Wrong For Me

by Meagan Brandy

  Her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alec

  We’ve only pulled from the Blackline parking lot when Oakley speaks, “I want you both out by morning.”

  My grip tightens on the steering wheel. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she pushed again. I’ll admit, I hoped I’d have at least tonight to plan what came next.

  “I know you hear me.”

  I shake my head. “That can’t happen, Oakley.”

  “It will happen, or I’ll call the police and have them remove you.”

  Fuck.

  The last thing I wanna do right now is cause her more confusion, but she’s not giving me any room to avoid it. And, unlike my brother, she’s not bluffing. She’d call in a heartbeat.

  “Part of that house now belongs to me. Nobody could make me leave if they tried.”

  “What?” she shrieks and turns her glare on me, but I don’t take my eyes off the road. “You’re lying.”

  “Not lying. I have a copy of the will. I can show you as soon as we get there.”

  “How—why would he add you into his will? And when?”

  “It was before I left.”

  “Why, Alec?”

  “Precaution.” I lick my lips and briefly glance her way. “And he wanted us together, in the end.”

  “Yeah, well, the end is here, and so is a five-foot-seven blonde with fake tits and a Botox smile.”

  “Look, I know everything is fucked up right now, but—”

  “Fucked up?” she shouts. “Fucked. Up?” she scoffs. “Fucked up is my having to work ten times harder than any man to make Blaze because of who I am. Fucked up is my best friend purposely hiding things from me and then trying to play me when he feels threatened. My dad being murdered and you being married and bringing your wife, who was the last person to speak to him before he died, into my home—which is apparently yours, too—is an unimaginable disaster. How I let this happen is beyond me.” She drops back in her seat, her head falling against the headrest. “I wish I still thought I loved Rowan instead.”

  My head snaps her way, and her muscles lock up, her eyes squeezing tighter as she realizes what she just admitted.

  I yank the wheel right and skid to a stop. I quickly shift into park, throw off my seat belt, and slide across the seat until I’m right fucking against her.

  “Oakley.”

  “No,” she whispers.

  “Look at me.”

  She hesitates, taking a deep breath, before her lids open, and a blurry mess of aqua blue stabs me right in the chest. Her bottom lip starts to tremble, so she sucks it between her teeth.

  My shoulders drop. “Baby …”

  She shakes her head, glancing away, but I gently place my hand on her neck, bringing her stare back to mine.

  She swallows, whispering, “Tell me I’m dreaming. Say this isn’t real. That my dad isn’t gone.” Her eyes flick between mine. “Tell me there isn’t a woman in my home, waiting for you to come back to her. Tell me you’re not married. Tell me … you’re mine.”

  I shake my head, softly stroking her cheek.

  She swallows, leaning into my hand, all while slinking closer to the door to get farther from me. “Then, tell me you hate me.” Her tears start to fall, her face pinching. “Please.”

  I clench my jaw, my head starting to ache. “Can’t do that.”

  “Then, you’re useless to me.”

  My eyes narrow as I tip my chin. “You said, you wish you still thought you loved my brother. What does that mean?”

  She stares, giving me nothing.

  “Tell me you love me, and I’ll fix this. Right fucking here, right fucking now.”

  A bitter laugh leaves her, and she shifts away from me, tearing me up a little more with each inch. Then, with a deep inhale, resolve steels her eyes, and I watch as the shield rises, a hard glare I recognize all too well taking over.

  Shit.

  She’s cutting off the pain.

  Numbing herself.

  “I’ll never give you control by being the weak little lamb you’re asking me to be. Play your games, force yourself on me as long as you want, Alec.” She slowly shifts her eyes back to mine. “But, if you think I’ll lie there and play nice, allowing the two of you to make me squirm you’re dead fucking wrong. Now”—she scowls—“we’ve been gone for hours. Better get me home, so you can tuck your wife back into bed.”

  I stare at her, and when I see this conversation won’t go anywhere else tonight, I slide back to my seat and head for the house.

