Sweet Chaos (Love & Chaos Book 2)

by Emery Rose

  “And I’m sorry to disappoint you, I will never be Sienna. For better or worse, I make my own choices and the size of someone’s bank account doesn’t impress me. Not to mention that this is not the eighteenth century so arranged marriages are not really a thing anymore.”

  My mother sighed loudly. “Why must you always be so difficult?”

  “I need to get back to work,” I lied. I was on my lunch break, but she was messing with my vibe which was already less than chilled thanks to the asshole who had crushed my heart. Again. “Goodbye Mom.”

  I cut the call and slumped in my seat, internally screaming.

  “I know you’re not Sienna,” came a low, husky voice behind me. “You’re not a disappointment. Not even fucking close.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the hurt his words had caused, and heard the door close behind him.

  I spun my chair around to face Dylan but didn’t lift my eyes to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He set a Starbucks cup on the desk next to my laptop within easy reach of my right hand. I ignored the peace offering.

  “I might have fucked up the other night.”

  Might have?

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean what I said. You looked beautiful.”

  I let out a harsh laugh and stared at the laptop screen. The words danced in front of my eyes but didn’t register.

  “I don’t like seeing you with someone else,” he said, still trying to explain his behavior.

  “You made that pretty clear.” I gestured to the door, shooing him away. “You can go now.”

  “I had no right to question you.”

  This was starting to feel like a good grovel. I hadn’t thought him capable of that. But we were irrevocably broken and no amount of groveling or chocolates or coffee was going to fix us.

  He came around to my side of the desk and sat on the edge of it, one booted foot planted on the floor, his eyes intently studying my face while mine studiously avoided him. Bad enough that his scent invaded my senses, I didn’t need a visual reminder of the guy I’d vowed to keep at arms-length.

  “Please leave.”

  “Starlet, look at me,” he said softly, and it was that softness in his voice, his words like a plea, that drew my eyes to him and had me taking my first good look at him since he’d walked in the door. Big mistake.

  Scruff on his jaw, his hair all messy and disheveled, in ripped black jeans, combat boots, and a black Pearl Jam T-shirt that said: don’t give up.

  I remember that T-shirt. I remember that he used to love Pearl Jam. When I was fourteen, he told me “Black” was his favorite song. I listened to it on repeat for an entire summer. Pathetic, I know. Just like me.

  Why did he have to look so sexy today? How unfair that I still found him irresistible.

  And here we were again. Close enough to touch, close enough to breathe the same air, close enough to study the tattoos on his veiny forearms. And just like always, my pulse was racing, and my heart was jackhammering in my chest.

  Then I reminded myself of the things he had done and the words he had said, and my need for self-preservation kicked in.

  Shielding myself with invisible armor, I scooted my chair back until it hit the wall. As far away from him as the small office allowed. I needed space and breathing room and I needed answers which was the only reason I hadn’t already walked away.

  “What do you want from me? Why did you show up on Saturday night?”

  “I missed you,” he said simply.

  “Right. You missed me.” I laughed hollowly. “It was just sex. You got what you wanted, and you dumped my ass. So what was that? A booty call?”

  “You thought it was just about sex?” He sounded so incredulous I would have laughed if not for the fact that I didn’t find any of this even remotely funny.

  “How should I know? You don’t talk. You just show up and act like a Neanderthal and say hateful things. Or you call me when you’re drunk and then don’t even remember calling. You said you don’t play games, but this entire thing has felt like one big stupid game. And guess what? I’m done playing your game.”

  Dylan scowled. “It was never a game.”

  “You’re right. Games are fun, and this wasn’t. Your words hurt me. And you… you hurt me, okay?” I wrapped my arms around myself for protection, all my truths spilling from my lips. I’d never been very good at keeping things inside.

  “I tried to tell myself it was just sex, that it didn’t mean anything. I tried to tell myself that it was for the best. You and I were never meant to be together. But none of that made up for you just leaving and never explaining why or…” I averted my face. I always said too much. Made myself too vulnerable. It was my tragic flaw.

  I wore my heart on my sleeve. A giant target for his poison arrow. And he always hit the bullseye.

  “You weren’t a mistake. I fucked up.”

  “Why did you lash out like that if you didn’t mean it?”

  “It’s what I do.”

  I shook my head, not ready to let him off the hook so easily. “That’s not an excuse.”

  He exhaled loudly.

  “Give me an honest answer or leave,” I said firmly, pointing to the door.

  “Seeing you with a guy like that, dressed like that… it re-opened an old wound.” His face was more open and vulnerable than I’d ever seen it, his words honest. But they hurt me nonetheless because I knew that this was all about Sienna.

  I should have known. Hadn’t he compared me to her and I’d fallen short?

  “He’s not my boyfriend. He just gave me a ride home from Sienna’s engagement party. But you lied to me, didn’t you? You’re not over her.”

  That was the only logical explanation for his behavior. I stood up from my chair and skirted past him. Since he didn’t seem inclined to leave, I would.

  “I didn’t fucking lie to you,” he gritted out.

