“Don’t—” Pamela pressed her lips tight, breathing through the need to defend him. Kim was right. But her stupid, idiotic heart didn’t like hearing the truth from someone else.
“You like him.” Cassie’s expression softened, the friendship turning to compassion.
“Understatement.” Kim scoffed.
“Kim.” She scowled at her sister. “Go finish up out back.”
“Sorry. Was that supposed to be a secret?”
No. But it was personal. She didn’t want Cassie sliding her into the Brute-groupie category, even though that was exactly where she needed to be. “Give me a minute, okay?”
Her sister sighed and made for the kitchen doors.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this harder on you.” Cassie’s voice held sincerity. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re the reason he’s been in seclusion for the last few weeks. He’s showing signs of heartbreak.”
“Pfft. I’m not convinced he has a heart at all.”
Cassie’s lips thinned into a sad smile. “Do you really believe that?”
Yes.
No.
Christ, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “I think you need to ask him about his family. Maybe then he’ll talk to you about his mother.”
“Okay.” Cassie gave a solemn nod. “But I still think he’d really appreciate seeing you.”
“If he needs me, he knows where to find me.”
“You’ve gotta understand, a man like Bryan won’t ask for help in words. He’s not going to blurt it out. What he’s doing is showing how badly he needs someone, and the four of us—Shay, Leo, T.J., and myself—aren’t good enough. He needs you.”
“This isn’t fair.” If he’d made a mistake and wanted to see her again, he needed to come crawling back. Not the other way around.
“He’s a good man, Pamela. He’s one of the best. He just doesn’t like to show it.”
“I know.” She’d figured that out herself, which had made his rejection all the harder to bear. He was a great guy, who shared a sexual attraction with her, and still he preferred to be alone.
Cassie backtracked toward the door. “Well, if you change your mind, or want to talk, you can always find me at the club.”
“Wait.” Pamela grabbed the envelope and rushed around the counter. “I don’t want this.”
“Then give it back to him. Or rip it up. Either way, I don’t want it either.” She continued onto the sidewalk. “It was nice seeing you.” Cassie gave a gentle finger-wave, then walked out of view, leaving numbness in her wake.
There was no point running after her. There was no strength or energy.
“Goddamn it.” Instead, she pulled the cafe doors shut and flicked over the closed sign.
“You’re thinking about going to see him, aren’t you?” Kim spoke from the kitchen.
“I can’t help it.” She rested her head against the glass. “If he’s going through something…”
“What?” The swinging kitchen doors whooshed open. “What are you going to do for him?”
“I don’t know.” She turned and dragged her feet back to the coffee machine. “What if Cassie’s right? What if he needs me?”
“Pamela.” Her name was a placation.
“I know. I know.” She pulled the basket toward her and peeked inside. “You think I’m doing the same thing I did with Lucas.”
Kim approached, meeting her gaze from the other side of the counter. “Aren’t you?”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
The one-word question required a far bigger answer. One she wasn’t sure she could convey with conviction when everything was uncertain.
“Pamela? Explain it to me. Make me understand why you’re doing this to yourself again.”
“Because this time it was real,” she admitted. “With Bryan, it wasn’t just about hoping for more. I could actually feel it. I could’ve sworn he felt the same way.”
She placed the envelope back in the basket.
“You were wrong before. You thought the same about Lucas.”
“No. I expected the same from Lucas. But I never felt it, and he never once showed it. I stupidly thought he owed me his affection after everything I did for him. I became infatuated with the thought of us being in love. I know that now.”
“And maybe in a few years’ time, you’ll have the hindsight to explain this situation, too.”
Pamela cringed. She didn’t want to think about Bryan for years. Not if she couldn’t be with him.
“I want you to be happy.” Kim gave a half-hearted smile. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve someone who adores you.”
“Then what should I do?”
“We should upgrade your standard pity party into something sponsored by your sexy club. Look.” She pulled out one of the bottles from the basket. “We’ve got vodka.”
“And wine.”
“Two bottles.” Kim waggled her brows. “And your light ass wouldn’t even need one.” She continued looking through the basket, her fingers pausing on the envelope. “Do you mind if I take a look? I’ve always wanted to know how much you pay to get laid.”
Pamela rolled her eyes. “Go for it.” She was curious to find out the monetary value herself. What price had he placed on her broken heart? Had he refunded her membership for the exact number of months she wouldn’t attend? Or would he add more insult to her emotional injuries by giving her added compensation?
Kim carefully opened the back and pulled out a slip of paper, the piece no bigger than a business card. “Are you sure there’s supposed to be a refund in here?”
“That’s what Cassie said.” She pressed onto the tips of her toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the contents.
“Well, this definitely isn’t a check.” Kim placed the paper back inside the envelope and handed it over. “Take a look.”
It was a standard size, nothing special, apart from her full first name scribbled on the front. There was no nickname this time. And there was no check inside, either. Not even cash.
