SIN FOR YOU: ROCKTOWN INK, BOOK TWO

by Gray, Sherilee

  “Of course it’s about me,” I fired back at him. He didn’t want to hurt me, he didn’t want to say it, and that’s exactly why I was pushing. Bull would do anything to save me from pain, even when he was dumping me. “Say it,” I whispered, bracing for his rejection.

  I’d known this was coming, hadn’t I? This was always going to happen. Even from the first night we spent together, deep down I knew this was how it would end.

  How else could it end?

  The muscles in his arms flexed like he’d clenched his fists even tighter, and his eyes locked on mine, so soft, so full of tenderness. “You sure you want that, sweets?” he rumbled into the silence. “You sure you’re ready to hear it…what I want? What I’m feeling right now?” He thumped his closed fist against his chest. “In here…for you.”

  I froze up, cold sweat coating my body, my belly churning. No, he didn’t mean…he couldn’t mean…

  He shook his head, those soft eyes getting even softer. “Didn’t think so.”

  I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I didn’t have the words. Whatever he thought he was feeling, he was right—I wasn’t ready to hear it.

  Bull stared at me, jaw working, then moved toward me. When he was in front of me, he cupped the side of my face. “It’s okay, baby.” He leaned in and kissed my temple. “You don’t need to say anything.”

  My frozen heart shattered at the sweet, broken way he said that, at the gentle way he was looking at me.

  I hated that the prominent emotion I felt right then was—fear. So much fear. And regret, that I might be hurting Bull, that I didn’t know how to give him more. That idea of trying, almost sent me into a full-blown panic attack.

  And God, I hated Bevan, for breaking more than just my heart.

  I bit back a sob, pulled away from him, and ran out, fighting the tears that wanted to flow with every bit of strength I had left in me.

  * * *

  Bull

  Being drunk for three days straight was exactly what I needed. I’d barely thought about Quinn at all. Only before I went to sleep…okay, passed out, whatever. When I woke up and stumbled out of my cabin to take a piss. Then the rest of the day. Oh yeah, and I dreamed about her as well, so when I was asleep.

  And when I wasn’t thinking about her, I was looking at that picture she sent me, but it wasn’t her beautiful body that had me opening that photo time and again. It was her eyes, the way she was looking into the camera, like she was looking right at me.

  I missed the feel of her eyes on me.

  I was totally fucked.

  I shouldn’t have come out in the boat today, because being out here just brought back memories as well.

  I groaned and stared up at the clear sky.

  After she’d run out of my room at Cal and Cassy’s, looking at me in a way I never wanted to see again, I’d waited a twenty minutes and left as well.

  Then I’d gone fishing, and I’d stayed out here, either sleeping in my hunting cabin or on my boat, and I didn’t have any plans of going back anytime soon.

  Because Quinn had been right, not only about cooling things down, but about it being too hard. I’d made it hard for her.

  I’d seen the way she was with Laney at the bar, how it had affected her, how deep her own wounds still were.

  Quinn wasn’t ready for what I wanted, and I couldn’t be with her and not have all of her, not anymore. But the biggest thing was that she was still hurting badly, and my wanting—shit, demanding—more from her, something she wasn’t capable of giving at that moment, had just made it worse and had hurt her.

  I’d rather be without her and suffer the hell of that for the rest of my life than cause her any kind of pain.

  Christ, she’d been ready to marry another man a short time ago. For all I knew she was still in love with the prick. The last thing she needed was me pushing for something she couldn’t give.

  I sure as hell refused to drag her down with me.

  She saw it, Mase saw it, everyone saw it. Even if she was ready to move on, which she wasn’t, I wasn’t the right man for her. I was an ex-drug dealer, ex-con, and an ex-fucking screwup.

  You’re still screwing up.

  Yep, I was.

