Living With Doubt (The Regret Series Book 2)

by Riann C. Miller

  I’m surprised by his confession of not wanting a wife. He seems like the type to strive for the fairytale ending. Maybe I’ve read Jake wrong from day one because he strikes me as someone who’d love to show off the fancy, underdressed, overdone woman hanging off his arm.

  “Good.” It’s all I can muster as I walk over to the package Morgan left on the table. There’s no return address. I frown and grab a knife to unseal the edges. Once the box pops open I reach inside and pick up the small piece of paper. Once I have it close to my face, my eyes start to water.

  “Lacey? What’s wrong?”

  I shove the picture back into the box and take off to my room before Jake Girard has the chance to discover a past I don’t ever plan to talk about.

  10

  Jake

  I worked out for over half the day just to ebb away the boredom. I lost count of the number of times a woman came over and tried her hardest to gain my attention. This happens a lot when I go to a public gym. What surprised me was the fact not even one of those women sparked an interest, or even piqued my curiosity. Apparently, my dick—and maybe even my head—wants no one other than Lacey, and that pisses me off. I love my carefree life. I enjoy not having to answer to anyone. Now it seems like I’m ready to think about something…more, and the woman I want acts like she hates me. At the very least, she doesn’t publically want me. Instead, she’s trying to make me her dirty little secret. While I’m down with the dirty part, I’m not sure what I think about her acting ashamed of being with me.

  Right now, though, I’m going to push my own thoughts to the back burner and attempt to know why a box sitting on her table caused her face to turn ghostly white seconds before she ran out of the room.

  In less than ten steps, I’m standing outside of the door she slammed shut. “Lacey.” I knock once before I turn the knob, finding it unlocked.

  I push the door open, only to see her standing in front of a window. My eyes quickly take in the small room lined with brick walls. A small double bed, a chair and a nightstand take up most of the available space. That box, the one that sent her running, is nowhere to be seen.

  “Lacey?” I repeat, stepping into the room. “Are you okay?” I try again when she doesn’t say anything. I step closer, softly placing my hand on her shoulder.

  She tenses, but she doesn’t shrug off my lame attempt to touch her. To confirm she’s okay.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I already know the answer she’s going to give me, but I desperately want to be wrong. “My mom always told me to get it out. If nothing else, you’ll feel better afterward, and what better person to go to about your feelings than someone you won’t have to see all the time?” I sigh when she makes no attempt to face me or acknowledge my comment. “I do have some experience with women,” I add seconds before she finally turns to face me. I smile, hoping to lighten the mood, but the moment I see her tear-stricken face, my stomach tightens almost to the point of pain.

  “Some things are better left in the past, Girard.”

  I sit on the bed, pulling her onto my lap. “You’re absolutely correct, Davis, but sometimes, even when we don’t want it to, our past has a way of sneaking into our future.”

  I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I let my past predict my future. I have for the last nine years. I don’t even think I knew I was doing it, it just happened.”

  I’ve allowed Alicia’s deceit to control me far longer than I realized. It’s so fucking easy to get caught up in the lifestyle that comes with playing professional ball. Traveling from one city to the next. Having available women ready to agree to do anything if it means they caught my attention, even for a few hours. The freedom of coming and going without the concern of someone waiting at home, but I’m not truly happy with this lifestyle. I was. In the not so distant past, I was, but in the blink of an eye, it feels like my whole world has changed, and it seems to have everything to do with the woman sitting in my lap.

  “Let it go. Whatever is bothering you, let it go,” I beg. I hate seeing her like this. Broken and hurt. “What happened to that hothead I’m used to seeing?”

  The corners of her mouth slowly turn up with a small smile.

  “Hopefully you just learned how much I hate gifts?”

  I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender. “No gifts, I got it.”

  “You want to tell me why you’re here?” She tilts her head back, gracing me with the view of those beautiful blue eyes.

  My lips quirk up into a smile. “I told you already. My dick misses you. I tried to tell him you aren’t interested in a repeat, but he wasn’t convinced.”

  “You’re seriously talking about your dick as though it’s a person? I thought only horny teenagers did shit like that?” She raises an eyebrow before pushing herself off my lap.

  “What can I say, around you that’s exactly how I feel.” I might be smirking, but I’m not joking. All I have to do is think about her and I’m rock hard. “I’ve already agreed to be your dirty little secret, so what’s the big deal? I’m going to be in town for…a few more days. A week or so tops, so I don’t really see what the problem is.”

  Her eyes dart around the room before finally stopping on me. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I counter. “We’ve already been together, and it’s not like I’m asking you to skip work or even fucking date me.” I attempt to keep the frustration out of my voice, but this woman is starting to drive me crazy.

  “Look, it’s not you, it’s me—” She stops talking when I fall back onto her bed in laughter. I end up laughing so hard I have to wipe my eyes.

  “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to say that? Shit, the irony here is classic.”

  “I’m serious, Girard.”

  “So am I, Davis.” I hate it when she calls me Girard. I want to be more than just a football player in her eyes.

  “You’re just not my type,” she adds in a lame attempt to prove some point about us not being together.