She retrieved the scrap of paper and felt the blood rush from her face. “A funeral notice…”
Her heart squeezed, tighter and tighter until she couldn’t take it anymore. She blinked through her rapidly blurring vision to read the heartbreaking words resting in her palm.
MUNRO, Pamela Sue of Tampa aged 55 years.
Dearly loved wife of Raymond Thomas Munro. Mother of Bryan Munro. Cherished sister to Andrew and Kylie, and aunt to Silvia, Tyler, Jackson, and Tera.
Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to attend a funeral service for Pamela, which will be held in the chapel at 17 Day Street on the 1st of May, commencing at 10 a.m. to be followed by interment in the cemetery.
No flowers by request. Donations to your preferred cancer charity appreciated.
“His mom,” she whispered. That’s why he’d always called her Ella. “She must’ve died weeks ago. Around the same time I ignored his text message.” Guilt and regret bubbled inside her, coming out in the form of a dry sob.
He’d reached out. He’d wanted a shoulder. And she’d ignored him.
“Hey, now. Don’t get crazy.” Kim came around the counter. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“But he’s not. Didn’t you hear what Cassie said? He’s falling apart and won’t even talk to his friends about it. They don’t even know his mother died.”
“And what makes you think he’ll talk to you? You’re only going to get hurt.”
Too late. She was already straddling heartache and limbo. “I need to see him.”
“Sweetie…” Kim placed a gentle hand on her elbow. “Please don’t.”
“You know I have to do this. I can’t keep questioning myself. Either way, I have to get answers.” She grabbed her handbag from under the register. “Would you mind closing up for me?”
“Only if you call as soon as you finish talking to him.” Kim placed her hands on her hips. �
��And grant me permission to knee-cap him if he upsets you.”
“He’s grieving—”
“Kneecaps or no deal.”
“Fine. You can do whatever you like if this turns sour.” She’d deal with the possibility of having to lie to her sister later. For now, she had to get to the club. To ease her pain, and hopefully his. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bryan stared at the mess once known as the work office. He’d lost his mind. Momentarily. Now the remnants of their once tidy work space lay scattered across the floor in a mangled heap that mimicked his life.
All because of a death notice.
A death notice he couldn’t fucking find.
“It has to be here somewhere.” The new envelope was missing. The one he’d written on. Those six letters to name the person who left his life long ago, but shaped every decision he’d ever made. She was the reason he’d never had a relationship. She’d created his paranoia over love and commitment, and molded him into the man who refused to let down his guard.
All for what? Stubborn pride? Superiority? To continue a fight with his parents, when the assholes didn’t even know they were still at war?
They never gave a shit about the years he’d spent distancing himself from others in retaliation to what they’d put him through. They didn’t care enough to pay attention.
The ongoing barrage of reminders made him want to tear apart the office all over again. He wanted to destroy everything. Most of all, his mother. But evidently, she was already dead, and probably looking up from hell with just as much disdain for him as she always had.
“It’s not in here, man. Maybe Shay or Cassie thought it was rubbish.” Leo kicked at a splayed book on the floor. “What was in the envelope, anyway?”
He huffed out a breath. “Nothing.” He wouldn’t check the bin for a third time when the first two attempts came up empty.
“You lost your shit looking for an envelope with nothing in it?” T.J. shot a glance at Leo, the two of them sharing a silent communication.
“Yeah, I guess I did.” He strode for the door, still incapable of revealing the bullshit clogging his veins. He couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t even understand it. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ll clean this mess up later.”
They didn’t stop him. Didn’t say a word. Their kid gloves were well and truly in place, with neither of them willing to give him the verbal beatdown he deserved for destroying their space. Shay and Cassie hadn’t chastised him when they’d walked in on his meltdown, either.
He fled down the hall, then took the stairs to Shot of Sin two at a time. He should’ve run. Instead, he decided to hide. He practically jogged across the empty dance floor, unlocked the Vault door, and descended the next staircase in darkness.
He didn’t bother with the lights. He hoped he’d fall. A few broken bones and a heavy sedative seemed preferable to the punishing void consuming him.
His mother was dead, and the web-thin ties connecting him to the rest of his family had been severed. The news should’ve brought delirious joy. Somehow, it didn’t. Now, there was another layer to his lack of worth. Another brick to add to the wall around him.
He reached the bottom of the stairs intact and slammed his way through the next pin-code door until he reached the newbie lounge. After a slap against the light switch, he continued into the main room, then straight behind the bar.
Instinct had him reaching for a bottle of scotch, dragging the soothing liquid to stand on the counter in front of him. He stared at the alcohol, his body begging for a taste, his mind pleading for the escapism.
He wouldn’t be defeated.
This time, he’d savor the new invisible scars his parents had inflicted on him with pure lucidity. He’d relish the pain. He’d make the torment solidify his strength and wash away the momentary lapse when he’d stupidly decided to give a fuck about someone.
He became infatuated with the bottle, entranced by the possible solace for minutes. Maybe hours. Then the main entrance door squeaked and he closed his eyes, not wanting to face whoever came to break his solitude.
