Delivered with a Kiss: Veteran Movers 4

by Marie Harte

  “You’d better be coming to help me,” Margaret Ramsey insisted, every inch the ice queen. “Because you can bet your ass I’ll burn this letter and any shot you ever have to get to know your father if you don’t. I have to out of here by next week, and I’m done waiting on you. Be here Saturday, one o’clock. Or don’t bother coming.” She texted him the address.

  “Fuck.” He swore some more, ignoring the glares from several mothers with smaller children and stormed from the store, now feeling like a cretin for burning tiny ears.

  “Yo, let’s go,” Cash nodded to his SUV. He’d been giving Smith a ride the past few days. Thankfully, Cash hadn’t asked any questions about Erin or why Smith might be needing help to get to work.

  Smith entered the vehicle and slammed the door behind him, then put his head back and tried to tune out everything. Inside he was dying, and he was so stupid for thinking he might have a future with a woman who meant everything to him.

  “So, you and Erin,” Cash said slowly. “Not working out?”

  “Fuck off.” He seethed.

  “What happened?”

  “Who the hell knows?”

  They drove for a while, until Smith realized it wasn’t back to the job. “Where are we going?”

  Cash didn’t answer, and Smith didn’t feel like playing twenty questions, so he remained silent. They arrived at a large warehouse. A huge guy with a flat top stood at the back door in jeans and an olive drab sweatshirt. He didn’t look military or on the up and up despite the military haircut.

  Cash left his vehicle, and Smith joined him because he had nothing better to do.

  He watched Cash and the big dude bro-hug. Money exchanged hands. “Thanks, Ritter. I owe you.”

  “Nah. This’ll do. And I was never here, right?”

  Cash nodded. He looked at Smith, locked the SUV with his remote, and scowled. “Come on, fuckhead.” He entered the warehouse without looking back.

  Smith had had enough. “Who are you calling a fuckhead, asshole?” He followed Cash inside and stopped. The place looked deserted but for the small boxing ring off to the side, highlighted by long florescent lights overhead. Around the place, small cocktail tables gave the place a club feel, and a lot of paper stubs littered the ground.

  “Let’s go. You and me.” Cash was putting on headgear and taping his hands. Then he took out a small plastic mouthguard from a sealed baggie by the equipment rack before fitting his hands into boxing gloves.

  “Seriously? I’ll hurt you. Then Jordan will be mad at me.” And Reid and Evan and Aunt Jane… Or had the sweet older woman been faking the whole time at her house? Had she been the one to warn Erin off?

  “Let’s go,” Cash said, muffled through the mouthguard. “Your piss-poor attitude is on my last nerve.”

  “Yeah? So’s your sense of superiority,” Smith sneered. “You no-neck motherfucker.”

  “Oh, words hurt. Boo hoo.” Cash smirked at him.

  Smith put the headgear on but didn’t bother with tape. He put to use the mouthguard and gloves though.

  Then he stepped into the ring and let loose his fury.

  He wasn’t too proud to say he’d beaten the shit out of Cash. But then, Cash hadn’t hit him back much. He’d been blocking a lot, but the guy could have pounded Smith and hadn’t.

  Sometime later, Smith and Cash lay on their backs on the mat, panting as they tried to catch their breath.

  Cash spit the mouthguard out into his glove. “You done yet?”

  Smith did the same. “Maybe.” To his surprise, he felt somewhat better. The rage had passed. Now he just felt grief. He took off the headgear and gloves and closed his eyes.

  So, he wasn’t prepared when Cash slugged him in the stomach. As he rolled to his side and wheezed, he heard Cash sigh. “Yeah, cheap shot. Whatever. I let you pound on me for fifteen minutes. You have some anger issue, bro.”

  “Fuck…off,” Smith said in between painful breaths. Shit, that hurt.

  “So, Erin dumped you. Life goes on. Man up. Just tell her you’re sorry.”

  He leaned up on an arm and glowered. “Sorry for what?” he rasped. “I have no idea what I did. She just won’t talk to me, says she wants to go home.” His eyes watered, and he blamed the punch. At least she had a home to go back to. Without her, he had nothing.

