by T. E. Black
“I won’t fight you.”
He grins, stepping forward so he’s nose to nose with me. “Pussy.”
I grit my teeth as I speak. “Back off before I do something we’ll both regret.”
A sarcastic laugh rips from him before he becomes livid. “Please, Rook! Spare me the ass beating. You’ve been going on your merry way, fucking anything you can get your hands on—including Ryleigh. And you don’t give a shit about who you leave behind. I’m sick of it! You cause trouble wherever you go! You’re supposed to be my brother, my own blood, yet you couldn’t be farther from that if you tried! Not to mention you stole my best friend. You think you can just swoop in and have Ryleigh back? You don’t deserve her. You change her, Rook! You always have.”
“Don’t bring Leigh into this.” It’s the only warning I’m going to give him.
Trent has always known exactly what to say to send me over the edge. Hell, he’s the master of pissing me off to no end. And, as much as I’m trying to stay calm, if he brings Leigh into this I won’t go so easy on him.
“Why the hell shouldn’t I bring her into this? She’s part of the problem! You’re both the problem! Neither of you give a damn about anyone else, only yourselves!” he shouts. “Fuck her, Rook! And fuck you, too! You can have her! Take her! I don’t care! She’s about as bad of a person as you are at the moment. Neither of you mean a goddamn thing to me,” he snaps.
I snap.
Before I can think, I’m moving. My fingers curl tightly at my side. My fist comes up and slams into his jaw, snapping his head to the side before he crumples to the ground. It’s not a knock-out punch, but he will think twice next time he tries to spout off about Leigh.
“Fuck you, Rook!” he screams, blood spilling from his lip. “Fuck you! Your time will come! Don’t you worry!”
Sarah and Leigh help Trent up, but when they reach the door Leigh stays behind.
“What the hell, Rook?” Leigh says, her eyes wide and a bit wild. “Why the hell did you do that?”
I stalk toward Leigh until I’m just inches from her.
“I warned him to stop bringing you into it,” I say as calmly as I can.
“I can take care of myself.”
I want to tell her that I know she can. “But you didn’t.” Is what comes out instead.
“I didn’t feel like I needed to.”
“Did you not hear what he was saying about you, Leigh?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“I heard it, and I didn’t give a shit. If you haven’t noticed, Trent hasn’t really been a ray of sunshine over the last few years.” Her voice is so soft that it makes me wonder how many times she’s had to sit through Trent trying to tear her down. “I’m used to it.”
“Leigh,” I groan, inching closer so our bodies are almost flush, “I love you. That’s why I did it. That’s why I hit him. He was talking shit about you, and I can’t handle it. No one is going to talk shit on my girl without dealing with me—brother or not.”
The confession lifts my spirit a bit. Just telling her the truth is almost freeing for a man like me. Because normally, when I hit someone in the mouth, it’s because I was trained to do so.
I’m trained to put on a show and make money for my sponsors. That usually means there’s no hard feelings when I get the first punch in. But, with my brother, there were feelings seeping from my pores when I hit him.
I hit Trent because he deserved it, not because I had to do it to survive.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice is so soft I barely hear her words. She sounds so broken and lost. I just want to take away her hurt.
“I want you,” I whisper as I gently take her face in the palms of my hands and urge her to look at me.
I search her eyes for a sign she heard me, but there isn’t anything there but rapidly gathering pools of tears.
“Please, baby. Show me something. Show me anger. Show me pain. Show me love. Don’t close up. Don’t let those walls surround you again, because I’m not sure I have the strength to break them down for a second time,” I plead with her.
I watch as her lashes lower, loosing twin tears that roll down her cheeks. I lean forward and kiss them away. When she doesn’t flinch, I relax a little.
Then she breaks my world.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispers.
Her eyes open, and she stares into my soul, driving her words deep into my heart where they explode and shred me from the inside.
“Leigh, please.” I’m desperate. “I can’t lose you again. I need you. I want you. I can’t do this without you. You’re all I have left, and all I want from now on. I don’t want to be without you for a second, for a day, for a month, for any matter of time. I want you where you belong, with me. I’m sorry I hit Trent! I’m sorry about the media coverage.”
“I just—” She hiccups between cries. “I need time. I need to go home.”
“Baby, you are home. This has always been our home,” I urge.
“This stopped being my home ten years ago. The day I closed this place up and bought a new house is the day it stopped being my home. The day you left me here alone is the day this place stopped being your home.”
“This is my home,” I confirm.
“No.” She gives me a sad smile as she gently wraps her hands around my wrists and pushes them away. I let them fall. “It’s not. You live in California. You probably live in an expensive neighborhood with celebrities for neighbors, a maid who cleans up after you, and a butler who answers your front door.” The step she takes backward rips open a canyon-sized space between us. “This isn’t either of our home. This is a sad, retired memory of what we once had and all the heartache that came with it. This place is a blood bath waiting to happen.”
Her words knock me off balance. Her implying everything we’ve shared in life was nothing more than a story with an unhappy ending takes every ounce of courage and pride out of me. Her words make me feel like I’m nothing but a guy who made bad decisions and can’t take them back.