  I ignored his words because he’d given me no other explanation. “I’m not Sienna. And I’m not your consolation prize.”

  My hand was on the doorknob ready to leave when his words stopped me.

  “I know that.” His voice grew closer, but I kept my back to him, waiting to hear what else he had to say. “She fucked with my head, and I’m over her, but I still bear the scars. We were bad for each other. I know I fucked up. Give me another chance to get it right.”

  Slowly, I spun around to face him. He bit his bottom lip, his stormy eyes so hopeful it made my heart ache. More than anything, I wanted to give him another chance but I couldn’t. “It hurt so much when you left me like that. It hurt more than it should have because we hadn’t even been together that long.”

  “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  I took a shaky breath. His honesty was so disarming. “What happened to you? Why did you leave like that?”

  “My mother died. Committed suicide.” I sucked in a breath. Oh, my God. “She called me that night I was with you, but I missed her call. And I spent the last month thinking that if I’d answered her call, maybe I could have stopped her.”

  I could hear the guilt in his voice, and the grief, as if he actually believed that his mother’s death had been his fault. Sucking in a huge gulp of air, I tried to come up with something, anything, I could say to make his pain stop. There was nothing.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dylan.”

  “Don’t be,” he said gruffly. “She was a shitty excuse for a mother.”

  “But you loved her.” It was a guess. He’d never really talked about his mother.

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, his eyes not meeting mine. “In my own fucked-up way, yeah, guess so.”

  Not knowing what to do but needing to do something, I wrapped my arms around him, tentative at first. When he didn’t pull away, I held him tighter and his arms came around me.

  I held onto him like I never wanted to let him go. This beautiful broken boy who could be so cruel. The only boy I’d ever lo
ved.

  The events of the past month ran through my head. The way he’d hurried me out of his house that morning then dropped me off. The night he’d gotten so drunk and begged me to stay because he didn’t want to be alone. But I’d left him and now I wondered if everything would have been different if only I’d stayed.

  Everyone leaves.

  And I did too.

  I knew something was wrong when I saw him by the elevators that morning, but I’d been so frustrated by his lack of communication. And he’d never said a word about what he was going through.

  “I could have been there for you, if you’d have let me,” I said, tears springing to my eyes unbidden when I remembered the pain etched on his face the night I’d picked him up outside The Last Stand. “It wasn’t your fault, Dylan. Your mother’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  He buried his face in my hair for a few seconds before he released me and took a step back, scrubbing his hand over his face. Sometimes, like that night at the hospital and right now, I got a glimpse of the boy that he must have been. And something about seeing this tough guy looking so vulnerable made my heart ache.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I needed to tell Remy first. I only told her a couple days before I came to see you.”

  It was Remy’s mother too. I’d been so wrapped up in my own drama that I’d forgotten that. I hadn’t seen Remy since I stopped by to visit Kai last week, so she hadn’t known yet. And I guess it wasn’t the kind of thing Shane would go around telling people.

  “But why?” I asked, confused as to why he would keep it from his own twin.

  He looked annoyed like he’d been questioned before, most likely by Remy. “She just had a baby. I didn’t want to fuck that up for her.”

  He was trying to give her that time to be happy, I guess. But why did everything have to be so complicated with him?

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “It’s all good.” I gave him a skeptical look. He cradled my face in his hands and tipped it up, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”

  A lump formed in my throat from those words. It was such a simple question, the kind of thing people asked each other all the time without really wanting an answer. But when Dylan asked, it sounded like it really meant something. Like the answer mattered.

  I nodded a little. “I’m okay.”

  He kissed me softly. His tongue swept over my lips and I parted them, letting him in, my arms wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss. I got caught up in the taste of him. His heady scent. The feel of his hands on my body.

  It was too easy to get lost in this kiss. To get lost in him again. I pulled away and took a step back.

  He ran his hand through his hair and raised a brow in question, his unspoken words asking what’s wrong.

  “What are we doing? What are we, Dylan? You say it’s not just sex, you say we’re not just friends, so what are we?”

  He sighed in exasperation and carved his hand through his hair. “You wanna slap a label on it?”

  “No. I want an answer.”

  “I don’t know what we are. But I know that I want you. And I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

  To me, that sounded a lot like a relationship. But with all the obstacles in our way, how could that even be possible? “You’re still my sister’s ex-boyfriend,” I pointed out.

  “I can’t change history and that’s all we are. History.”

  But she was still my sister and always would be. “My dad’s out to get you,” I admitted. “I overheard him on Saturday night.”

  “Don’t worry about him. That has nothing to do with us. We’ll figure it out,” he said, sounding so confident. He checked his Omega Speedmaster for the time. “I need to get to a meeting. Wish me luck.”

  “Why? Who’s the meeting with?”

  “The planning commission, the council, the mayor. Pretty sure daddy dearest will be there,” he said calmly, like none of this fazed him.

  My eyes widened and then I started laughing.

  His thick brows drew together. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.” I looked at his ripped jeans and combat boots. On closer inspection, they looked like the ones he used to wear, the leather cracked and worn, the laces undone. He looked like trouble and I loved it. But not exactly what you’d wear to a council meeting.