  “That’s it?” Cash scratched his head. “Huh. Jordan told me you were being all pissy and bugging her about Erin.”

  “Bugging her?” Smith snorted. “I asked her one goddamn question about what happened Saturday night.”

  “And she had no clue. She told me Erin was happy and in love with you. Etcetera, etcetera.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He wished. “And it’s not just her.” He hadn’t meant to talk about it, but keeping everything to himself no longer helped. Instead he felt burdened, needing to share with his brothers. And that just sucked, because who knew how long they’d want him around.

  “What else is there?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me. You don’t think I’ll care? Is that it? Well, idiot, I care, okay? You’re like a less mature, rougher sketch of me. And I feel sorry for you.”

  “Fuck. Off.” Smith had no trouble saying that.

  “What I mean is, when I lose it, Reid helps me. And man, I used to lose it all the time. How do you think I knew about this place? Ritter once took me here where I fought for fun. And, well, for money. But don’t tell Reid. They closed the place down over a year ago… Anyway, that’s not important. What’s the deal? I got nothing but time, hero, so talk.”

  Smith rolled to sit up and rubbed his tender stomach. “You really want to know?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?” Cash barked.

  And Smith saw himself in a few years, older, more sarcastic, and hopefully less angry. “Margaret Ramsey is blackmailing me.”

  Cash’s eyes widened. “Okay, that I hadn’t expected.”

  “She has a letter Allen Smith left for me. Yeah, our dad.”

  “No shit. Wait. What’s with the blackmail?”

  “She wants me to do something for her, or she won’t give me the letter. For all I know, it doesn’t exist.”

  “But you have to find out.”

  “Do I?” Smith felt so tired. “Who gives a fuck? Angela didn’t want me. Meg didn’t either. And I never once heard from Allen. So who cares?”

  “But you’ll always want to know.”

  “Yes, no. I don’t care about much of anything right now.” God, I won’t cry. Not in front of him.

  “Oh, enough of this.” Cash stood over him, his hands on his hips. “What exactly did Erin say that put you in this funk? Did she or didn’t she break up with you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Cash stared at him, his mouth open. “How can you not know? Are you telling me she’s pissed off, you have no idea why, and that’s why you’ve been moping around like you just found out Old Yeller dies in the end?”

  “Thanks, Spoiler Alert. I’m guessing that’s the only book you ever finished so you just had to share.”

  Cash gave him the finger. “You are so very, very sad. Pathetic. Talk to Erin and find out what’s wrong. You can’t fix it if you don’t know where to start.”

  “I know that,” Smith snapped. “I asked her to move in with me. And she said yes. But she won’t move all her stuff in, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she leaves.” God, he didn’t want to think it, but he knew it was coming. Had known all along. “Why would she stay? None of them stay.” I’m such a loser.

  He heard his mother—Meg—telling him the same thing in so many ways over the years. The kids who didn’t come to his party and never invited him to theirs. The girls who never called him back. Who used him until he’d learned they only took and took and never gave. His mothers, who had thrown him away.

  Yet he still hadn’t learned, thinking that giving Meg money and coming back to see her once he got of the service would make a difference. “I’m so stupid
.” A big ball of self-hate stuck in his throat, and he choked on it.

  “You are a moron. I don’t know if I’d say stupid…”

  Smith rose and charged, knocking Cash to the ground. He started whaling on the guy, out of control and uncaring of anything but getting back the blessed numbness of his life. He felt himself get hit multiple times, but the pain didn’t matter. And then he felt Cash’s arm around his neck.

  “Jesus, pass out, asshole. Before you kill me,” Cash croaked.

  And he knew nothing more.

  * * *

  When Smith woke up, he was lying in a bed in a strange room, his arms and legs tied to the frame’s posts. He knew he should care, but he didn’t.

  “Yo, he’s awake.”

  Cold water splashed in his face, making him gasp. “There you are, sunshine.” Reid sounded happy but looked like he wanted to chew nails. “Wake the fuck up.”

  “R-Reid?”

  “That’s right.”

  Cash and Evan stepped into the room.

