“Why are you here anyways?” I observe, scouring the bar for signs of Jules, who typically bartends Sunday through Wednesday.
“I was bored, thought I’d give Jules the night off.” He shrugs, setting the full glass of whiskey in front of me.
I’ll never understand why Gavin spends his spare time working the bar. He claims it helps distract him and clear his head when things are bothering him.
“Everything cool with you?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“Truthfully, I just wanted a reason to avoid having to go to my aunt Lenora’s birthday party. Perfect excuse.” He smiles and gestures around the bar.
“What would old Lenora think if she knew you volunteered to work to avoid going to see her?” I joke.
“Considering that crazy old bat always confuses me for my numb nuts cousin, I don’t think she’ll notice. The cover is in case my pesky sister decides to come snooping.” He snorts, turning when one of the men at the end of the bar signals for another beer.
He’s right about one thing: Mia is definitely one that would double check his alibi. Being seven years older than Gavin, she has always mothered him in a way. It’s only gotten worse since she’s popped out two kids of her own.
Grabbing the glass in front of me, I sling back the contents in one large gulp, finding comfort in the way the liquor seers my throat on the way down. And while it somewhat takes the edge off, it does nothing to cure the deep ache in my groin left by Kimber.
All I can see is her face: those big blue eyes, the way loose strands of hair fell across her perfect skin, how fucking incredible her ass looked in those tight little skinny jeans she was wearing. I can’t even start on how damn delicious she smelled.
Fuck me.
I don’t know why this fucking girl is so under my skin. I know I’m going to have to fuck her. I won’t be able to think straight again until I do.
“So you know the chick from last night?” I ask when Gavin reappears in front of me, moving to refill my empty glass.
“What about her?”
“She was the fucking waitress at the restaurant.”
“Wait, the one you were just at?” he asks, seeming surprised by this funny little twist.
“The very one.”
“So did you hit it or what?” he asks like it’s any other question.
“I told you, it’s not like that. Besides, I’m fairly certain she couldn’t handle me.”
“When is it ever really not like that with you, Deck? You forget who you’re talking to.” He rolls his eyes as he pushes the refilled glass of whiskey in front of me.
“Okay, so I thought about it,” I admit, grabbing the glass.
“Well then, why didn’t you?” He laughs, knowing full well that when I want something, I rarely hesitate on taking it.
“Some dude showed up and was hanging on her, seemed like they were an item.” I shrug, pouring my second drink into my mouth.
“Since when has that stopped you?” He lets out a laugh.
“I don’t know, man. I’m all fucked up over the bullshit that happened at lunch. I guess I’m just off. Trey was really on it today.” I grunt, sliding my empty glass to the edge of the bar.
“I don’t know why you even agreed to go, dude. Fuck him. He’s not worth your fucking time.” He stops directly in front of me, his tone falling serious. “Look, dude, you’ve had a shit way to go. You can’t fucking punish yourself forever, and you certainly can’t let Trey do it for you. We got a good thing here,” he says, gesturing around the bar. “Focus on that.”
“Thanks,” I say, Gavin reminding me why I keep his ass around. At the end of the day, dude’s got my back like no one else.
“That’s what brothers are for.” He gives me a nod, knowing he’s more my brother than Trey will ever be.
“You got shit covered here then?” I ask, checking the clock behind the counter to see it’s just after six.
“Yeah, I’m good. Sunday and all.” He shrugs, knowing it will be a pretty slow night.
“Perfect. I’m gonna go hit the gym,” I say, pushing away from the bar.
“Have fun,” he calls over his shoulder as I push my way through the side door that leads up to my apartment.
Climbing the stairs two at a time, I shove the key into the lock and step inside the small space. The moment the door closes I feel almost claustrophobic, like the walls are slowly closing in on me.
Yes, the gym is exactly where I need to be. I need to release some of the fucking tension that is built up in various parts of my body. I need to take my aggression out on something other than a fucking bottle of whiskey.
I’ve spent too many nights staring at the bottom of an empty bottle as is. The gym is the only other place where I can somewhat numb away the ache that has permanently attached itself to the pit of my stomach since the accident. When I’m there, I push my body so hard that the only pain I can feel is physical. It’s one of the only ways I can find even a moment of peace.
Making my way into the open kitchen, I grab two bottles of water from the fridge before crossing into the living room-bedroom combo. It’s not much, but the space is large enough for a full wrap around couch on one side and a king size bed and large dresser on the other. It’s nothing spectacular, but it serves my needs perfectly.
Grabbing my already packed gym bag from the floor next to the closet, I immediately head out of the apartment through the private entrance at the back. Climbing down an outdoor set of stairs, I cross the parking lot that separates the gym from the bar.
Sliding the key into the back door of Louie’s, a private gym primarily used for training amateur fighters, I push my way inside the moment the lock clicks. The gym is dark and silent, just how I like it. Louie never opens on Sundays, says it’s his sanity day.
Luckily for me, Louie is a fan of his scotch and as such we trade off services. He drinks at my bar for free, and I have unlimited access to his gym anytime I want it, including after hours, which is usually when I come.
