Trick You: A Brother's Best Friend Romance (Rebel Ink Book 2)

by Tracy Lorraine

  “No. This is about him and his own demons. Demons you help push away.”

  I sob. “I- I didn’t even know. He didn’t tell—”

  “He would have. He just didn’t want to ruin what you thought of him.”

  “Why would that ruin anything? I don’t care about any of that. It’s what’s inside that matters, what I’ve fallen—” Thankfully, the doorbell rings, cutting off my admission.

  Spike jumps up and goes running.

  “I never would have put you two together in a million years,” my brother muses, “but I’ve got to be honest. I think you’re kind of perfect together.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, a smile pulling at my lips.

  “Yeah. You’re kind of the yin to his yang.”

  “Aw, Zach. Biff making you all romantic?”

  “Something like that,” he mutters, standing as we’re re-joined by Spike and whoever Doc is.

  29

  Carter

  Voices I recognise but can’t place fill my ears. Light that feels as bright as the sun burns at my eyes despite the fact that they’re closed. Everything hurts. Every-fucking-thing.

  What hap—fuck.

  Memories hit me almost as hard as he did. Logan drunk and spewing my fucking secrets to Danni. The text. The fight. My muscles tense as I remember being in that ring. I’ve never been worried about fighting, about whether or not I’d get to walk away after, but last night was the closet I’ve come to it. I was out of practice and slower than I’d like. But Ace? He’s was anything but slow.

  His first punch to my ribs ripped the air from my lungs, and I knew it was going to be one hell of a fight from the off.

  Most of my memory of it is a blur. I don’t even remember who won. From the pain radiating through my body, I’m guessing it wasn’t me.

  “Get him to take two of these when he wakes. He can have two more every four hours. If they don’t help, call me. If he gets worse, call me.”

  That voice. I know that voice.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t be taking him to hospital right now?” I know that voice, too. It’s soft, caring, and sexy as hell. My aches and pains are forgotten for the briefest moment as I focus on it and the sensation it sparks up in my body.

  Danni. She’s here. Wherever the fuck here is.

  “No. Other than the broken ribs, it’s nothing more than cuts and bruises. He’ll be just fine with a little TLC.”

  TLC, now that sounds like a fucking good idea. I open my mouth to agree, but nothing comes out. Well, only a moan.

  “Carter?” In a heartbeat, she’s at my side. The warmth of her hand burns into mine as her other gently lands on my cheek. “Are you awake?”

  “Y—” I fight to swallow, my throat feeling like a fucking desert.

  “Wait.” The sound of her moving fills my ears before a straw is pressed against my lips. “Drink,” she demands, and I can’t help but smile at her tone.

  I do as I’m told, and thankfully it makes me feel a little more human.

  “Can you open your eyes?”

  I pause. I want to, I really fucking want to see her. To see the look in her eyes. My need to know if she’s here because she feels like she should be after what she’s discovered, or if it’s because she wants to be. I’m terrified it’s the former, but what if she does care? What if I’m not good enough for her either?

  I suck in a breath and crack my eyes open. I thought it was painful just being awake, but as the electric light from above pours in, I can’t help but groan.

  “Turn the light out,” Danni says to someone before the softer glow from the beside lamp illuminates the room.

  The first person I see is Spike. And he looks fucking furious.

  Jesus.

  Turning my head slightly, I find her.

  The second our eyes connect, I know I had no reason to be scared. The concern, the fear, the anger within them tells me everything I need to know. She didn’t come to me tonight out of pity. It was because she wanted to. Needed to.

  “Dan,” I whisper, the lump in my throat getting the better of me and cutting off any other words. Since the first time I looked at her, she’s had walls up. They were so bloody obvious, and I thought higher than I’d be able to scale. But suddenly they’re gone. There’s nothing clouding her eyes as she stares at me.

  “Fucking hell, Carter. I thought you were dead.” She takes both of my hands and squeezes gently. I can only imagine the state of my knuckles right now, despite them being wrapped. Her eyes fill with tears, although none fall. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I’m right here, doll. I’m okay.”

  A scoff comes from the other side of the room, but I don’t look to him. I already know I’m in for a Spike ear-bashing. He’s warned me enough about fighting again, and I promised him I wouldn’t. But look at me now. One word from fucking Logan and I walked straight into that fucking ring without a second thought.

  “I’m not going to ask you why, because I think I get it. But I need you to promise me something.” I nod—it’s all I’m capable of right now. “Next time you need to blow off steam, use me,” Danni begs.

  “Fucking hell.” Spike walks from the room, pulling the door to behind him, but he doesn’t leave the flat.

  I ignore her previous comment, knowing that if I think about that offer too much then I’ll want something I’m not capable of right now.

  “He’s mad.”

  “We all are, Carter. Do you have any idea how it felt running into that warehouse, not knowing what we were going to find?”

  My lips part, but no words come out, because as much as I can imagine, I’ve no clue.

