Whiskey Burned (Flawed Heroes Book 2)

by Jessalyn Jameson

  Thirty

  “Hey, Jake.”

  Jake’s body went rigid even as his pulse sped. He’d know that gentle voice anywhere. “TB,” he whispered. He stared at his hands, covered in grease from wrenching on the old ice machine, then swiped them on his sweatpants, grabbed a wet rag, and turned around. Dressed for her shift at the other bar in town, in a black Old Faithful’s collared shirt and jeans that hugged her perfect legs, Jake couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Either TB had grown in the last few months they’d been apart, or his abstinence was about to get the best of him. As she approached the bar, heat rushed south. He’d never slept with anyone right there on the dancefloor. How quickly could he get those jeans off of her—?

  Instantly he regretted the thought. One look at TB and he was right back into lusting after his best friend’s little sister. They had to repair what had broken between them; their friendship and lifelong bond was far more important than his suddenly relentless desire to fuck her till her toes curled.

  He stifled a frustrated groan and stepped around the bar.

  One step at a time, he walked toward her. One step at a time, they’d fix the broken pieces of their relationship.

  One step at a time meant taking things slowly, not slamming her against the wall and making love to her like she deserved.

  “Dammit,” he growled.

  TB stopped abruptly, eyes wide. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “No.” Jake froze, panicking. He raised his hands in the air. “Sorry, that wasn’t…it’s not what it sounded like.” Fuck.

  TB frowned. “It sounded like you just said dammit when you saw it was me.”

  “I did.” He grinned, hoping the motion didn’t look as pained as it felt. “Just not about you. I…I remembered something I forgot to do earlier. A…um…a phone call I have to make.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Anyway, how are ya, kid?” Tossing the bar towel over his shoulder, he took another step toward her. Like a magnet, his body was drawn to her; approaching her slowly was hell. “You look good.”

  TB smiled nervously, her cheeks pinking just the slightest bit. She dropped her gaze and it was all he could do not to rush forward those last few feet and lift her chin.

  “All healed?” he asked, hoping the change in subject would bring her eyes back to his.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, for the most part.” Her smile faltered briefly; she was holding something back.

  Jake frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you not taking it easy? Bill won’t let you take time off, or what?” He nodded toward the logo on her shirt. That asshole Bill was probably overworking her.

  TB shook her head. “No, Jake, I’ve been taking it easy. Bill let me take off as much time as I needed. But it’s been three months, and I can’t afford to never work again, you know.”

  His jaw tightened. She could afford to not work if she was still here with him. He would have given her all the time she needed. He held her gaze, struggling to find the right way to say just that.

  “Speaking of which,” she said, looking away from him once more. She dug in her purse and pulled out an envelope. His envelope. “I came to return this.”

  “What?” He rocked back as if she’d pushed him. “Why? No. That’s yours.” He raised his hands, palms out.

  TB finally looked at him again, then took a few steps toward him. “No, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

  “It’s what I owe you.” He took a step backward.

  She matched his step, not allowing him to get away. “You know that’s not true, Jake.”

  He scowled, searching her eyes for a chink in the surface, a weak point. He couldn’t find anything, no way in. He shook his head.

  “Jake, please. Don’t make this hard. Take the check back; I can’t accept it.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms, drawing her focus to his chest. A flash of something lit her eyes for the briefest of seconds, a look he recognized but didn’t believe.

  Lust.

  He dropped his arms and stepped toward her. As he pulled the towel from his shoulder, her eyes watched every move. He stopped just on front of her.

  She closed her eyes. “Take the check, Jake.”

  “No.”

  Her chest rose on a deep inhale. “Please, Jake. Don’t make me beg.”

  His lips twitched. Oh, he could make her beg, all right. He reached up and gently grasped her jaw, his thumb on her lip. So much time had passed, and yet no time at all—the chemistry between them was still so palpable he could taste it.

  “No, Jake.” She stepped backward. “That’s not what…that’s not why I’m here.” She extended the envelope toward him. “Take it.”