Flipping on the hallway light, I immediately head for the locker room to change, taking in the silence that somewhat seems to calm the chaos between my ears.
I like being alone, having access to any room and any equipment without being disturbed by other people. Working out is one of my major releases, and I can’t have people fucking with me while I try to let out some aggression.
Switching on the stereo system that is wired throughout the entire gym, I settle on a rock channel, the beat of the heavy drum matching the pounding I feel coursing through my veins. After taping up my hands, I step in front of one of the large punching bags, taking a couple jabs before really getting into a rhythm. My body feels lighter with each punch I land.
This is what I need: to feel control, to feel my body physically strain and pushed to its limits. This is the only way I can let it out; the only way I know how.
****
“You’re leaving already?” Audrey pouts out her lower lip as she watches me zip my jeans and start searching for my shoes.
“I already told you, I don’t stay,” I remind her, sliding on my dark blue t-shirt before finally turning back towards her.
She’s sprawled across the top of the mattress, her naked body fully visible to me. I let my eyes take her in, let them rake across her petite little frame, only the sight of her doesn’t even phase me; not even a little.
I’ve had her, and my interest is now gone. That’s how it works for me. I will find a woman I want to fuck, and I fuck her. If I don’t fuck her, I have trouble shaking her, hence why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Kimber since I left the restaurant three days ago. But once I land her, I know she too will lose her affect on me.
“You sure you don’t want to go for another round?” Audrey pulls my attention back to the bed as I slip on my boots.
She runs her hand seductively across her milky skin, dipping between her thighs as she begins pleasuring herself in front of me. She bites her bottom lip and b
ends her neck backward, her long red hair fanning out around her.
She’s an attractive enough girl, one I wasn’t initially planning on fucking, though. I try to avoid the clingy stalker type, and Audrey has all the qualities of that type of hookup. But after the week I’ve had, I didn’t much care who I stuck my dick in as long as it meant I could forget; even if for just a little bit.
“Stay, Deck,” she moans, dipping her fingers inside of herself.
The action does nothing for me, and I can’t pretend it does. Truth be told, I barely got through fucking her the first time around, picturing Kimber’s face at the end just to get myself off. If I don’t fuck this girl before too long, I am likely to lose my fucking mind. I can’t ever remember a time where I have denied myself a woman I want, especially going on days now.
“Sorry, I can’t,” I say, my words immediately halting her movements.
She pulls the sheet over herself and sits up, hitting me with hurt eyes.
“I already told you how this works,” I remind her again. “Once. That’s it. I didn’t mislead you, so don’t look at me like I did.”
“I know.” She pouts. “I guess I was just hoping...” She trails off.
“Hoping what?” I ask, her words making me curious.
“That I could be the one.” She blushes slightly as she finally meets my gaze. “You know, the one you would be willing to break your one-time rule for.”
“What are you talking about?” Her question catches me a bit off-guard.
“I just thought... I don’t know. I really like you, Decklan. Like really like you.” She seems embarrassed by her confession.
I don’t know when this little infatuation started for her, but I guess I should have seen the signs. She’s been coming to the bar more and more frequently, wearing skimpier outfits each time clearly trying to snag my attention.
Standing, I let out a loud exhale.
“There’s a reason I only sleep with a woman once. And that’s because I don’t ever want to mislead a woman into believing I can give her more... I can’t.” I lean forward and kiss the top of Audrey’s head.
“You were incredible,” I reassure her, slipping on my leather jacket before quickly exiting her bedroom.
Sliding on my helmet the moment I reach my bike parked on the side of the road, I throw my leg over the sleek black exterior and fire the engine to life. Seconds later I’m speeding down the street, weaving through parked cars that take up a good portion of the neighborhood roadways.
I drive towards the bar, but once I get close I decide to just keep going. It has to be getting close to midnight at this point, and the wind whipping around me becomes colder with each moment that passes. But I just keep driving.
I need to clear my fucking head.
I need to not go home where I will likely numb myself with shots of whiskey and maybe even fuck another woman. The same pattern and yet the results it yields are always the same. It’s an endless cycle and one that brings me very little comfort anymore.
Veering onto the freeway, I increase my speed, taking advantage of the sparse late night traffic. I drive so long that by the time I finally pull off at the Springfield exit, my legs and hands are damn near numb from the drop in temperature.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. My hometown is a place I avoid like the plague, but for some reason, it’s the place I feel like I need to be tonight.
Following the familiar roads I spent my entire youth traveling, it takes only a few minutes before I’m pulling my bike off into a vacant old parking lot that sits directly across from the Springfield cemetery.
Killing the engine, I climb off and deposit my helmet onto the seat before pulling a cigarette out of my jacket pocket. Lighting it, I take a deep inhale before setting off across the street.
The cemetery is closed, of course, the main gate locked and inaccessible to vehicles. But that doesn’t stop me. Clenching my cigarette between my lips, I climb up the eight feet iron fencing that surrounds the entire graveyard, hopping to the ground the moment I reach the top.
Straightening my jacket, I set off into the darkness, knowing exactly where I am heading. I weave in and out of various headstones, heading towards the back row that sits several hundred feet from the entrance.