“I won’t give up on us. I’ll wait, Leigh. I won’t leave you until I know you don’t want me anymore. I made you a promise, and if time is what you need, I’ll accept that. But I won’t stop loving you. I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t stop wanting you.”
She gives me a sad smile that I hope to never see again and reaches for the doorknob.
“I need a few days to figure shit out,” she says.
“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” I reply.
She turns away from me, and I watch her beautiful backside sway itself out the front door once again.
“Leigh,” I call out, and she pauses but doesn’t turn. “I love you.”
She doesn’t respond.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ryleigh
I’m not angry with him anymore. I’m not blaming him for what happened with the reporters. What I’m doing is worse than any of that—I’m sulking. I’m miserable and embarrassed by the temper tantrum I threw. Too bad there’s no card at the local pharmacy that reads, “I’m sorry for being a whiny, thirty-one-year-old bitch.” If one exists, I would’ve bought a hundred of them by now.
Honestly, I don’t know what came over me back in the apartment. How I acted with Rook wasn’t normal for me. The way I felt, the way I spoke to him—it was a side of me I’ve never met before. I’m not sure what to make of it.
I’d like to think it was only a bad moment where shit got out of hand. But, I’ve noticed myself getting a little more emotional every day. It’s like I can’t control myself anymore. The stress is getting to me.
I went through mood swings like crazy last year when Trent was battling his addictions. I would be up one minute and down another. Exhausting doesn’t even begin to cover what I went through with him. It was torture at its finest. And, despite our latest argument, he seems to be good and sober lately. Thank God.
“Are these seats taken?” a female voice asks.
Glancing up from my inventory boo
k, I smile when I see Callie’s auburn curls bouncing behind her.
“Hey.” I push away my work.
“The rest of the girls are on their way, but I figured I’d get here early enough to warn you.” Callie laughs.
“Warn me?”
“About Shay.” She chuckles again. “She’s hell bent on making you and Trent get over this crap with Rook. My guess is she’s going to harass both of you until you make peace. So, be ready.”
“I’m never not ready.” I joke. “What are you in the mood for? Beer? Wine? Whiskey?”
“Tonight’s a beer night,” she confirms.
I grab Callie a bottle of Miller Light, her usual drink, and crack open the top for her. When I place it on the bar, she’s staring at me with one of those I-know-a-secret faces.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I laugh under her gaze.
“Because,” she props up her chin on her hand, “you seem different.”
“Different?”
“Yeah. Different, but in a good way.”
Looking down, I scan over the same outfit I’ve been wearing to work for years. A simple black tank top and jean shorts, my favorite bar towel tucked in the back pocket, and a pair of black-and-pink Nike sneakers.
A loud laugh rips from Callie’s throat as she clutches her stomach. “Not your outfit, ass! You look different—your face, your smile, your eyes. You look like you should be happy, but you’re not,” she says with a soft tone.
Blowing out a breath, I nod in agreement. “I am happy, but only when I’m with him.”
“With Rook?”
“Yeah. He makes me happy, Cal.” A sad smile takes over. “But, I think I ruined it.”
“Ruined it? What do you mean?”
“You saw the news, right?”
She takes a pull from her bottle and then tilts her head to the side. “All that paparazzi shit? The news?”
“Yeah. I freaked out on him. Then, I freaked out again when Trent came barging in here a couple of days ago.”
“Was it his fault? The media finding out where he is I mean.” Callie asks without a trace of judgment in her voice.
“Not really,” I admit. Thanks to Sarah, I can’t hide from my own responsibility for creating this mess.
“Then why freak out on him? He didn’t sell those stories to the media. I’m assuming you know who did, otherwise you wouldn’t be blaming yourself for everything.”
This is why Callie is my best friend. She knows how to ask me things in a way that make it seem completely reasonable and totally conversational.
“It was Susan who sold the stories.”
“Fucking Susan, I should have known,” she mutters. “Why are exes all the same? They can never keep their noses out of where they don’t belong. Did you beat her ass?”
“No. And I don’t plan to. If I start beating her ass, I won’t stop.”
Callie takes another drink, eyeing me with suspicion as she sets it down. “So, back to Rook; are you going to tell him how you feel?”
“Tell him how I feel?” Now it’s my turn to laugh, but where Callie’s was light and full of mirth, mine is nothing but bitter self-loathing. “How the hell do I even fix this? How do I tell him I’m absolutely insane because I’m in lo—”
As I stop mid-word, Callie is flying off her stool and sprinting around the bar. When she rounds the corner, her tiny arms wrap around my waist while she squeals in delight.
“Ryleigh, I’m so happy for you!” Her voice is loud enough to shatter glass and has the few people willing to brave the reporters outside turning toward us. “You finally found your guy! When can I meet him formally? When can we go on double dates? Can we go see him now?”
She fires off questions left and right, causing my head to spin in circles.
“Cal.” I hold my hand out to stop her.
