Things We Never Got Over

by Lucy Score

  “I still don’t know if I would have made the right choice if Tina hadn’t called me and said she was in trouble. That’s when I knew I wasn’t going to go through with it.”

  After everything Tina had done, at least she’d provided the excuse Naomi needed when she needed it.

  “Daisy, you gave him a choice. It doesn’t matter how shitty the options are. It’s still his choice to make. He could spend the rest of his life with you or without you. He didn’t give you a choice when he hurt you.”

  “But I should have listened to what he was trying to tell me. He didn’t want to commit, and I forced him to.”

  “He had a choice,” I repeated. “Look. A man doesn’t go all in with a woman, it’s for a reason. Maybe he’s looking for something better. Maybe he’s just comfortable with his place in your world and doesn’t want to make a place for you in his. Either way, he makes no forward progress unless he’s forced into it.

  “After that, even if he pops the question, even if he shows up at the altar, he’ll hold on to the fact that it wasn’t his idea. He washes his hands of responsibility for the entire relationship. But the bottom fucking line is, he had a choice every step of the way. You didn’t force him into anything.”

  She looked down. “He never thought I was good enough for him.”

  “Baby, truth is, on his best day, he was never gonna be good enough for you, and he fucking knew it.”

  So he’d manipulated her and he’d tried to prove he was better by showing he was stronger, more powerful. By using force. And it only would have gotten worse.

  “Damn it, Knox. You cannot be sweet to me right now!”

  “Do not cry. Do not shed one more tear over some asshole who never deserved you in the first place. Or I’m going to go break both his arms and legs.”

  She cast her eyes down then looked back up at me. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here. For…taking care of me and cleaning up my mess. It really means a lot.”

  I thumbed away another stray tear. “What did I say about crying?”

  “That one was for you, not him.”

  Instead of hunting Warner down and kicking him in the gut until my boot wore through, I did something more important. I lowered my mouth to take hers.

  She instantly went soft and pliable against me. Surrendering. I spun us around so she had her back to the door.

  “Knox?” she whispered.

  Then I pressed my knee between her thighs and pinned her against the door with my hips as I plundered her mouth. She melted against me, eager and needy.

  I was instantly hard.

  The sexy little moan she made in the back of her throat when I ground my erection against her made me lose my fucking mind. I licked and kissed and tasted her until the air around us was electrified, until the pulse in my blood matched the beat of her heart.

  I pumped my cock against her once, twice, three times, before shoving my hand between our bodies and under that skirt that I loved to hate.

  When I found the silk edge of her underwear, I growled. I knew just by the touch it was one of the pairs I’d bought her. And I loved knowing she wore something I gave her close to her skin in a place I’d be the only one to see.

  “He doesn’t deserve one second of your energy. Never did,” I said, yanking the underwear to the side with more haste than finesse.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes glazed with desire.

  “Reminding you what you deserve.”

  I thrust two fingers into her wet heat and swallowed her cry with my mouth. She was already rippling around me, begging to come. “Do you want me to stop?” My voice was harsher than I intended, but I couldn’t be soft, gentle, when she was making me harder than concrete.

  “If you stop, I’ll murder you,” she groaned.

  “That’s my girl,” I said, nipping at the sensitive skin of her neck.

  I fucked her with my fingers, starting slow and building speed. I held her gaze with an obsessive desire to watch the orgasm I gave her ruin her. But I needed something more. I needed to taste her.

  She whimpered when I dropped to my knees. The whimper became a low moan when I pressed my mouth between her legs.

  “Ride my hand, Naomi. Ride it while I make you come. Remember who you are. What you deserve.”

  It was the last order I gave, because my tongue was busy teasing circles over her sensitive clit. She tasted like heaven as she bucked against my face.

  My dick throbbed behind my zipper with a need so intense I didn’t recognize it. Mine. I wanted to claim her, to make her mine so assholes knew they didn’t have a chance.

  “Knox,” she whimpered, and I felt the clutch and pull of her around my fingers. It was fucking beautiful.

  “That’s right, baby,” I murmured. “Feel me in you.”

  I sucked gently while working the swollen bud with my tongue.

  She let out a wrenching moan, and I felt her come apart around my fingers. She was a miracle. A work of art. And no one deserved her. Not Warner. Not even me.

  But not deserving something wasn’t going to stop me from taking.

  The waves broke. The clenching became a languid flutter, and still my cock ached. I wanted to thrust into her and feel the echoes of her orgasm on my shaft.

  Then she was pulling me to my feet, and her fingers were at my belt. My palms went to the door as she reverently released my erection, and she sank to her knees.

  “You don’t have to do this, Naomi.” My whisper was harsh with need.

  “I want to.”

  Her lips were parted. I felt her hot breath on my thigh, and my cock jerked. She made an approving noise, and before I could say or do anything, those perfect pink lips were parting, and my tip disappeared between them.

  It was like a lightning strike.

  My last coherent thought was that the only thing that saved Warner Fuckface from the beating of his life was Naomi’s perfect mouth on my cock.