  “No. It’s what I owe you.”

  TB groaned. “Stop, Jake, just stop. We both know this isn’t what you owe me.”

  “Fine. I matched it.” He raised his eyebrows in challenge.

  “What?” TB tilted her head, her eyes narrowed.

  Jake squared his shoulders. “I matched it. Every cent you made here, I matched.”

  She frowned and his heart pinched. This wasn’t going well at all. “Why?”

  “Because I promised I’d take care of you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t close her eyes. “There it is again.”

  “What?” Jake frowned.

  “Your need to take care of me, like I’m your kid or some wounded fucking bird.” She whipped the envelope at his chest. “I. Am. Not. Yours. To. Take. Care. Of. I’m not your cross to bear anymore.”

  Jake shook his head, his mind racing. How was this going so downhill so fast? “It’s not, I mean, I want to make sure you’re happy, make sure you have everything you need.” He reached for her but she stepped back. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? Couldn’t she feel how perfectly their bodies were drawn to one another? The air between them sizzled with their magnetic pull.

  “God, Jake, don’t you get it? That’s not what I want from you!” She spun on her heels and stomped toward the door.

  “Wait!” His heart pounding frantically in his chest, he scrambled for the right words. “Wait, please.” She paused, and he exhaled, then strode toward her. He stopped beside her and looked down at perfect blue eyes, angry but familiar, so familiar. “Wait,” he whispered one more time.

  “What, Jake?”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Why? Tell me why.” She searched his gaze, her eyes softening from rage to…hurt. Why was she sad? Why was she always in pain when he was near? “Tell me why I should stay, Jake.”

  He placed his hand on her elbow. She flinched, but didn’t pull her arm away. Now was the time, his moment. He could hear her say the words, get her to admit how she felt about him. Then he could be honest with her in turn and the two of them could move forward. Together.

  “What is it you want from me, TB?”

  She sighed, then pulled her arm out of his grasp. “For starters, it’s Tamryn.”

  With that, she pushed out the front door, leaving him in the dust-filled glow of a disappearing and reappearing ray of sunlight as the door swung back and forth in her wake.

  He inhaled a shaky breath, but didn’t move, frozen in place, his heart on the floor where she stood just seconds ago. “What the fuck just happened?”

  Chapter

  Thirty-One

  For the next two days, Tamryn’s broken heart was a relentless punch to the gut. If only she could put that in a box and tape it up tightly for safe keeping. She focused on packing and cleaning up Charlie’s house so it would be nice when she moved out, but even pre-move busywork was no match for the constant reel of Jake playing on and on in her mind.

  Jake on his bike, riding up to see her.

  Jake tugging on her ponytail playfully.

  Jake on the stage, singing beside her.

  Jake in her arms, her body fitting so perfectly with his.

  Jake standing there before her, finally asking her what she wanted from him. That was the worst
memory of all, the one that ignited such fresh, searing pain within her soul. So what if he couldn’t leave her childish nickname behind? Was it really that big of a deal? She’d always been TB to him…who cares? Had she really just pushed him away over a name?

  Her heartache intensified, the pain relentlessly reminding her of how much she loved him, and how much she’d just given up because of something as petty as a fucking nickname.

  “Ugh!” She threw a stuffed animal at the stack of boxes along the far wall of her room.

  She’d never be over Jake Johnson, that much she was now sure of. This wasn’t a passing crush, or a love that a girl could just move on from. Jake was the one, the perfect guy for her, and she’d lost him before she’d even had him. But he hadn’t fought for her either, only let her walk away.

  What a sad story indeed.

  Once she was settled in at her new apartment, she’d figure out a way to make things work with Jake. He was emotionally unavailable and as ill-equipped as they came, but she knew without a doubt he was hers. She wouldn’t give up on him.

  As she surveyed her dozen or so boxes, she realized she’d left more than her heart at Jake’s; could she really sum up her entire life in twelve measly boxes?

