Steele

by Kelly Gendron

  “Dammit, Steele!” A tiny, middle-aged woman comes storming into the room, wielding a tiny yet mighty fist in the air.

  “I’m fine, Ma. Honest, it’s just a cracked rib, that’s all.” Steele’s hands go out in the air.

  After inspecting her son in the bed, her acute eyes flit around the room like a mama bear accounting for all her cubs. She pauses with a, “Hi, Harley.” Then turns her generous smile onto me. “And you must be Jaylyn?”

  “Ah …” I glance at Steele, but he’s no help with a shrug. “Yes. Hello.” I smile back at the sweet, staunch woman. “You must be Mrs. Kane?”

  “Oh, please, Olivia.” She waves a now dainty hand at me.

  “Olivia.” I smile bigger, clenching my teeth together.

  Her eyes continue their hunt. “Now, what happened to you?” She walks over to Crash and grabs his chin. “Oh, honey.” Her hard tone ebbs.

  “I’m okay, Ma,” he says, and for the first time, I witness his smile. It’s a nice smile, one that could stop a few hearts, and I wonder why he doesn’t use it more often. His eyes lower to the ground. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “That’s not a scratch. They had to stitch your skin back together, Cash Kane.”

  “I know.” He glances at Stone and Token, imploring them for help.

  “Where’s the water, Ma?” Token winks at Crash.

  “I didn’t need it.” She pats Crash’s cheek. “Your brother’s already at the hospital. Listen up.” She spins around and claps her hands together like it’s time for the toddler story time round-up song. “When I stopped by the nurse’s station, I was told that way too many people are in here.” She walks over to the bed, leans down, and brushes her hand over Steele’s forehead before dropping a tender kiss upon it. “You can only have two visitors at a time, my dear.” She pats his cheek and then stands up, straightening her blouse. “And now that I know you’re okay, I’m going to go call your father and get a cup of coffee.” She points. “Boys, it’s time to go.”

  The little bundle of awesomeness starts for the door. After a few deep grunts, the group of grown men obey their fierce mama bear and follow her. I fall into step with them, skidding in line between Harley and Stone, ready to get out of here.

  “No, not you,” Steele calls out. The only two people left in the room, Stone and I, stop.

  Shit!

  With my back to Steele, I look at Stone. “I think he’s talking to you,” I whisper as if Steele can’t hear me.

  Stone’s eyes move from the bed to me. “Clearly, the Man of Steele wants you.” He shakes his head. “He just doesn’t get it.”

  “What?” My interest piqued, I lean in closer. God, the man’s eyes are a replica of Steele’s, cryptic, dark, and mesmerizing.

  He bends down and whispers into my ear. “You’re his Kryptonite.” He smiles and turns back to Steele. “Okay. I’ll git.” He shoves a hand into his pocket, pulls out his keys, and twirls them around his finger. “Need me to bring back anything for ya?”

  “A change of clothes?”

  “Yeah, all right, I think I got a Brittney Spears T-shirt that one of my groupies left behind. It might be a little tight, though.”

  “Seriously, asshole, if you⸻”

  “I’m just fuckin’ with ya. I’ll pop by your place and pick up something.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. See you at six,” he says and passes by me, whispering under his breath, “You’re up.”

  I don’t want to be up. I wanted to check on him and leave, and that’s it.

  “Jay.” Steele’s voice swoops through my motionless body. “Turn around.” He pauses. “Please, Jay.” His words curve soft and tender kind of like they did the other night when he was inside me, stealing my world away. “Come here.”

  I press my lips together and clench my hands. I can’t look at him. If I do, it’ll be all over. I must get out before my damn heart, damaged and all, kicks me across the room, closer to him and not further away. I need to put some serious distance between us, like a couple of thousand miles or more. “I really have to go.” My eyes start to burn. My chest heavy and full. Palms wet and cold. “I need to pack so I can catch my flight back to Chicago tonight.”

  “You’re leaving? Tonight? Why?”

  The desperation in his words tighten my balled fists, and my nails break the skin. “The job is done. It’s time for me to go.”