  Smith opened his left eye wider, but his right eye remained sore, so he left it closed. “You look like shit,” he rasped to Cash, who sported bruises and limped when he moved.

  “You’re already on my list, don’t add to it.”

  Evan shook his head. “What is wrong with this family?”

  Smith laughed, and not in amusement. “What family?”

  “Okay, this self-pity crap? It’s done. You’re done.” Reid threw another glass of water at Smith.

  Coughing, Smith shook his head to get rid of the water. “Great. I’m fired. Oo-rah.”

  “See? I told you. He’s a mini-me.” Cash sighed. “Smith, you’re a huge pain in the ass.”

  Evan muttered, “Pot calling kettle. Hello.”

  “I heard that.” Cash blew out a breath. “So, we have a couple things to get through. First, the Allen business. You might not want the info, but I do.”

  “He—”

  “Is a piece of our history. So, we’re gonna go see what the bitch wants and shut her up. Okay? Then you never have to see her again. You do that for me, I’ll fix Erin for you.”

  “It’s too late.” Hell, he didn’t even know what he was saying.

  Evan shook his head. “You are so ridiculous I can’t even… Let me recap this for you. Erin is hungover and says she wants to go home. Instead of having a mature conversation and asking her why, you don’t talk to her and act like the world is ending for two. Whole. Days.”

  The rage that he’d thought had gone came back. “What the fuck would you know, with your perfect world and your perfect life?” he spat at Evan. “You have no idea what it’s like to have no one.”

  When Evan would have spoken, Reid grabbed him by the arm and said, “Smith, you have—”

  “No one, damn it.” The tears and pain welled from deep inside, the hurt so fucking bad. It poured out, a rush of all the badness he’d been born with. “The one person who accepts me almost fucking died.” Poor Tilly. She could do so much better than him. “Don’t you assholes get it? I am nothing and no one. I have no friends, no mother, no father. No brothers,” he said with a sneer, because they didn’t know the real him. “You say you want to be close, but you have no idea who I am.”

  “Who are you?” Cash asked.

  “I’m trash. A waste, okay?” he yelled, forced to say it, to finally believe it. Fuck. He almost had Erin, but he’d lost her. Because he’d never really had her. Like all the others. She’d seen and was done. And it hurt. It hurt so much. “I did well in the Corps, you know? Always went first, not afraid to be hurt or die, because it doesn’t matter when you don’t matter. But then it wasn’t enough.” He remembered thinking that maybe after so much time away, perhaps his mother might have missed him. “I thought if I came home, she’d see me.” He laughed, a bitter dry husk of the man he was. “And she did. She saw the real me I never wanted to face.”

  He looked at them and felt himself crying and had nothing left, not even shame. “I’m a loser, okay? I accept it. Move on.”

  “Why are you a loser?” Reid asked.

  “Are you stupid? She threw me away,” he roared, so fucking done being trash. “She kept you, asshole. Not me. No one has ever wanted me.”

  “Erin does,” Evan said quietly.

  “Shut up. She does not.”

  “We do,” Cash said, and suddenly Smith couldn’t look at him, because the humiliation came rushing back, a tidal wave of agony that he’d exposed himself and been found lacking all over again. All this feel-good shit was just pathetic and out of pity.

  “Go away.”

  “Oh my God. This pity party is ridiculous,” Evan yelled, surprising them all into silence. Evan didn’t yell or argue. Evan got along with everyone.

  Reid said slowly, “Evan, I don’t think—”

  “No, no. I’m done.” He leaned right in Smith’s face and said in even, distinct words, “The woman who has you drowning in your own tears—and I mean Erin, in case you’re confused—has no idea what crawled up your ass and died. You want to know why she wants her space? Because she’s on her period.”

  Smith blinked “What?”

  “Yes. She’s homesick because apparently when she’s feeling bad, her mom would rub her head or stomach or something. And she’s too embarrassed to tell you about it, because you always seem to see her when she’s a crying mess. You know how I know that, dipshit?”

  Reid put a hand on his arm, but Evan yanked it away and poked Smith in the chest. “I. Asked. Her.”