“I thought I’d find you down here.”
Cassie.
Out of all the people to disturb him, it had to be her.
They should’ve sent Shay. He’d have no hesitation in giving Leo’s girlfriend a piece of his mind. But Cassie was different. She was soft. Kind. A fucking burst of unwanted sunshine.
He opened his eyes and visually defiled the scotch. “This is the only time I’m allowed down here, remember?”
“I was under the impression the hiatus was your choice.”
“My choice?” Maybe it was. If only he hadn’t pissed off the women of the Vault in the first place. If only he’d sent one of the security team after Ella that night in the parking lot instead of indulging his unprecedented interest in someone of the opposite sex.
“I thought you were hiding from something,” Cassie hedged. “Or someone.”
He squeezed the neck of the bottle, not appreciating her accuracy.
It wasn’t that he was hiding from Ella. He knew he wouldn’t see her again. Instead, he supposed he was withdrawing from anyone or anything that reminded him of his mistakes.
“I just want to be left alone.”
Slowly, she came toward the bar, her eyes bleeding with concern as she took a seat on the stool opposite him. “I went to see Pamela today.”
Every muscle snapped rigid. The anger and self-loathing fled under the weight of panic. Pure fear. “Why?”
“I thought I’d make things easier on you and drop off her refund.”
“Thanks,” the word grated through his teeth. “But I could’ve done it. It was only a case of writing a check and putting it in the mail. I wasn’t going to see her.”
Cassie shrugged. “I figured as much. That’s why I knew it was the right decision. We were all concerned that things didn’t end amicably.”
He narrowed his eyes, giving a voiceless warning.
“Not between you and her,” she quickly amended. “Between the Vault itself. You know how much we pride ourselves on the club’s reputation.”
His jaw ached under the pressure of his clenched molars. “I hope you were smart enough to mind your own business, Cass.”
She broke eye contact, her chin hitching in the slightest show of remorseful defiance.
“Cassie?” His blood surged.
Her cheeks turned a warm shade of pink, and the delicate column of her throat rolled with a heavy swallow. “You haven’t been yourself lately. I thought she was the cause.”
“But now you know better.” It should’ve been a statement. He should’ve spoken with conviction. Instead, he was stuck sounding like a jackass as he waited for her to spill whatever news she had about the woman who hijacked his masculinity.
“Now I know something special happened between the two of you. You like her, Bryan. I know you do. And when I handed over the check you wrote, I could tell she was upset by the formality.”
There were many things to hate about her statement, but his focus pinpointed the abnormality. “I didn’t write a check, Cassie. I hadn’t gotten around to it.”
Her eyes met his, her brows knitting tight.
Something was wrong with this situation. Something his intuition had already begun to digest with nauseous anticipation.
“I found the envelope you addressed to her. It was on the floor in the office.”
On the floor.
In his office.
There were no words. Only panic. Only volatile anger.
“Bryan?”
His lungs heaved with each breath. His limbs shook. He gripped the counter behind him with his free hand, that liquor bottle burning a hole through his other palm. “It wasn’t a fucking check.”
The bottle threatened to slide from his grip. He tightened his hold, clutching the glass to stop himself from throwing it against the wall.
Ella had his mother�
�s death notice.
“Did you see her open it?”
She shook her head.
Maybe there was still time to get the envelope before it was opened. To reclaim his privacy.
“Go get it.” He glared to reiterate the demand.
“I’m sorry, Bryan. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t give a shit about the right thing. You only wanted to sate your curiosity.”
She cringed. “You’ve never made friends with a woman before. Not like this. At least, not that I’ve ever known. And you were happy. Then, all of a sudden, you cancel the demo night and start falling into a spiraling depression. I wanted to know what happened. We all needed to make sure you were okay.”
He stepped toward her side of the bar, raising to his full height. “Get it back. Now.”
“I…” She cleared her throat. “It was almost closing time. She wouldn’t be there anymore.”
“Then find her. Get in your car and don’t come back until you have it.”
Her eyes glistened, the slight sheen of approaching tears kicking him square in the balls. Fucking hell. He swung away, facing the back of the bar, the bottle now a serious temptation in his closed fist.
If he started drinking, he wouldn’t stop. Not today. Not tomorrow.
“What was in the envelope? What’s so important?” Her voice shook. “And why didn’t she know the demonstration night was canceled? What happened between you two? One minute you were dating. The next you were—”
“We weren’t dating.” He hung his head.
“I disagree.” Her voice continued to waver, but there was backbone in her words. “You told her things. You cared for her. I didn’t need to see the two of you together to come to that conclusion. I’ve heard parts of what happened. You went to her cafe, and her house. You brought food and wine. Then a few days later, you’re taking her to a bar. How isn’t that dating?”
He didn’t know. He’d never dated before.
“You chased her, Bryan. You went after her because you like her. You may have blamed it on a million different reasons, but you enjoyed her company and you wanted to keep—”
The Vault Box Set Page 51