  The second we walk through the door, Oakley tosses her bag and sweater to the floor, slowly moving down the hall with her head held high, shocking the hell out of me when she whips off her shirt and tosses it in Marissa’s face as she steps out of the bedroom door.

  Marissa doesn’t flinch, but her eyes follow Oakley down the hall. When Oakley stops and turns, my eyes slide back to hers, and she fucking winks.

  It’s dark and dirty, and it stirs heat deep inside me, meaning it does exactly what she wanted it to.

  Marissa’s blank stare is slow as it slides to mine and holds.

  Oakley’s move is bold, playing a woman for her man, especially one who’s territorial over her husband.

  Problem is, Oakley has no idea who she’s messing with.

  Another thing that’s my fault.

  Oakley slams her door, and I spin for the kitchen. Yanking open the fridge, I grab a water bottle and down it.

  Her footsteps are almost silent, but I know she’s standing there.

  “Where’d you go, husband?”

  “Blackline.”

  “Why?”

  “You expected things to change because you showed up, unannounced?”

  She hums. “No, not exactly, but I can’t help but wonder what influence she has over you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and then spin, quickly dipping to grip Marissa by the backs of her legs so that I can lift her.

  She stares a moment, but when she feels my hard-on against her, she smirks and sinks her hands into my hair.

  She doesn’t need to know she didn’t put it there.

  “Stop talking, Marissa.”

  “With pleasure, baby.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Oakley

  I hang up, blinking quickly to hide my frustration—or maybe it’s disappointment. I can’t seem to tell the two apart anymore.

  Aside from Rowan, Havannah has been my best friend for years, yet she couldn’t even make it out for the memorial. She said her school wouldn’t give her a pass since he wasn’t family, so she couldn’t come, but the Havannah I knew would have come, no matter what.

  When she video called me just now, I almost didn’t answer, but I needed to see her even if only through a screen. She looked as shitty as I probably did.

  She was detached and short. She hardly looked me in the eyes—probably because she knew she should have been here and wasn’t. That, and guilt from letting two weeks pass after my dad’s death before picking up the phone to call me. Her text doesn’t count, not when I’m used to talking to her every day.

  Rowan said I should have waited until my dad’s ashes were ready to have a ceremony, but I couldn’t. Waiting for a piece of him felt like waiting for him, and I needed reality to set in faster. This seemed like the way to go.

  It was quiet and simple with a small prayer given by Hillock beside the river he used to take me fishing at as a kid. I kept it small, choosing not to announce it to the outside world but keeping it within his Blaze family.

  It was exactly what he’d have wanted, only an easy fifty years too soon.

  Tears hit my eyes again, and I toss my phone to the grass, dropping my head against the old tree I’ve climbed at least a hundred times.

  “Everyone’s gone home.”

  When I don’t respond, he lightly pushes my phone with his shoe.

  “Was that Havannah?”

  I nod, closing my eyes.

  His shoulder hit
s mine as he plants himself beside me. He doesn’t say anything, knowing I can’t take much more talking today.

  The wind blows then, and the smell of the bonfire we built in my dad’s name hits my nostrils. My body starts to shake.

  Rowan shifts me, so I’m cradled against him, and I tuck into his chest.

  “It hurts, Rowan. I can’t do this.”

  He slowly rubs my back, a deep exhale leaving him. “Yeah, you can, Oaks. You might not think so, but I know it. You’re strong.”

  “But why do I always have to be?” I ask myself more than him.

  It’s not that I want to be weak, but I want someone else to be strong for me every now and again. Someone to help carry my burdens.

  Someone bold and built of resilience.

  Someone who belongs to someone else.

  I shift, dropping my forehead to his. “I feel like I’m losing. Every day, I feel … emptier. More out of place, like a fraud in my own skin. It’s not fair.”

  Rowan’s hands find my cheeks then, and he holds me there, his eyes on mine. “It’s going to be hard sometimes, days like today more than others, but you will be okay. You’ll get past this. And, you’re right; it’s not fair, but sometimes, it’s not supposed to be,” he whispers. “Sometimes, our biggest challenges are our strongest moments of growth; it’s when our true person shows, and the world gets to see what we’re made of.”