  Cash blew out a breath. “Oh boy.”

  Evan wasn’t done. “Yes, that’s right. I had a fucking conversation with your girlfriend. I went to her apartment and spoke like a mature, civilized person—one in a relationship—might. I didn’t mope and moan and make everyone else miserable because I don’t know how to have a fucking conversation with a woman!”

  “Oh my God. Evan, I want to be you when I grow up!” Cash held up his hand for a high-five.

  Evan glared at him. “Shut up.” Then he slapped Cash’s hand.

  Smith didn’t understand. “She’s not leaving me?”

  “Who knows?” Evan shrugged. “She might. She might not. But how the hell would you know? You just assumed when a five-minute conversation would have made this hissy unnecessary.”

  “But…I don’t…” He didn’t understand. Everything felt fuzzy, and he started to ache all over.

  “It wasn’t just Erin, Evan,” Reid said quietly. “It’s all of if it, isn’t it, Smith? Finding out about your mom, our mom, Erin, almost losing Tilly, the mess with Meg over Allen. You’ve had a rocky few weeks.”

  “I-I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I feel sick.”

  “Concussion?” Reid asked, sounding concerned.

  “Who the hell knows with this dick?” Cash sighed. “Cut him loose, and we’ll take him to the ER. And Evan, no telling Erin about any of this. Our boy needs to grow up, but she doesn’t need to see it.”

  “Um, yeah. Good point,” Reid agreed. “Come on. We’ll take your SUV, Cash.”

  “Why mine?”

  Evan snorted. “Because Reid and I don’t want him puking in ours.”

  By Thursday, four days after Erin had dealt with the hangover from hell, Erin had no idea what to make of Smith being so distant. She’d needed her space, yes, but he acted as if he couldn’t bear to be around her. Perhaps Evan had shared their conversation and made Smith uncomfortable? Heck, she’d embarrassed herself when she’d blurted the truth, but she’d felt comfortable confiding in Evan, for some reason.

  She could have found out what bothered Smith but hadn’t wanted to intrude.

  Oh hell, that was a lie. She wanted to intrude, but she’d seen his brothers swing by to get him, and she hadn’t wanted to interfere, not when she knew how difficult that relationship was for Smith.

  But a girl could only take so much. She’d done a lot of soul searching. She’d even met with Cody again, talking to him bluntly and asking
him pointed questions about their relationship.

  She’d learned more than she’d imagined.

  Yes, Cody had been more to blame than Erin for their failed relationship. But she’d learned what she would give and what she wouldn’t in order to have love in her life. She had nothing to prove to anyone here. In Seattle, Erin could become anyone she wanted to be. Shy, daring, quiet, loud. No one had preconceived notions of her, and in a city this size, no one cared what she did, which she found liberating.

  She’d talked to her mother, her father, her sister. She’d called friends and talked to them as well. Many of them, Jacinda, Kayla, Anna, were already married and had intriguing insights into things they’d do differently or the same after years with their husbands. But the single ones had an attitude she used to have, that need to marry and fit in and have babies. Not Erin. She still wanted to find love. Someday she’d have children.

  But for now, she wanted to enjoy being in her mid-twenties, to go after her career. And dang it, to have more of those amazing orgasms and post-sex cuddles. She wanted Smith.

  She intended to have him.

  She just had to find him first. So she called Jordan and Naomi and even talked to Kenzie, finally triangulating Smith’s whereabouts. The avoider was at work and would be returning to his apartment in a few hours. Which gave her enough time to prepare…

  * * *

  When Smith walked into his apartment two and a half hours later, he froze.

  Erin waited for him to take a few more steps before sliding behind him to lock the door.

  He turned, jumpy as a cat, and blinked at her.

  She frowned. “Are those bruises?”

  He had a few purple marks on his cheeks and an eye that looked like a bag of skittles had vomited color all over it.

  “A few.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He stared at her with an intensity she found unnerving. “Maybe.” He looked nervous. “Are you okay?” He glanced at her tummy and she knew Evan had told him about her time of the month. Which fortunately had ended that morning.

  Erin flushed. “I’m better now, thanks.”