  So I was doing what I needed to, going cold turkey, fighting my addiction to Quinn the only way I knew how: by staying out here on my boat until I could breathe without feeling like my lungs were filled with concrete, when my chest cavity didn’t feel like it had been kicked in repeatedly by fucking Bigfoot.

  And when I could see her, walk past her, look at her, and not want to throw myself in front of an oncoming truck.

  Which meant that, yeah, I wasn’t heading back anytime soon.

  Water lapped at the side of the boat, the shore so far in the distance I couldn’t see anything but a blur of color, the town framed by pines and snow-covered mountains.

  Yep, I was good out here, thanks very much, where I was the only person who existed. I took a swig out of my bottle of Jameson, finishing it off. I tossed it with the others then flung an arm out, hunting around for another one.

  My phone started ringing for the millionth time. I didn’t know why I kept it on.

  Maybe it was Quinn? I doubted it. And even if it was, I wasn’t ready to hear her voice. I sure as fuck didn’t want to talk to her while I was like this. I was lucid enough to know I wasn’t fit for any type of intelligent or even coherent conversation.

  I’d probably confess my undying love and beg her to love me back. I shook my head in disgust.

  I checked my phone anyway. But it wasn’t Quinn, or Cal or Dane.

  It was my mother.

  And given my levels of self-loathing in that moment, she was exactly who I needed to talk to. If anyone would confirm what a waste of space I was, it was my mom. So instead of ignoring it, I answered.

  “Missing me?” I reached over to the half-full bottle of Jack I spied under a seat, held it between my knees, and opened it with one hand.

  There was a long silence. “You haven’t called in a while. I thought I should remind you that you have a mother,” she said, tone defensive.

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten, Ma. I remember every time I look at my bank statements and add up all those payments I send your way.”

  “Logan, why are you being like this?” she said, faking shock and horror, pretending her feelings were injured. Pretending she had feelings at all. “I’m your mother, your family. Since when is it wrong to help family?”

  “It’s not, and I’d give the shirt off my back to Cal or Dane any day of the week.”

  More silence. “Where’s your damned loyalty? I brought you into this world—”

  “And then you threw me away.”

  “You were a difficult child and I was—”

  “Drunk.”

  There was a long pause. “You were demanding and ungrateful and I couldn’t take it anymore,” she hissed. “Unlovable is what you are. In the end, I couldn’t stand the goddamned sight of you.”

  And there it was, exactly what I needed to hear. “I can always count on you to give me the truth, huh, Mom?”

  She was quiet again. I’d shocked her, or she was regretting losing her temper, worried I’d cut her off. “You won’t stop sending us money, will you, Logan?”

  Bingo. I laughed. “You may not be able to stomach the sight of me, but you like my money just fine.”

  “You think you’re better than us? You’re drinking right now, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re talking. You’re no better than me. You’re alone and drunk right now, aren’t you, Bull?”

  I swallowed painfully.

  “You think I’m nothing? Take a look in the mirror, boy—”

  I ended the call and stumbled to my feet. “Fuck.” I fisted my hair. “Fuck,” I roared again and tossed the bottle in my hand overboard.

  Then I slumped back down because I had nowhere to go and there was nothing I could do.

  Unlovable.

  Sounded about righ
t.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bull

  So this was what death warmed up felt like.

  My heart was beating somehow, the traitorous organ in my chest still pumping blood through my extremities even while the rest of me felt cold like a corpse.

  I watched Quinn move through the bar, smiling, laughing with the other waitstaff, with the customers, and like every day she’d come into work for the last seven days since I came back from my extended fishing trip—okay, yeah, my fucking drunken pity party for one—I noticed the happy didn’t reach her eyes.

  She’d cautiously smiled at me when she’d walked in that first day I was back, greeting me before her shift started, but not like she used to. There was a wariness there. She was probably afraid I’d suddenly drop to one knee and spontaneously propose to her.

  No, she didn’t look at me like she had before.

  Before I knew what it was like to hold her in my arms.

  It was like it had never happened. Like we never happened.