  “I’m not asking to marry you, Davis. I just want to fuck your brains out for a few days before I fly back to my side of the country.”

  She chews on her bottom lip, and it appears she’s thinking over my request.

  I’m thirty years old, and I’ve only had one monogamous relationship, one that failed miserably, but right now, I’m willing to do or say anything to see if whatever the fuck this is I’m feeling will pass. If not, I might head back west just as fucked up as I did when things ended with Alicia, because I want Lacey a hell of a lot more—or at least it feels that way.

  “You’re really leaving in the next week?”

  “Yes,” I answer, knowing she’s confirming I won’t be around long enough for her to become attached. Well, tough fucking luck. There’s a strong possibility I’m already attached to her, which means, I need to figure out if I have what it takes to woo a woman. Although, Lacey strikes me as someone who could easily get pissed off by my attempts to make her fall for me.

  “Relax, Davis.” I smirk, knowing she hates to be told that. “And let me make you feel good.”

  Tension starts to drain from her shoulders as relief from my lie sets in.

  “I think it’s time I show you how much I’ve missed you.”

  She sighs heavily, pretending to be annoyed with me, but I can tell it’s exactly that. An act. Because her blue eyes darken with desire as I tug on her arm.

  “You really are a narcissistic man,” she says with a scoff, but instead of arguing with her, I pull on the back of her neck and capture her mouth with mine. My tongue passionately moves against hers. The desire I feel for this woman dominates my thoughts. My movements become urgent and sloppy. I lift her shirt until she tilts back long enough for me to get it over her head, and then her mouth is back on mine. I unclasp her bra, tug it down, and groan when my hand cups one of her breasts.

  “I want you,” she mumbles, and I immediately push myself to my feet, taking her with me.

&n
bsp; I unbutton my pants and dig out a condom while she pulls her dress pants down her legs. Without saying a word, I lift her up, press her back against the brick wall, and bury myself deep inside her.

  “Oh shit,” she whimpers next to my ear as I desperately drive in and out of her hot body.

  My lips capture hers again, and a frenzy of emotions play in my head. I told myself I could fuck this woman out of my system, but the very opposite is happening. Every time I sink my dick inside her, I feel like a drug addict getting another fix.

  I want more.

  I need more.

  I pull my mouth away and begin to nip at her neck. A soft humming noise rattles from her throat as she clings to my body. Her sweet smell starts to assault my senses. My dick already feels like I could blow at any moment, but just like a junkie, I don’t want my high to end. I move my head back enough to gaze into her eyes. Tentatively, I place a soft kiss on her lips. She gasps while her fingers dig into my shoulders. I can feel her tightening around me seconds before she comes apart in my arms. I’m still not ready to come. I’m not ready for her to send me packing, but she runs her fingernails down my arms and tilts her hips up just enough that I’m growling out my release long before I’m ready.

  I push my face into her neck, breathing her in once more, before I softly place her feet back down on the floor. I expect her to start dressing, but she surprises me by dropping onto her bed without a stitch of clothing on. I glance around the room until I find a box of tissues. I remove the condom and drop it in the trash can before joining her on the bed.

  She cracks open an eye when she feels the bed dip, but she doesn’t say anything. I resist the urge to reach out to touch her. To pull her tightly against me, knowing if I do, she’ll send me out the door.

  “How do you usually spend your time? When you’re not playing football?”

  I’m pleasantly surprised at her line of questioning. I want to get to know her better, but it seems like so many topics are off limits. For now, I’ll talk about myself as long as it means we’re talking.

  “Well, I’m used to weather that isn’t as cold as a witch’s tit for starters.” I smirk when she shakes her head. “I like to finish the shit that needs to be done on my house before spring. Arizona gets hot quickly, and before you know it, training camps are around the corner.”

  “You do repairs on your own house?”

  “Yeah, unless it’s during the season. Then it’s just a matter of whether it can wait or if it needs fixing immediately.”

  “I just figured you’d pay someone.” Her voice is soft and almost sleepy.

  “I’m not going to pay someone to do something I can fix myself.”

  She cracks a smile.

  “I also spend time in California with my mom and kid sister.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “What about you? Do you see your family often?”

  She blinks before shaking her head. “I grew up in a town a few hours from here, but I don’t see my parents as often as I should.”

  “Why?” I wish I could see Mom and Bridgett more. If it weren’t for my sudden addiction to this woman, I’d be in San Diego with them now.

  “Because not everyone grows up like the Brady Bunch. Instead of liking my three older sisters, I’m usually one bad day away from shooting one of them with Dad’s shotgun.”

  “I bet your dad kept that gun locked up.” I chuckle, and it brings a grin to her face.

  “Dad was desperate for a boy. I think if Morgan had been a boy, then my parents wouldn’t have had me or Jena.” Her nose scrunches. “My dad would love you. He’s a big baseball fan, although he loves just about any sport. He tried his hardest to get one of us to play a fucking sport, any sport, he didn’t care, but it appears none of us are the least bit athletically inclined.”

  “Shit, that sounds like some kind of payback,” I admit, knowing how much it would suck to have four kids and not have a single one of them want to toss a ball around. “My dad had me out in the front yard batting off a tee by the time I was two.”