  “Think about the person you care most about in the world. Now, imagine they’re in danger and there’s nothing you can do to help.” I nod, squeezing her hand, hoping she knows it’s my way of telling her that she’s the one I care about most without actually saying the words. “A-and now times that by about a million.” Her voice cracks, and it physically hurts, knowing that I caused her pain. Made her feel as useless as I do on a daily basis.

  “I’m sorry. How did you find me?”

  “You left your phone at Spike’s. We found the message with the address.”

  I nod, absorbing her words. I was so desperate to escape reality that I didn’t even notice I’d left it. “About what Logan said. I—” Her warm fingers press against my lips, cutting off my words.

  “Not now, Carter. You need to rest. We’ve got plenty of time to talk about that.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I don’t care about what he said. None of that matters. That isn’t what makes you. What’s in here is what makes you.” She presses her hand gently to my chest, right above my heart. “And I think that’s pretty incredible, so…” She trails off, slowly leaning forward. “As long as you promise to never run off like that again, then I think you might be stuck with me.” Her lips brush against mine as she says the words, and my heart swells.

  “For real?”

  “Yes.” She kisses me gently, but when I try to deepen it to make it what I really need, she pulls back. I groan, and she laughs. “Doc said you had to rest, not get ideas.”

  “Doll, you’re in bed with me. I’ll always have ideas.”

  “I’m not in bed with you, Carter. I’m sitting on the edge. Now, you’re going to take these painkillers and then you’re going back to sleep.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  I nod as she pops two pills from the pack beside her and helps me to sit a little to take them. My ribs scream at my movement, but it’s not something I’ve not dealt with before. A broken rib or two kinda comes with the territory of cage fighting.

  Once I’m settled, she stands from the bed, but not before I catch her fingers in mine.

  “Don’t leave.”

  “I’ll just be out there, speaking to the others. Call if you need me.”

  “I always need you.” Conflict flitters through her eyes.

 
“I’ll be right outside the door.” She drops a kiss to my forehead and pulls her hand from mine. It doesn’t take all that much effort, because I’m weak as fuck.

  I shut my eyes the second she pulls the door closed behind her, and, after listening to their hushed voices for a few seconds, I drift back off to sleep.

  The next time I come to, the room is in darkness and the pain in my body is a little bit less than before, but it’s not the most notable thing. That’s the small body curled up beside me.

  Lifting my hand, I gently brush a lock of hair from her cheek and push it behind her ear. She’s so fucking beautiful, and with her eyes closed, I no longer see the fear I put there tonight. I fucking hate myself for it. I should have been stronger than to go running back to my old ways the second Logan opened his fucking mouth. I should have trusted her to stand by me, to fight for me, even if she had no clue what she was fighting for. I’ve asked her to trust me time and again, yet I didn’t give her the same courtesy.

  “Fuck,” I bark, irritated with my actions.

  Her eyes fly open and connect with mine.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Are you okay?” She pulls herself up so she’s looming over me, her eyes flitting around my face, looking for more injuries.

  “I’m fine. Lie back down.”

  “Do you need more painkillers? A drink? Something to eat?”

  “Do you know what I really need?”

  “If you even think about saying sex, Carter, then I’m gonna—”

  “Lie with me. Just lie with me.” I hold my arm out for her and gesture for her to settle against my side.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” She hesitates.

  “It’s the other side that’s broken. Please, doll. I need you.”

  “Fucking hell, Carter. The second it gets too much, tell me and I’ll move.”

  “Of course,” I lie. I don’t give a shit how much it hurts, as long as she’s in my arms.

  She rests her head on my chest and I fight not to react when my entire upper body burns with pain. It’s worth it. She’s worth it.

  I drop my nose into her hair and breathe her in. “I’m so sorry. It was—”

  “Just rest.”

  “No, I need to get this out. I need to explain.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Do as you’re told, doll,” I say with a laugh.

  She nods against me, making my breath catch, but she says no more.

  “I was wrong to do that yesterday. Running and blanking everything out with someone else’s fists is just how I’ve always dealt with it.” I blow out a breath as I replay what Logan said in my head. “Everything he said was true. Well, no, that’s a lie. He over-exaggerated. I can read. I can write. It’s just… it’s just really fucking hard. It’s why I draw. It’s so much easier to get across what I’m trying to say with images than it is with words.” She traces over the ink on my chest as I speak. She trails the mountain tops that I’ve spent my life trying to climb and continues onto the broken and battered heart.

  “I get it,” she whispers, but I don’t let her words stop me explaining more.

  “My parents have high expectations. They wanted us both to be the most intellectual kids ever born. Logan fell into that role easily. Even in the early days he was a level above his reading age. He could write his own name, hell he could write mine better than I could.

  “I was always looked at as the slow one. The stupid one. It didn’t matter that I was better than Logan at other stuff, because none of that mattered. I wasn’t what my parents classed as intelligent, and that was that. I endured years of extra classes, special tuition, everything they found that might help me. ‘Cure’ me. They refused to accept that there was an actual reason why I couldn’t do these things. They spared no expense, as they liked to remind me often, yet I was still too stupid to understand.