She stares at me with an innocent expression, shrugging. “What? I’m just excited for you! Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to find someone? You’re one of my best friends, Ryleigh. I’ve always wanted to see you happy.”
I watch Callie as she speaks genuinely about our friendship, and it warms my heart. I know without a shadow of a doubt; she means every word she’s saying. She is one of the few people in my life who have never taken me for granted. Everyone else may have expected me to do things for them once in a while, but not Callie.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“You don’t have to thank me! I know the guys drive you nuts sometimes, but everyone, including myself, always have your back. And, now that you’re in love with Rook, we have his back too,” she pauses. “We are family, Ryleigh—one big, crazy, family.”
I smile softly. I needed to hear exactly what she said. There’s only one problem with her declaration.
“You’ll never get to meet Rook now.” Saying the words causes my insides to twist.
“Why not? You love him, don’t you?”
“I screwed it up, Callie.” I find myself getting irritated at myself for letting him go. “I told him to walk away, and that’s what I did—walked away. He’ll never come back again, and I won’t let him. I’m not built to be in relationships. I should have realized it ten years ago—I’m fucked up.”
Callie is quiet as I finish my rant, and I don’t blame her. What I just did was lash out about the situation when I should be apologizing—to her, to Rook, to everyone who’s had to deal with my issues.
“You’re hurting.” Her softly spoken words slip from lips, planting themselves in my ears. “I understand what you’re going through.”
I scoff. “How could you possibly understand, Callie? You have a life—a family, a daughter, a fiancé. You don’t know what it’s like to push people away even if you don’t want to.”
A warm hand wraps itself around my wrist, and when I look up, Callie is staring at me with tears in her eyes. Seeing this emotion come from her almost brings on tears of my own because not only does my best friend see how badly I’m hurting inside, she cares.
“I understand more than you know. I know you think your saving yourself and Rook from a bundle of heartache, but you’re not. The only thing you’re doing by not telling him how you feel is hurting both of you more than is necessary. So, tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”
“It’s complicated,” I argue, pulling away from her embrace.
“It’s not that complicated. Do you love him?”
I pause, staring at her as if she’s in another dimension.
“You’re not on a game show,” she says. “It’s a yes or no answer.”
I filter through the memories of us, replaying the good and the bad. But the more I rerun our past and us in the present, Rook and I become clear.
The answer is yes without a doubt.
I have always loved him.
I never stopped loving him.
We belong together.
Having a pity party because of a few bad arguments isn’t a reason to let him go without even trying. He’s a fighter and so am I. Together, we can overcome the odds and win the title fight.
We can conquer, together.
We can overcome, together.
We can find perseverance, together.
“I-I have to go, Cal,” I stutter, shifting from her grasp.
I need to see him. I need to make this right if it’s the last thing I do.
“Go get him, Ry!” Callie calls as I disappear into the hallway leading to the stairs, which I take three at time.
I’m almost desperate in my need to put this all behind us. I know if I don’t, I’ll regret it again.
I’ll regret not fighting for him.
I’ll regret letting him go.
I’ll regret not giving him a chance.
As I hit the platform in front of the door, I don’t hesitate. I raise my fist and knock. When he doesn’t immediately open the door, I knock again, harder.
You can do this, Ryleigh.
Go in there and apologize.
Tell him you didn’t need time, you only needed him.
Tell him you were wrong.
Apologize and beg him to make love to you again.
The wooden door opens. When the silhouette of a woman comes to life in front my eyes, my mouth gapes open in shock.
“May I help you?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rook
“Who the fuck are you?” I hear from the doorway.
Jumping from my seat at the dining room table, I push past Josie and the detective standing in my way. I need to get to the door before shit hits the fan.
“Let me in! I’m here to see Rook!” Leigh snaps at Mark’s lawyer. When I round the small corner from the kitchen to the living room, Leigh comes into view and it’s as if I can finally breathe again. She’s glaring at Mrs. Holt with a fiery rage in her eyes that makes my dick twitch. She’s so hot.
Sprinting across the room in record time, I make it to Leigh before things get any worse.
“Let her in, Mrs. Holt.” I order.
Leigh peeks around the lawyer, the tension seeming to leave her body once she sets eyes on me. “What’s going on?” she demands, slicing a sideways look at Mrs. Holt.
“I’ll explain everything. Just come in.”
She takes my offer, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. I watch as she takes in the slew of people occupying our apartment. Her face morphs from confusion to anger and then she turns to me for answers.
“Mark is pleading guilty to Lauren’s murder.” I beam, excited.
Where I expect Leigh to be happy for me, she looks disappointed instead.
“Why? How? I don’t understand,” she babbles.
I move slowly, reaching for her hand with the utmost caution in case she still hates me. When her smooth skin touches mine, I groan quietly. I don’t think my heart could have taken it if she pulled away from me.
“I didn’t understand either. But come and sit. You’re a part of my life, and I want you to hear everything said in this room. We’ll go back so you can catch up.” I smile softly, hoping to God she won’t refuse my offer—either of them. After a second, the corner of her mouth lifts, and she lets me lead her into the kitchen.