a ceiling light that I get a full view of our two-bedroom flat.

  “It’s dusty as hell up here, but I'm sure there's still some of your clothes around,” she murmurs, looking around the tiny apartment.

  “Leigh, the place is exactly the way I left it,” I say in complete shock.

  The black, pleather sofa with a pull-out bed I spent many nights sleeping on.

  The pictures hanging on the walls.

  The light gray wall paint.

  The almost black stained wooden floors.

  I walk down the short hallway, and peek through the open door to the bedroom.

  Our bed with the same black comforter.

  Twin, white painted, wooden dressers.

  She didn't change one single thing about the apartment after I left. It's almost as if I never left to begin with. If I were crazy, I could pretend I went on a beer run for ten years, walked back into this apartment, and resumed life. Leigh would be waiting for me in bed, naked of course, and the second I walked in the door, I'd drop the bottles to the floor and say, “It feels good to be home.” I'd ravage my girl as if it were my only job—I'd redo all I've undone.

  I'd fix everything.

  “I haven't been up here,” she defends herself.

  “I thought we were telling the truth?” I ask as I walk back to where she stands in the living room.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re lying.”

  Looking shocked, she snaps, “How the hell am I lying to you?”

/>   “We never drank Budweiser.” I nod my head to the dining room table.

  On cue, she looks over her shoulder, and damn, I wish I could see her face. There's no denying she's been up here recently. A sweating, six-pack of Budweiser bottles don't lie. If they were up here for ten years, those bottles wouldn't be turning warm—they'd be sweltering hot.

  “They're not mine.”

  “No?”

  “No. You're being insane. Just because there's a six-pack on the table doesn't mean it's mine. And, so what if it is? This is my apartment now. It was my apartment for three fucking years after you left.”

  Stalking toward her, I back her against the wall with my body. Her breasts rub against me, but I have to ignore it. I can't get turned on when she's lying straight to my face.

  “Don't lie to me, Leigh.”

  Straightening her shoulders, she stares in my eyes with fierce intent to kill.

  “You want the truth, Rook? Is that what you want?” She laughs. “You don't get to tell me when I can or can't lie to someone. You don't get to tell me a damn thing. If you haven't noticed, I'm different now. I'm not the same scared, little girl I was ten years ago. I've been through more than you'd ever be able to comprehend. So, don't come into my bar and my fucking apartment and bark orders like you still have a say—because you don't.”

  I look at her, like really look at her. The way her shoulders are squared against me, her small fists balled and resting on her hips, the way her head is tilted just a bit to the side, and I know. I just know that she doesn’t want to admit that she has missed me and that’s why she lied about being up here. It’s not that I blame her, either, considering the circumstances that landed me on her doorstep. How would I have felt if she turned up at my place after being accused of murdering someone she was sleeping with.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” My words are soft, but still, she fights against whatever she feels. We stare at each other for a moment, and I wait for her to accept the silent apology I’m offering. Eventually, her shoulders drop and she blows out a deep breath. Then, before I can brace myself against it, she hits me in the chest with the palms of her hand and shoves me.