  “It was exhausting. I constantly felt like a failure while I got to watch Logan do everything I couldn’t and lap up all the love and acceptance from our parents.

  “When everyone left me alone, I discovered that I did have a use for the pen and paper they were always shoving under my nose. I started drawing when I was about six, I think. I found it was the perfect way to get my feelings out without having to actually write, or even think about, the words.

  “I drew all sorts. Whatever popped into my head. But I kept everything hidden under my bed in a box. I was a constant disappointment, so I had no reason not to believe they’d be disappointed in them too.”

  “Carter,” she breathes. She tilts her head as if she wants to look up at me, but I can’t deal with looking into her eyes right now.

  “Don’t,” I demand as softly as possible.

  If she looks at me, then she’ll see the tears that are threatening to escape, and the last thing I need right now is her pity. Or worse, for her to think I’m weak.

  She stops moving the second she hears my voice and thankfully does as I ask. Her fingers continue following the lines of my ink, most of which has been put on my body by her brother.

  “I was lucky, I found a job not long after I finished school and was able to rent this really shitty room in a house share and live my own life. But my parents’ judgement was never far away, and Logan’s bragging at what he was achieving wasn’t that far behind either. He sailed through his A-levels and was accepted into Oxford. Fucking Oxford,” I repeat with a laugh. “Our parents had never been prouder as they watched their boy go to one of the finest universities this country has to offer. And when people asked about me, do you know what they said?” I don’t allow her time to answer, because of course she has no idea. “They told them that I’ve gone travelling to ‘find myself’. They were too ashamed to admit I’d moved out and got a job.” I sigh, thinking back to how much that all hurt. “I’m pretty sure that had I not been given a chance at the studio, then I wouldn’t be here now. The only other thing I had in my life was anger and fighting. I’ve no doubt that would have killed me by now.”

  The silence that follows those words is heavy, but I won’t take them back. It’s true.

  “Well, I’m grateful for whoever it was that gave you that chance.”

  “You know him,” I whisper, suddenly feeling tired again after such an emotional rehash of my past.

  “Oh?”

  “D. He’s got a thing for broken teenagers.” I laugh. “He helped create Titch. I was a scrawny teenager on the brink of destruction. He’s the father I never really had.” I don’t register her response, because I fall back to sleep.

  30

  Danni

  I lie there for the longest time, thinking over what Carter just told me. My heart breaks for the boy who was rejected over and over again by his family. No child deserves that.

  One thing I do know: his parents made a massive mistake, because he’s no failure. He’s incredible. So what, he didn’t follow his brother to Oxford. He’s made a very good career out of a talent that most people could only wish for.

  I’m once again reminded of how incredible my own family is. Guilt cripples me that I’ve not admitted to them what happened in Vegas. I’ve not even introduced them to Carter as my boyfriend, let alone anything else. How must that make him feel?

  Fuck. I never want to do anything to make him think for even a moment that I might be ashamed of him. Vowing to take him to meet my parents properly as soon as possible, I watch as the sun begins to rise. I’ve only got a small window in here, but it’s enough to watch the light change to a warm orange as the spring day starts.

  With Carter snoring lightly beside me, I slip from the bed and make use of the bathroom before finding one of his hoodies and pulling it over my head. Spike is sleeping out on the sofa, so I can’t walk around in my barely-there satin pyjamas like I usually would when it’s just me, or just the two of us now.

  Once they were happy that Carter was okay, Biff and Zach headed back to his flat, but Spike point-blank refused to leave
. That was fine by me, as long as he was happy to crash on the sofa. I could see the concern filling his eyes, and I knew that he needed to be here to see Carter first thing this morning, just to settle his own mind.

  I’m not expecting him to be awake, so I slip into the living room as quietly as I can, hoping that I can grab a coffee and go and sit outside in my morning sun trap to allow them some peace. But when I look to where he should be sleeping, I find a set of eyes looking back at me.

  “Shit,” I gasp. “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Sorry, the sofa isn’t very comfortable.”

  “It’s fine. That wasn’t the issue.” The same shadows from last night fill his eyes.

  “He’s okay. He was awake a couple of hours ago, talking to me.”

  “He really doesn’t get how awful it is for those around him when he does shit like that.”

  “I know it’s no excuse, but I think he’s too used to believing no one cares.”

  “Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Spike groans, lifting himself up so he’s sitting on the sofa, the blanket I gave him pooling at his waist. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his ink. He must notice because he reaches out and grabs his shirt before pulling it over his head.

  “Coffee?” I ask, side-stepping the sofa and going for the kitchen.

  “Yes. Make it strong.”

  “You got it.”

  I make us a mug each before taking it over and curling myself into the other side of the sofa.

  Spike takes a sip despite it clearly being too hot.

  “How… um… how many times have you had to rescue him from a fight like that?” I ask hesitantly, not knowing if I really want the answer.

  “Too many. I thought he was done. I thought he’d taken the concussion warning seriously. He promised me he was done. I guess I should have learned by now that he doesn’t fucking listen to me,” he mumbles to himself.