  And I wanted it back. I craved it so damn much.

  I should be happy. I’d done what I needed to do. It was the right thing to do.

  Then why did it feel put your shoes on the wrong feet, shirt on backward, wearing someone else’s pants wrong?

  Christ, would I have to stand by and watch when she eventually found someone else, some other guy she could love? A man who was good enough for her, who could give her everything she needed, who knew how to look after the people he loved.

  Or worse, watch her pack up her bags and drive back out of Rocktown, but for good this time.

  Fuck, I felt sick to my stomach.

  Either option would destroy me.

  Standing there watching her was only making it worse, because I wanted her. I wanted to kiss her and hold her. I wanted her to be mine, and there was no shutting that part of myself down.

  So I left the bar and went to my office, where I could close myself in and wallow in peace.

  I slumped in the chair behind my desk.

  That’s when I spotted the envelope. My name was written on it in Quinn’s handwriting. I struggled to swallow as I took the folded piece of paper out and opened it, scanning it with my heart lodged in my throat.

  Her notice. She was leaving in two weeks.

  She was doing it. She was going back to Portland.

  I stared down at the letter blindly. My thigh muscles bunched with the need to fly out of my chair, storm out to the bar, and tell her that she wasn’t going any fucking where.

  You can’t have her.

  Quinn didn’t want me, not in the way I wanted her. She wasn’t ready for that.

  And yeah, I was a bad bet.

  My track record was crap. The only thing I’d ever been able to hold on to, to call my own, was this bar.

  My phone rang and I squeezed my eyes shut when I saw who it was.

  Mase.

  I hadn’t talked to him since he told me to keep my friends away from his sister. He’d tried, but I’d been avoiding him. Which was a total dick move.

  “Hey.”

  “You’re alive, then?”

  Nope. Walking dead right here. “Been a lot going on. Sorry.”

  “Yeah, I heard about Dane. Anything I can do?”

  “Not unless you can turn back time.”

  “Fuck,” Mase muttered.

  I shoved my fingers through my hair. “He’s gonna be okay. I’ve got things under control. The charges are getting dropped.”

  Mase cursed again. “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not.” Turned out the boy who Dane beat the fuck out of, the local pastor’s son, had a closet full of skeletons that Dice had managed to dig up, along with some damning proof of the shit he’d been doing.

  If he’d succeeded in his sick fucking plan to hurt Everly, I knew without doubt, she wouldn’t have been his only victim. There was no way to get proof of that, but the drugs he’d tried to use on Everly, the drugs he used himself, that was another story. We had all we needed to blow his world apart. Daddy didn’t want that shit spread about and was willing to drop the charges against Dane to guarantee it.

  Things had a way of coming out, though, didn’t they? That little fucker wasn’t getting away with what he’d done. As soon as Dane was in the clear, everything Dice got was being delivered to the cops. “Might have something for you in a week or two, though,” I said.

  “Shit, okay. Whatever you need.”

  We were both quiet for several long seconds.

  Mase cleared his throat. “So I’ve been acting like an asshole,” he muttered. “Drowning my feelings in drink and treating my friends and family like shit. I’m sorry, man, for what I said to you.”

  I knew the feeling. Controlling the urge to lose myself in a bottle the last week had been hard to resist, but after talking to my mother I was fucking determined to.

  “Nah, you were right.”

  “Yeah? Which part of my drunken rant?”

  “I should’ve taken better care of Quinn.” I swallowed hard. “You don’t have to worry about any of the Ramblers going near her.”

  “That was a shitty thing for me to say. First, Quinn doesn’t need me to act like the overprotective big brother. She knows what she’s doing. I trust her judgment. Being dumped sucks, bad. Quinn’s already been through it, more than once…and I just, I hated the thought of her going through this hell again.” He sighed. “I was wrong to put that on you.”

  Now I felt like an even bigger asshole.