  “Come over here.” His stern voice echoes in the room. “Jaylyn Rigsby, do you want me to get out of this bed?”

  “That depends.” I peer over my shoulder to find his dark eyes bearing down on me and smile. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Really?” he growls. “It’s just a cracked rib. Like I said, nothing serious. What the fuck?” He sits up in the bed, face crumpling. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Please, Jay, just come over here so we can talk.”

  Weakened by the desperation in his eyes and the gentleness of his tone, my pathetic heart gives in. Too easily, my body moves over to him, completely aware of the hollowness inside me and that deep hole of loneliness only he can fill. Because I have fallen for him, for a man whose job is to throw himself into the bowels of danger. Who willingly stares the devil in the face. Whose life is fed by dares. I’ve fallen for another man who will undoubtedly leave me way too early by death’s pandemic hand.

  He grabs my arm and pulls me to the edge of the bed, closer to him. His eyes bore into me. It’s silent for a few seconds; long enough for me to doubt myself a hundred times over.

  “Jay.” He looks down at our now joined hands. His warm, gentle fingers lightly brush over mine. “I’m okay.”

  “Yes. Today, you’re okay.” I try to pull my hand away, but his grip tightens.

  “Stay,” he says, the strength of his plea depicted in his firm hold.

  “Why? What are we going to do? You live here. I live in Chicago. What, Steele?” I give my hand another yank, and he releases me. “Why would I stay?” I take a deep breath, my warm hand balling at my side.

  “I don’t fucking know. Maybe we can see where this goes. I’m not asking for us to move in together, get married, or have kids but⸻”

  “Married? Kids? No!” I shake my hands at the thought he shoved into my head. I step back, trying to abolish all the life destroying feelings from a few years ago as they attempt to resurface. “I can’t do it. My heart is barely fixed. You can’t have it. I can’t risk another break.”

  “I won’t hurt you, Jaylyn,” he says, the look on his face determined and sincere.

  “You already have.” My voice cracks, and I swipe a hot tear from my burning eyes.

  “You can’t do this forever. You need to move on. You need to let someone love you again.”

  “I will.” I brush another tear from my cheek. “It just can’t be you.”

  “Why?” His eyes glisten with confusion and hurt.

  He’s killing me. I turn away from him. “I have to leave.” I start for the door.

  “Wait.” I hear him shuffling in the bed.

  “Steele!” Mrs. Kane comes running into the room, juggling two cups of coffee. “Get your ass back in bed, mister!”

  “Jaylyn.” He stresses my name once more, and I stop. His mother sets the coffees on the table by the bed and guides Steele back toward the bed.

  “I really must go.” I nod at Mrs. Kane. “It was nice to meet you, Olivia.”

  “Likewise, dear.” She tosses me a smile, pushing Steele down onto the mattress.

  “Jaylyn Rigsby”—he points at me around his mother’s small figure—“in this damn hospital gown will not be the last time you ever see me.”

  “Bye, Steele.” I wave at him with a tight grin.

  I clear the door and hear him call out, “This isn’t over!”

  Oh, but it is …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  STEELE

  “I’m heading out for the day,” Crash says t
o Jaggs, who’s bent inside the hood of a red Porsche that probably has a few other names after it like Boxster or Cayman. She pops her head up, grease smudged across her pale cheek. Her bright violet eyes flash to us. Aside from the blackish purple spiky hair and tomboy outfits, she really is a pretty girl. I don’t understand why Crash isn’t sleeping with her. At least, that’s the impression he leaves without saying the words. Hate the quiet him. I think Jaggs is the only person he talks to now, so they must get along. Why else would she hang out with him? Can’t be just to learn about cars.

  “’Kay, I’ll lock up,” she calls out, waving some tool.

  Crash and I head for the door. He thrusts out a mechanic-scarred hand. “I’m driving.”

  “I can drive.” I bump his shoulder, wincing from the immediate pain in my side. “Shit!”

  “Yeah, right.” He snorts. “You’re injured.”

  “Yeah, right.” I snort back. “And your driving is what got me injured. So, I think it’d be safe to say⸻”

  “Fuck you.” Crash pushes through the door. “I’m driving.” He opens and closes his palm. “Come on, give ’em to me.”