When I finally reach my destination, I drop my cigarette, stomping out the cherry with the heel of my boot before taking the final remaining steps towards the large dark headstone in front of me.
Conner Roderick Taylor
January, 3 1994-November 29, 2008
My eyes scan the tombstone for several long seconds, trying to remember his face, his voice; all the things that I feel are slipping away with time.
“Hey, little brother,” I finally manage to say, swallowing down the hard knot in my throat as I reach out and rest my hand on the cold stone.
Chapter Five
Kimber
“Honestly, honey, I don’t know why you don’t just come home. You don’t belong in Oregon. You belong here, with your family and people who love you.” My mother drones on in my ear as I cross campus, heading to Lovett’s directly from my English Lit class, only half paying attention to what she’s actually saying.
“We’ve been through this. I’m here to stay, at least until I complete my degree. After that, well, I guess I’ll just have to figure it out as I go,” I say, readjusting my bag that hangs heavily on my shoulder.
“That is no plan at all,” she interjects, still not able to support my decisions simply because they are mine and not hers.
“I’m not doing this again, Mother. I’ve gotta get to work. Talk soon, okay,” I say, ignoring her attempt to keep me on the phone as I hit the end call button and slide the device into the front pocket of my jacket.
Of course, I avoid telling her that I’m off work for the next two days and actually just heading over to pick up my paycheck. Cutting her off with an excuse is the only way I can end a conversation with her on a relatively good note.
I hate that it has to be this way. I hate that I can’t share in the joys of my college experience with my own mother. Unfortunately, she’s too controlling to back down, and I am too far gone to cave to the ridiculous demands that I drop my classes and return home to attend the school of their choosing with no say at all over my future.
It takes less than fifteen minutes before I am pushing my way inside the front door of Lovett’s, giving Johnson, the older gentleman who mans the bar in the evening, a nod and small smile before dropping my heavy bag next to the bar and sliding into a vacant stool.
“Need your paycheck?” Johnson asks the moment he approaches me, sliding a glass of water across the bar.
“Please.” I smile, taking a long drink of the cold liquid.
“Here you are, dear.” He returns just seconds later, setting a white sealed envelope in front of me.
I glance up to thank him but immediately freeze when I catch sight of the man who has dominated my thoughts for the past few days, sitting just cattycorner across the bar from me, a glass of golden liquor in front of him.
Decklan.
He meets my gaze almost instantly, causing my stomach to twist and the ground beneath me to shift slightly. What is he doing here?
“Did you have class today?” I hear Johnson’s words, but it takes me several moments to process them enough to form an answer.
“Um...yes, just finished my last class of the day.” I break away from Decklan’s stare to turn my attention back to the gray-haired man in front of me. “Have you been this slow all evening?” I attempt to distract myself from the gray eyes I can still feel burning holes in the side of my face.
“Pretty much.” He shrugs, turning his attention to the front door when two middle-aged men walk in and take a seat on the other side of the bar. “Well, I guess I’ll see you next week then.” He nods before setting off in the direction of the new arrivals.
Before I have time to even process Decklan being here, he appears at my side, pulling the sto
ol out directly to my left before taking a seat.
“Funny seeing you here.” His lips turn up in a one-sided smile while his eyes remain focused forward.
I try not to stare too long at his profile, at the curve of his jaw or the long scar that starts at his temple and then disappears into his thick mess of dark blond hair.
“I work here,” I manage to get out though my voice doesn’t quite portray the sarcasm that I intend for it to.
“But you’re not working tonight?” he asks, spinning his stool towards me, prompting me to turn my head inward to face him.
“I’m not,” I confirm, my heart feeling like it might actually beat through my chest at any moment.
“Let’s get out of here.” His request throws me off guard a bit, and I suck in a shaky inhale.
“And go where?”
“Anywhere you want to go.” He shrugs. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” I answer, even though my appetite checked out of the building about three minutes ago when my eyes landed on the incredible looking man now sitting next to me.
“There’s this amazing little pizza place about ten minutes from here. You in?” He gives me the sexiest grin I have ever seen, and I all but melt right on the spot.
“Um. Well... I...” I stutter out, not sure if I should. I mean, I don’t even know this man.
“I promise I don’t bite.” His smile widens as he leans forward, closing the distance between us to just mere inches. “I mean, unless you’re into that sort of thing,” he whispers, his eyes holding mine completely captive.
I can feel the heat rush my face, the crimson color fill my cheeks as his words wash over me. It slowly spreads through my limbs, warming every inch of my body.
“Well?” he questions, tilting my chin upwards with his hand, not allowing me to break the contact.
“Okay,” I breathe out my reply on a shaky exhale.
“Leave your bag, we’ll come back for it,” he says, grabbing it from the floor as he stands. “Would you keep this here for, Kimber?” he asks Jefferson who passes by us at that exact moment.
“Of course.” Jefferson nods and retrieves my bag from Decklan, stuffing it underneath the bar for safe keeping. Without another word he nods and walks away, busying himself with another group of customers who have just entered the bar area of the restaurant.
Crazy Stupid Love (Crazy Love #1) Page 4