  “She still seeing the same guy? She’s not mentioned anyone the last few times we’ve talked.”

  I cleared my throat. “No. They’re through.”

  “She okay?”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t serious.”

  Yep, going to be sick.

  “You know, I kind of thought you and her would get together while she was home,” he said all casual, like it was no big deal.

  “What?” I choked.

  Mase chuckled. “You two always seemed to have this…I don’t know, connection. I know how protective you are of her.” A muffled voice came through in the background, and Mase said something in return but I barely heard it, still in shock.

  “She could do a lot better than me,” I heard myself rasp.

  “Why do you always say shit like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Jesus, Bull, you need to get that shit from your mother out of your head. She’s a nasty drunk and a crappy mother. The only thing coming out of her mouth is fucking noise.” More muffled sounds came through the line. The sounds of the PD in the background. “Yeah, you’ve made some bad decisions in the past, but for the right reasons: your family. Hell, I’m not spotless. Only you got caught. That doesn’t change who you are. After the losers Quinn’s dated, you’d be a fucking prince.”

  I choked out a laugh. “Was that meant to be a compliment?”

  Mase laughed. “Yeah. Don’t want your head getting too big.” His laughter died down. “Christ, Logan, I’d be fucking over the moon if you dated my sister.”

  “You know, don’t you?” I forced out.

  “Yeah, dickhead, I know. It took me a minute. I had to remove my head from my ass and sober up to work it out, but you two weren’t fooling anyone.”

  My heart was racing. “You’re not pissed?”

  “Why the fuck would I be pissed?”

  “Because we hid it from you.”

  “It wasn’t my business.”

  I sat there, stunned. “Well, it’s too late now. I…fuck, I ended it. I thought—”

  “I know what you thought, and you’re wrong. Maybe you should try and fix it.”

  Someone said something in the background again. “I have to go. Talk soon, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And, Bull? If you love her, if you think she feels the same way, find a way to make it right.” Then he disconnected.

  I sat there for a long time after Mase hung up, the same words spinning around
my scull.

  If you think she feels the same way.

  That was the kicker, because she didn’t.

  She didn’t feel the same way.

  There was a rap at the door a second before Dane walked in. He took one look at me and frowned. “Why so glum?” He took the seat across from me. “I’m the one who might still get locked up. You should be fucking beaming, not having to look out for my sorry ass for at least a year.”

  “Don’t,” I growled.

  Dane’s brown eyes shot to me.

  “And you won’t. I told you, it’s sorted. And don’t joke about this shit. I know it’s your way of coping, but, fuck, Dane, do not bottle it up. Talk to me. I can help you.”

  He sat forward, head dipped, and rubbed his hands over his head. “Seems all you’ve been doing since I came home is try and help me, you and Cal bailing me out of the shit I get myself into.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for that. I don’t…I don’t give a fuck what happens to me a lot of the time, and I forget how it affects everyone around me.” He lifted his head, gaze coming to me, throat working. “Everly…she won’t talk to me. I’ve lost her.”

  Shit. Sometimes I thought she was the only thing holding Dane down, stopping him from fucking floating away, self-destructing, from Cal and me losing him completely.

  “She just needs some time, that’s all.”

  “I scared her,” he said, voice wrecked. “She’s the most important person in my world, and now she’s afraid of me. I was supposed to protect her, all I wanted was to protect her, and now…” He shook his head. “I’ve lost her.”

  I stood and rounded the desk, pulling my younger cousin from his chair and wrapping him in my arms. He let me. “You haven’t lost her. You’ll get through this. And then you’ll make it right.”

  Dane pulled away. “Yeah,” he said unconvincingly, and then looked me in the eyes. “I think…Bull, I’m leaving Rocktown.”

  “What?”

  “It’s for the best.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Dane held my stare. “I need you to not fight me on this.”

  He was as determined as I’d ever seen him. I sighed. “You want to go out to the bar, have a drink, talk about it?”