  “You always drive. What the fuck, dude?” Not about to win this battle, I drop the keys in his hand.

  “Quit your cryin’ and get in the car.”

  “I’m not cryin’, just stating a fact⸻” I stop, realizing the little shit can’t hear me any longer. He just closed the car door. As I crawl in the passenger side, I’m glad he’s driving, though. My side is killing me.

  I settle into the seat and rest my head back, ready to proceed in complete silence.

  “So Jay went back to Chicago?”

  My eyes pop open surprised, first, by the conversation spark, and second, by the question itself. Crash doesn’t usually get involved with anything unless it’s got something to do with cars. “Yeah, she left a week ago.”

  “When you were in the hospital?”

  “Think so.” I sit up and roll my neck, rolling the lie from my head. There’s no doubt about it; that’s what happened. She got on the plane and took off. I don’t know what hurts more—the fact that she left while I was still lying in a hospital bed, or that she hasn’t reached out to see how I’m doing.

  “I like her,” Crash says, rousing me for a second from my thoughts.

  “Me too.” I turn to look out the window, paying no heed to the passing cars, trees, houses, or anything else that flashes by my eyes. My mind’s back on Jay. All I see is her. She’s been in my head, chipping away my ability to concentrate or think about anything other than her. Her bright blue eyes, beautiful smile, her smell, the taste of her lips, and the way she feels inside my arms as if our bodies were carved to fit together perfectly. It’s fucking me up. I gotta stop it. I need to forget about her ’cause she’s obviously forgotten about me.

  “So that’s it?”

  “What?” I look at Crash. His expression flat, eyes focused on the road ahead.

  “You’re gonna let her go?”

  “I don’t know.” I rub a hand over my head. “The dude she was with, when he died, it fucked her up. I don’t think she’s ready. Stone tried to warn me.”

  “Stone?”

  “Yeah, he’s close friends with a widow, the wife of one of his Army buddies. Shit! I don’t know what to do.” I drop my arm back onto the edge of the car door, the breeze from the open window helping to cool my heated anger. “Should I call her? Get on a plane and go see her? I’m not even sure if she went back to Chicago. She could have been sent to another location or some shit.”

  “She’s in Chicago.”

  “What?” My eyes missile to his staunch side profile.

  “She called me a few days ago to tell me my contract was at the site. They wanted it before they’d release my check. She asked how you were doing. Told her good, and after some small talk, from my understanding, she’s home for the rest on the month.”

  “Really?” My heart flutters. “She asked how I was?”

  “Yeah.” He parks the car in front of the studio. “Go to Chicago. Go see her, asshole.” He pulls his cell from his pants pocket. His eyes don’t reach mine again, they’re too busy tapping the screen of his cell like he’s done with me and the unexpected conversation. “I gotta make a few calls. Can you get my shit while you’re in there?”

  “Sure.” I get out and close the door. He talked to her, and he didn’t tell me. I’ve been sick thinking she doesn’t care, and she asked about me days ago. I should call her. I don’t know what I’m afraid of.

  “There he is. Mr. Unbreakable,” Kip says as I wander into the large, empty studio room.

  “Oh, I break.” I clutch my left side. “It’s been a week, and this cracked rib still hurts like a mother.” I glance around the room. “It’s a wrap, then, huh?”

  “Yep.” Kips nods. “Just finishing with a couple of quick retakes. What are you doin’ here?”

  “Had to sign a few things. So what’s next?”

  “Fuck”—he blows out—“Bridget’s pushing for some romcom film directed by Mitch Lobo. Thinks I need to switch it up. How ’bout you? Got anything lined up?”

  “I’m looking into a few things but nothing solid yet.” I pause to watch Jessica Gables give Chris a long, lip-locking kiss. Holy shit! He got the girl. Good for him. At least, someone got the girl. I laugh and look back at Kip. “Maybe I’ll take a couple of months off. Let this old body heal a bit.”

  “Shit.” Kip pulls his eyes from the odd couple leaving the room and shakes his head. “You ain’t old.” He nods to me. “Look at Britt Bonner and Richard Durant, they’re still doing it in their late thirties, mid-forties.”