  “Are you trying to make a statement with this outfit?” I asked, laughing again.

  He winked at me. “Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

  “Good luck. I believe in you, Dylan St. Clair.”

  His eyes softened, the cocky expression disappearing as his eyes roamed my face searching for the truth in my words. “I don’t deserve it. But those words… they’re fucking everything.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I was such a cry baby. But I knew how much those words meant to him.

  He left me with a ‘see you later’ and a soft kiss on my forehead that was sweeter than the chocolates he’d sent.

  After the door closed behind him, I plopped down on the swivel chair and took a sip of the Starbucks he’d brought me. Caramel macchiato. He remembered. I lifted the lid off the box of chocolates and popped a cherry into my mouth, moaning softly when the tart and sweet juices exploded, blending perfectly with the milky chocolate.

  Food porn right there.

  I was licking the chocolate off my fingers when there was a knock on the door and Shane entered the office.

  Shane. My boss. I’d just been making out with his brother-in-law in his wife’s office.

  My face heated. It felt like it was on fire. “Hey. How’s it going?” I flashed him a smile, trying to cover my embarrassment and offered him a chocolate which he declined.

  “I need you out front. I have a board for you to paint.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” I’d lost all track of time. I shut down my laptop and slid it into my messenger bag as I stood up. “I was just—”

  “Hanging out with my brother-in-law.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. I got the feeling I wasn’t fooling him. He saw more than he was letting on.

  “We were just talking,” I said, rounding the desk to join him.

  Shane rubbed his hand over his jaw and studied my face. I tried to school my features, scared of what he might see. Too much, judging by the next words out of his mouth. “I’m in no position to judge. I fell in love with a sixteen-year-old when I was twenty-one. So I’ll just ask you one thing. If you walked away right now, could you move on and forget all about him?”

  My first instinct was to lie. Pretend that I was unaffected by Dylan. But I was pretty sure my face gave me away and he’d see right through my lie, so I shook my head. “No, it’s already too late for that,” I said quietly. “It’s hopeless though.”

  Shane gave me a little smile and squeezed my shoulder. “Never. There’s always hope.”

  I took some comfort in his words. Shane and Remy had beaten impossible odds and their love was still holding strong. But Dylan and I weren’t Shane and Remy. I didn’t know what we were.

  Two wrongs that make a bigger wrong. Then why does it feel so right?

  “Dylan told me about his mom. Is Remy okay?” I asked, following Shane to the front of the shop.

  “She’s okay. She’s more worried about Dylan.”

  “Why? I mean, obviously, I know why he’d be upset… why they’d both be upset. It’s a horrible thing. But why is she more worried about Dylan?”

  Shane thought about it for a moment before he answered, trying to decide how much he should tell me. “She worries because he holds everything inside. They went through a lot of shit growing up and their mother…” He shook his head and I got the feeling that Shane had not been a big fan. “That woman was a piece of work. But Dylan always felt like it was his responsibility to look after her. Protect her. Provide for her. Pretty sure he did it up until the day she died.”

  “It should have been the other way aro
und.”

  “In an ideal world, every kid would have loving parents.” He gave me a soft smile and I thought, not for the first time, that Kai was the luckiest little boy in the world to have two awesome parents who loved him unconditionally.

  We weren’t all so lucky. But maybe that was the goal in life. Despite your upbringing and circumstances, you just had to rise above and try to become the best person you could be.

  28

  Scarlett

  I pointed to the liquor store a few doors down as Dylan slid his card out of his wallet, his phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.

  His brows drew together. “Cruz. Hang on.” He jerked his chin at me, his way of asking for an explanation.

  “I’ll meet you in the wine store.” I gave him a quick kiss and a smile and waved over my shoulder, leaving him to get cash from the ATM and finish his call with Cruz. From the little I’d overheard, they were having problems at work. They’d just lost one of their biggest clients.

  I rubbed my hands over my bare arms covered in goosebumps. Summer had come early. It was the end of April and for the past week, the temperatures had hovered in the high eighties during the day. But I should have grabbed my hoodie from the car. It cooled off in the evenings and now the air felt chilly, made worse by my flushed skin from all the sun I’d caught today.

  My phone pinged, and I slid it out of my shorts pocket, checking the screen.

  Nic: Since you’re ordering Vietnamese, you want to pair it with a Riesling. I’ll text you the info.

  I shook my head, laughing, and lifted my eyes from my phone, promptly ramming into a brick wall. I took a few steps back. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I need to watch where I’m going.”

  “S’alright. You can run into me anytime, beautiful.” The guy grinned, his dark eyes roaming down my body, over my tank top and cut-off jean shorts, and down my bare legs before they returned to my chest, not my eyes. I hated that.

  I folded my arms and sidestepped him.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” He grabbed my arm. “Where you going? Me and my buddy are heading down to the beach with some brews.” I looked over at the guy he was with. They both looked like gym rats, beefed up and brawny with corded muscles and shaved heads. “Come party with us.”