  Jake plucked a few chords on his guitar, looking around the room. He missed the way her smile lit up the bar, the way she looked so free, so fucking sexy when she stood on that stage beside him. He missed the scent of muffins and cupcakes that would fill his whole house, sometimes as late as three o’clock in the morning, his little midnight baker. He missed the way she’d grown up before his eyes, somehow morphing from little kid to a woman who’d consumed his entire being.

  The Bar wasn’t the same without her.

  Hell, he wasn’t the same without TB.

  Seeing her last week had solidified what he’d known and ignored all along; TB belonged here, with him, and his life wasn’t whole without her. But after their most recent meeting, he felt even further away from her than before. He’d sent her that check, not to win her back—though his heart had secretly hoped for that—but to do the right thing. For her, for Colby. . And, truth be told, to know if she wanted him after the playing field was on level ground. Who knew his gesture would backfire so badly? Fixing things between them seemed more than impossible now. You can’t just un-light the match after the inferno is raging. And that’s what this was, a full-blown dumpster fire of his mistakes. Too many goddamn mistakes to count. His relationship with TB, his promise to Colby, his heart… everything had gone up in smoke, and he was dumbfounded as to how to fix the havoc he’d wreaked.

  But oh, he would fix it. You bet your ass he’d fix it.

  His heart wouldn’t let him do otherwise.

  “Tamryn’s moving out of that Morris’ kid’s place today.” Reed stepped onto the dance floor, approaching the stage.

  “Good for her, man.” Jake struggled to keep his smile at bay.

  “Yeah, keep pretending that doesn’t twirl your skirt, Johnson.”

  Jake looked up at his friend and grinned.

  “That’s what I thought.” Reed clapped him on the shoulder. “Inventory is done and done.”

  Jake stood and set his guitar back in the case. “Well done, man. I think we beat last year’s record. Ready to go pick up your new baby?”

  “Hell yeah I am.” Reed stepped around the bar, holding up his new license place like a trophy for all to see.

  BERTHA2

  Jake shook his head. “You’re a real class act, honoring the first Bertha that way.” He couldn’t say the words without laughing.

  “Bite me, Johnson.” He stepped through the doorway and elbowed Jake as he passed. “You should have paid for this plate after what you did to Bertha.”

  “Why didn’t you just dive down to the bottom of old Mills’ Lake and get the plate off that heap of junk?”

  Reed paused, then turned back to face Jake. “And disturb her final resting place?” Reed grinned, eyes wide. “I’m no grave robber.”

  The drive out to Lee County took over an hour, and the two rode in silence most of the way, Jake too focused on his mess of a life to offer much in the way of conversation. As they neared their destination, Reed cleared his throat.

  Here it comes. Jake side-eyed Reed, bracing for the deluge of shit he was about to get. “What is it, bro? Get it off your chest.”

  “You know, buddy, just when I thought you couldn’t fuck things up worse, you go on and fuck things up worse.”

  Jake shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me; it’s my shit show, remember? I’m quite aware of the mess I made.”

  “Are you?” Reed leaned forward in the seat. “Because from where I’m sitting, it’s been a good three days and you’ve done nothing to clean up said mess.”

  “Trust me.” Jake snorted. “If I knew how to clean this thing up with TB, I’d Mr. Clean the hell out of it. Every time I try to make things right, I fuck things up worse.”

  Reed sighed, shaking his head. “Do you love her?”

  Jake glanced at him as he crossed over the county line. “You know I do.”

  “That’s how you fix it.”

  Jake scoffed. “Oh? It’s as easy as that?”

  “It’s as easy as that. Tell her.”

  “Right, bro, ‘cause it’s that easy.”

  Reed groaned in frustration. “Yeah, it’s that easy. What the hell, man? It’s Tamryn Baker we’re talking about. Just tell her you love her and get on to making me an Uncle or whatever.”

  Jake laughed. “That’s putting the cart before the horse a bit, don’t you think?” Jake smiled, imagining TB pregnant, covered in flour and nothing but that tiny apron, making his house a home the way only she’d ever been able to do.

  “Just tell her, man.”