  THIRTY-SIX

  THE BREAK-IN

  Knox

  Nash yawned and scraped a hand over his face. He was sitting at his dining table in sweat pants. His usually clean-shaven mug had the beginnings of a beard.

  “Look, I told you. I don’t remember jack shit from the shooting. I don’t even remember pulling the car over.”

  It was after two a.m., and Lucian had insisted we put our heads together on the situations.

  I flipped my phone over to see if Naomi had texted me yet. She was supposed to text as soon as she got home. After the night she’d had, I felt unsettled letting her drive home by herself. But Lucian was insistent that we needed to talk to Nash.

  “Is that normal? Not remembering?” I asked.

  Nash shrugged with his good shoulder. “How the fuck should I know? This is the first time I got shot.”

  He was being flippant, but there were shadows under his eyes that had nothing to do with the time of night.

  Lucian, on the other hand, looked as if he was just hitting his stride. He was in what was left of another expensive suit. His tie and jacket hung over the back of Nash’s couch. Even as a kid, he’d slept short and light. Every sleepover we’d ever had, he’d been the last to fall asleep and the first to wake. We never talked about what demons kept him up at night. We didn’t have to.

  “We need the dashcam footage,” Lucian said. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

  My brother was already shaking his head. “Fuck you, Luce. You know I can’t do that. It’s evidence in an ongoing investigation. I know law and order don’t mean much to you two—”

  “We’ve got the same goal. Finding out who the fuck decided to put two bullets in you and leave you for dead,” I interjected. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be pissed off about the extra eyes and ears.” I flipped my phone over again.

  No messages.

  “What’s your problem?” Nash asked, nodding at my phone. “Liza J kicking your ass in Words wi
th Friends again?”

  “Naomi isn’t home yet.”

  “It’s a five-minute drive,” Nash pointed out.

  Lucian looked at me. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Naomi’s ex showed up at Honky Tonk tonight. Put his hands on her. Scared her.”

  “Jesus. Where did you put the body?”

  Lucian smiled slyly. “You don’t want to know.”

  Nash pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t want this paperwork.”

  “Relax,” I said. “He’s not dead. But if he ever shows his goddamn face in this town again, I make no promises.”

  “Knox gave him the first shot in front of witnesses,” Lucian explained.

  “What else did he do in front of witnesses? Break his fucking neck?”

  “Just the idiot’s nose. I escorted him out into the parking lot and helped him understand if he ever came within a hundred miles of Naomi again, my lawyer was going to make it his personal mission to bankrupt him, his family, and his family’s business.”

  “Luce also smashed his face against the kitchen door,” I added cheerfully, wanting to give credit where credit was due.

  My brother picked up the untouched bourbon Lucian had put in front of him and downed it. “Goddammit. I hate being left out of shit.”

  “You didn’t miss much,” I told him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Nash demanded, looking at me.

  “I’m staring at you two pains in my ass.”

  “What the hell are you doing here staring at us when you should be home with her? She’s probably messed up over the whole thing. Scared. Embarrassed. Worried about how it’s gonna look in a guardianship hearing. This on top of the Tina shit is the last thing she needs.”

  I didn’t like how well my brother knew Naomi.

  “She’s fine. We talked it out. I’m heading to her place as soon as you get your head out of your ass and hand over the dashcam footage.”

  “What Tina shit?” Lucian asked.

  Nash was filling him in on the details of Tina’s break-ins when my phone rang. I all but vaulted out of my seat to answer it.

  “About damn time, Daisy.”

  “Knox?” The way she said my name had my hackles rising.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, already grabbing my car keys.

  Nash and Lucian were on their feet too.

  “Someone was here. Someone broke in. It’s a mess. It’s going to take me forever to clean this up.”

  “Get out of the house,” I snarled.

  Lucian was shrugging into his jacket, and Nash was doing his best to pull a shirt on over his sweats. I tossed him his sneakers.

  “They’re not here. I checked,” Naomi said in my ear.

  “We’re gonna have words about that,” I assured her grimly. “Now get back in your fucking car, lock the fucking doors, and drive to Liza’s. Do not get out of your fucking car until your dad comes out to get you.”

  “Knox, it’s the middle of the night—”

  “I don’t give a shit if it’s the middle of his colonoscopy. Get in the car now. I’m hanging up and I want you to call Nash. Stay on the line with him while I call your dad.”

  “Knox—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Naomi. Get in the damn car.”

  I heard her grumbling under her breath and then the telltale sounds of an ignition starting. “Good girl. Call Nash.”

  I hung up before she could say anything else and scrolled through my contacts to Lou’s number.

  “Cottage?” Nash asked. His phone lit up. Naomi’s name was on it.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll drive Nash,” Lucian said, snatching the keys off the hook by the door.

  “You can’t drive a department vehicle, Luce,” Nash argued.

  “Watch me.”

  “Yeah, Lou?” I said when Naomi’s dad answered. “We got a problem.”

  We came in hot, looking like a high-speed car chase with me in the lead, followed by Lucian and Nash, lights blazing in a Knockemout PD SUV.