  “But you’re a football player,” she states, sounding confused.

  “When I was a kid, I loved playing every sport my dad liked. I didn’t care what it was.”

  “And you ended up a football player.”

  I shake my head. “I had the size to play it, and it was the last sport my dad and I played together before he died.”

  “Oh, God. Jake, I’m so sorry.”

  I hate talking about my dad, but I also feel guilty that I don’t. He was a great man who honored his country until the day he took his last breath. If he hadn’t died, my mom never would’ve met Bridgett’s dad. And a world without my sister seems impossible. Therefore, I don’t often talk about the man I vaguely remember but never forget.

  “Thank you, it was a long time ago.”

  “I love my parents. I really do, it’s just…I grew up in a dysfunctional household. My parents were always working. I was the youngest, which means I either had all the shit jobs to take care of, or I had to figure out how to hang with the big girls.” She shrugs. “I quickly mastered the ability to act like a bitch.”

  The more I’m around her, the more I’m positive her bitchy personality is more of a front; otherwise, I don’t think she’d be lying here naked with me talking about her family. The person she shows the world would’ve kicked my ass out the second my dick slid out of her.

  Her eyes slowly close. Seconds later, her breathing evens out. I lie next to her for close to a half an hour before sleep starts to take hold of me, but instead of giving in, I force myself to get up. I pull a blanket off the back of her chair and walk back over to the bed.

  “There’s something about you. Something I can’t seem to make myself walk away from,” I whisper as I place a kiss next to her mouth. I grab my clothing and quickly dress. Before I leave, I pull out my cell and snap a picture. Something I’m sure I’ll have to look at the next time she’s chewing my ass out. One that will hopefully remind me that no matter what she says or how she acts, she’s human. Tonight was proof of that, and it only sparked the need that was already in full bloom for this crazy woman.

  I have no idea if I can make something with Lacey work. I’m even more confused on how life with anyone is possible—especially if you live as far apart as we do—but I’m done pretending I don’t want her.

  The time has come to pull out all the stops and make this woman fall for me. That’s my one and only chance of keeping her. I hope like hell if I get my wish, I still feel the same way I do right now—breaking this woman is the very last thing I want to do.

  11

  Lacey

  My eyes slowly open from an impossible dream that involved Jake. We were together, and we were happy. I watched as he climbed a stupid ladder and hung Christmas lights on a house…our house. For a moment, at least in my dream, I felt happy, content, loved…but it was just a dream. Instead, I woke up naked, sleeping on top of my bedspread with my old blanket of Grandma Paul’s lying on top of me. I remember Jake fucking me against the wall and then…

  There’s something about you. Something I can’t seem to make myself walk away from.

  I’m not sure where that thought came from. All I remember is my body was already in shut-down mode—therefore, I don’t remember much after I laid down.

  I’m glad he didn’t stay. I’m a little shocked he didn’t, but this is for the best. Sex with Jake is amazing. So amazing I could see myself becoming attached—if I haven’t already—and that’s the last thing I need. I don’t even want a man in my life. Maybe one day, when I finally get my shit together. When I have my student loans paid off, and I’m living in an apartment that doesn’t require six locks on the door just to feel safe. But that time is not now, and that man is not Jake Girard—no matter how much my body wishes that weren’t the case.

  I force my brain to start functioning as I go through my morning routine. I’m running later than normal by the time I make it into the kitchen
for my morning coffee.

  “Dammit,” I groan to myself.

  Morgan isn’t here. In the past month, I’ve grown used to Morgan starting the coffee. I glance at my watch. If I fix some now, I’ll be late. I’m already pushing it as it is. I forgo my much-needed caffeine and dart out the door.

  The mood on the subway felt lighter today, then again, it’s Friday, and the start of the weekend usually causes people to act a little nicer.

  By the time I arrive at my firm, I pause and look for Caleb, but then it dawns on me—he has court today. I pull out my phone and send him a text on the way up to my floor.

  Me: Good luck today

  By the time I get to my office, I’m already exhausted and ready for the day to be over, but as luck would have it, I have a full day of crappy jobs ahead of me.

  Caleb: Thanks. Drinks tonight?

  * * *

  Me: Sure. I’ll meet you at TDP by 6

  * * *

  Caleb: Sounds good

  I place my phone in my desk before I check my email, knowing today can’t end fast enough.

  I feel like a shitty friend. By the time I left my office, my eyes hurt from reading the files that were sent to me for review. All I could think about was going home, to the point I almost forgot I had agreed to meet Caleb.

  “About time you finally got here. I’m already on my third beer,” Caleb jokes as he leans forward and kisses my cheek. I don’t know why he does that, but he has from the day I decided we were going to be friends.

  “I’ll catch up, don’t worry.” Emotionally drained, I slide into the booth across from him.

  “What’s with the bag?”

  Oh, shit.

  I had shoved my overnight bag from the other night under my desk so Caleb wouldn’t see it. I only grabbed it tonight because one: I need to get my clothing washed, and two: I forgot I was going to see him.