  Jake considered the idea, but somehow, just telling her how he felt didn’t seem like it would be enough, not after all the mistakes he’d made. He needed something big, a grand gesture. Something that would knock her socks off and make sure that she knew, deep down inside she knew he loved her and only her, and would never stop showing her just how much.

  Gramps’ Garage sat just on the outskirts of Lee City proper, the anchor store of a small L-shaped strip mall, and the best customs shop in the tristate area. Jake pulled the truck to the back where metal roll-up doors opened up onto a hot rod shop much larger than what the front exterior would lead you to believe. Three eighteen-foot bays made up the back of the building, and smack dab in the center was Reed’s 57 Ford F-100 pickup. After years of rusting in the old Samuels’ barn, she was shined up like a new pair of shoes, jack-o-lantern orange and waiting patiently for her owner.

  Jake looked at his friend as he pulled up to the shop, a Cheshire cat grin pulling at Reed’s cheeks. He shook his head. “You’re like a damn teenager in a titty bar, you know it?” Jake whistled as he put the truck in park. “She’s sure pretty, though, buddy.”

  The shop’s owner—Reed’s second cousin’s friend’s brother or something—Chris “Gramps” Ward waved and walked to meet them. His salt and pepper hair stood high like Elvis’s, and tattoos lined both arms from knuckles to neck. “What do you think?” He asked as he slapped Reed’s hand into a firm shake. “She everything you hoped she’d be?”

  Reed nodded, grinning wildly as he approached his new girl. As he ran his hand slowly and delicately over the hood, Jake stepped away to give him some alone time with BERTHA2.

  Jake roamed the sidewalk of the strip mall, passing various storefronts and shops as he took his time meandering. Reed would be a while, and Jake used this time alone to continue pondering. There had to be a way to win TB’s heart.

  Tearing him from his thoughts, his nose picked up the scent of sweet cinnamon and his eyes closed as he tilted his head back and inhaled. He paused, searching the parking lot for the source of the smell. A bakery sat on one endcap of the strip mall, a short line forming out the door.

  A bakery.

  The Bakery next to The Bar.
<
br />   Jake’s pulse quickened and his mouth watered, but he didn’t have time to try the place out, regardless of how badly his stomach wanted to urge him forward, or how long it had been since he’d had a decent muffin. His thoughts whirled chaotically in his head, a tornado of ideas and questions spinning as he tried to make sense of the process, the idea.

  He finally had a plan. Her plan. It had been there in front of his face all along, but he’d been too damn blind to see it.

  Warmth spread through his chest as excitement filled him, spurring him forward. He turned on his heels and raced back to the shop, the idea forming into perfect alignment in his brain, a solid image of what needed to be done to show her just how sorry he was and how terribly much he needed her back in his life, his home.

  He pushed through the front doors of the shop and raced past the receptionist. “Reed?” he shouted once inside the garage, a bit too loudly on this quiet Saturday morning. All the mechanics turned to him, their eyebrows raised. “Sorry. Sorry.” He cringed, meeting Reed’s gaze as he stepped out from behind a low divider wall.

  “Everything all right, buddy?”

  Jake grinned. “Everything is perfect.”

  Reed stepped toward him. “Yeah? Then where’s the fire?”

  “No fire. I need your help with something.”

  Reed’s eyebrows rose and he smiled, nodding slowly as he realized what Jake needed from him. “If it involves cleaning up this mess you made, I’m in.”

  Jake smiled, his chest expanding with the anticipation. He nodded, the movement quick and bouncy like his heartbeat. He’d finally realized how to show TB how much she meant to him, and he’d make Colby proud in the process. When all was said and done, no matter how she felt about him, Jake was about to finally do right by her, and this realization set his soul afire.

  Because doing right by TB had been the goal along, and this was his chance.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Two

  Charlie and Roc finished loading the last of the boxes into Charlie’s pickup, then strapped them down and closed the tailgate. Tamryn stepped back into the house and took one last, quick look around. It wasn’t like she couldn’t return for any forgotten items—like she had much to leave behind—but something inside her really wanted this to be a clean break.