  My hands tightened on the wheel when I saw everyone, dogs included, out on Liza’s porch. What part of “stay the fuck inside” didn’t they understand?

  I slammed on my brakes in front of Naomi’s cottage. Lucian slid in next to me.

  I turned to him. “Do me a favor and get everyone inside so they’re not standing around waiting for someone to start picking them off.”

  Wordlessly, Lucian nodded, and melted into the night.

  “Backup’s on the way,” Nash said as we jogged up the porch steps. The screen door was hanging by one hinge, the door beyond it wide open.

  “Naomi said no one’s inside.”

  “And she knows that how?” Nash said, sounding almost as pissed as I felt.

  “Because before she called me, she walked through the house holding a bread knife.”

  “And you’re gonna have words with her about that, right?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re gonna have words.”

  I had to admit, it was kind of nice to have my brother back.

  “Fuck,” I said when we entered.

  “Mess” was an understatement. Couch cushions were thrown on the floor. The desk drawers had all been pulled out, their contents dumped. The coat closet was open, its inventory scattered throughout the living room.

  The kitchen cabinets and drawers had all been gutted. The refrigerator door hung open with half of the food dumped on the linoleum.

  “Someone was pissed off and in a hurry,” Nash observed.

  I started up the steps, trying to keep a lid on my rage. Twice in one night, she’d been violated, and I’d been a step behind each time. I felt…helpless, useless. What good was I if I couldn’t keep her safe?

  I heard my brother on the stairs behind me, his ascent slower than my own.

  Spotting Waylay’s pink comforter in the hallway, I headed into her room. It had fared worse than the first floor. Her new clothes had been ripped from the closet and dresser. The bedding was torn off, the mattress flipped and leaning against the wall. The picture frames that had hung on the walls most of my life were on the floor. Some of them broken.

  “The ex or the sister?” Nash wondered out loud.

  Naomi’s bedroom had been hastily tossed. The bed stripped, the closet open and emptied. The same with the dresser.

  There was a mess of cosmetics on top of the dresser that I doubted Naomi had made. BITCH was scrawled across the mirror in lipstick.

  I was seeing red that had nothing to do with the shade of lipstick.

  “Keep your cool,” Nash advised. “You snapping and going off the rails on a temper tantrum isn’t going to help.”

  We poked into every nook and cranny upstairs, making sure the place was empty. By the time we hit the first floor again, Nash was pale and sweaty, and two more cruisers had pulled in.

  The surrounding woods were painted blue and red from the emergency lights.

  I went out on the front porch to force fresh air into my lungs so I could choke down the rising anger.

  I spotted her, standing in the dirt lane still dressed in her work uniform with one of my grandfather’s old flannel shirts layered on top. Waylon was leaning against her shins, as protective as a basset hound got.

  I wasn’t even conscious of jogging down the porch steps. I just knew I was being pulled to her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, looking worried.

  I shook my head and wrapped my arms around her.

  She was asking me if I was okay.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT

  Naomi

  “Where are we going?” I asked Knox as we left Knockemout in the rearview mirror.

  “Are we going shopping?” Waylay asked hopefully from the backseat.

  She’d taken the news that we were temporarily moving into Liza J’s well. Of course,
I’d flat-out lied to her, telling her there was a bug problem at the cottage and that we’d be staying with everyone at Liza’s for a few days.

  Waylay was thrilled for the extended sleepover.

  My parents, on the other hand, were struggling. Not with having us all under one roof. That part had them in near ecstasy. But Knox had insisted I spill the truth. The whole truth, beginning with why I’d run out on Warner.

  While my mother wrote a strongly worded message to Warner’s mother on Facebook at four a.m., Knox had to physically restrain my father from leaving to go after Warner.

  Dad calmed down considerably after Lucian assured him that Knox had not only mopped the floor with Warner, he’d also broken the man’s nose.

  The truth hurt, as I’d expected it to, which was why I hadn’t shared in the first place. But my parents had stood up under its weight.

  Over Mom’s anxiety pancakes, we’d talked until nearly five a.m. before I’d fallen into bed with Knox in his childhood bedroom. I was certain I’d never be able to sleep, but with his heavy arm anchoring me to his side, I’d fallen into a dreamless oblivion and stayed there until ten.

  When I woke up, I was alone because Knox had driven into town to pick up Waylay from her sleepover.

  I’d taken my gigantic vat of coffee on the front porch and waited for them, thinking about how the man just kept blurring the lines of our agreement. And when they returned, when Knox put his hand on top of Waylay’s blonde head, ruffled her hair, and gave her an affectionate shove.

  I realized just how blurry those lines in my heart were getting. I was in trouble. And it had nothing to do with a break-in or a criminal sister or an ex-fiancé.

  I was falling for the man I’d sworn I wouldn’t. But Knox made it impossible not to. He made it inevitable.

  Unfortunately, at that moment, the caseworker had shown up ready to do the home study that I’d completely forgotten about. I was not imagining the look of surprise on Mrs. Suarez’s face when I tried to herd Waylay into Liza’s house while issuing a vague excuse as to why we were unprepared for her visit.