  “Yeah.” Ken steps into the conversation as he walks around the set, clearly looking for something. “But look at Freddie Kendrick paralyzed at the age of thirty-four, or TJ Banks dead at the age of twenty-four.”

  Kip and I both stare at him. He’s such an asshole. I shake my head; better to leave well enough alone and get what I need from the dickhead. “Hey, I have to pick up some contract Jay left here for Crash. Any idea where it might be?”

  “Ask Jenni; she’s still here doing paperwork up on the second floor,” Ken says, still sweeping the room.

  “Thanks,” I reply with a trying grin.

  “So you and Jay?” Kip smiles, nodding his head. “What’s up with that? Anything going on there?”

  “Shit, nothin’.” I rub my hair again. “Didn’t you hear, she’s back in Chicago.”

  “Yeah,” Ken says, again inviting himself into our conversation as he picks up a harness from a chair. “I was surprised you even tried to go out with her.”

  “What? You think because she worked for the insurance company that that’d detour our boy here?” Kip thumbs at me with a chuckle.

  “Well, there’s that, but no, I figured you’d realize she wouldn’t be interested in you, ya know, considering your job and all. Wait.” He stops and takes a harder look at me. “You don’t know who she is?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” My body tenses, fists ball, preparing to smash the fucker in the face. He thinks he knows Jay better than I do. He thinks he’s got something on her. I step forward.

  “Oh, man. I thought …” His hand lifts. His cocky tone wanes as he turns to Kip. “What about you?”

  “No!” Kip’s shoulders rise. “I didn’t know about one eyebrow camera guy and the bitchy makeup artist, and I’ve been working with them for the past few months.” He throws out his hands. “So who the fuck is she?”

  Ken looks at me, and not only does his voice change, but his arrogant attitude ebbs as well. There’s a glint of compassion in his eyes. “She was TJ Banks’ girl.”

  “TJ Banks’ girl?” Kip repeats what Ken just said, and I’m thankful for it. I needed to hear it a second time. I needed Kip’s confirmation that I didn’t imagine it.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Makes no sense. She can’t be. They were mar
ried, and she was⸻” I stumble back.

  “Pregnant,” Ken finishes for me, nodding his head. “Yeah, it’s her. I know. I was on the set at the time, and that girl was showing. She was about six or seven months along. You’re right, though. They were engaged when he died, not married.” He glances at Kip. “She was there when it happened.”

  “Where? When he … the accident?” Kip asks, representing my voice for I can’t find mine, too busy trying to figure out how I’m still standing. I’m numb from the toes up.

  Ken nods. “She saw the whole thing.”

  A steady flow of fucked-up questions bombards my brain. Where’s the fucking baby? It’d be around three years old now. Where is it? Why didn’t she tell me about it? Fuck, Trevor and TJ Banks are one and the same? That’s why it’d never be me. That’s why she won’t let it be me. That’s why she won’t let herself fall in love with me.

  I never had a winning chance.

  In her eyes, I’m just another Trevor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Are you sure?” Wendy smiles up at me from her desk. “Come on, just for a couple.”

  “Okay, a couple, but then I need to go home and get some sleep. All this paperwork is making my eyes burn.” It’ll be good for me to go out for a drink after work, have some laughs with the girls and clear my head.

  It’s been three weeks since I last saw Steele Kane, and I miss him so much. I keep thinking I should’ve taken him up on his offer sooner. I should’ve kissed him earlier. I should’ve trusted him a little more. I should’ve taken advantage of every minute I had with him. I regret that the most. I had him in my hands, but the second I had him in my heart, I ran.

  I didn’t lie to him. He helped me. Seeing Trevor’s Dad helped as well. He reminded me of the kind of person Trev was, and that he would want me to move on and find happiness. I’ll always love Trevor. He’ll forever own a piece of my heart, but Steele proved to me that there’s enough of it to share with someone else. I wish it could be him, but I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I lost him like I lost Trevor. I know there’s no guarantee in life for anyone, but when someone deliberately throws their life in front of death’s door on a regular basis, it ups the ante.