  I pull back a little so I can see him better, and he smiles softly.

  “Show the world who you are, Oakley. Strong, brave …” He trails off as he tucks my hair behind my ear, his eyes sliding back to mine when he whispers, “Beautiful. Hold on to those things.”

  “What if I can’t?” I whisper, moisture building in my eyes. “What if it’s all too much to take on my own?”

  “You’re not on your own.” He runs his knuckles across my cheek, and I reach up to grip his wrist, holding him there. “I’m here.”

  “You’re here, Row, but …”

  He tips his chin, letting me know it’s okay. “But it’s not the same?”

  I shake my head.

  Rowan takes a deep breath, his voice hardly a heard whisper. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

  I swallow, nodding.

  “If I loved you the way you deserved, when you wanted me to, before he came, would you still have fallen for him?”

  The muscles around my heart tighten as I replay his words in my mind.

  If Rowan had given himself to me like I wanted, without a doubt, everything I had would have been his to take. But would Alec have stolen the pieces of me right out from under him?

  As if sensing my thoughts on him, the weight of Alec’s stare hits me, and my skin prickles. I don’t glance his way, but I know he’s watching from across the lot.

  I close my eyes as the sad but clear truth envelops me in both warmth and aversion.

  He’d have pocketed every part of me without permission, maybe even without my knowledge.

  When my eyes open, Rowan’s eyes pinch around the edges.

  “Let me ask you something else.” He doesn’t wait for a response. “What about now, after everything that’s happened, what if I give you everything you used to want, before him? Would you take it?”

  I open my mouth, but my eyes hit the grass.

  Would I?

  I love Rowan, but I don’t feel him inside me anymore.

  But … could I?

  In time, would the one boy who held my hand at the playground and pushed me on the swing, the one who pulled me close during scary movies and taught me how to drive a car before I was allowed, find his way back into my heart?

  Everything would hurt a little less if he could. It’s a selfish thought but true nonetheless.

  This time, when my eyes hit his, his features tighten with his muscles. He’s afraid for me to voice the answer he clearly sees. Maybe he even hoped for one answer while wanting the other. But I can read my friend just as he can read me, and I sense his reason like he understands mine. He, too, has something he desperately wants to push away. For me, it’s the pain of my new reality. For him, it’s a secret he’s yet to share.

  I lay my hand over his heart, my chest constricting in refusal, and he inhales.

  “Oakley …”

  Large, heavy hands wrap around my waist right then, and I’m hauled up and pushed away.

  “Alec!” Rowan shouts, jumping to his feet.

  Alec’s foot hits the ground hard, and he whips around. I can imagine the look he gives Rowan, but I can’t see it with my back against his chest. It has Rowan’s jaw clenching. Just when Rowan’s eyes move to mine, Alec spins again, and he starts stomping across the grass.

  And me, I’m silent, basically dead weight, because I can’t find it in me to push back right now.

  He doesn’t stop until we hit the old boat shed a solid thirty feet from the water’s edge.

  He slides open the old wooden door and blasts inside, dropping me to my feet the second we’re closed in.

  He doesn’t say anything but slams a hand against an old oil can before gripping its edges, his head hanging between his shoulders.

  I move around the front of him, and while his head doesn’t come up, his eyes do.

  And then he’s on me until my back hits a rusted tool desk.

  His stare shifts between mine, cold and callous, and I hold my breath, readying myself for the asshole to come out. But, just when his nostrils start to flare and his jaw begins to clench, his entire body sags against me. He drops his forehead to my shoulder, and I freeze, my hands stuck at my sides, his moving to wrap around my middle.

  “Don’t do it, baby,” he whispers, desperation seeping from his jagged breath, and chills spread across my skin. “Don’t give him something he can’t keep.”

  And then he’s gone, and so is the first hint of warmth I’ve felt in weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Oakley

  With a deep breath, I toss my phone to the floor, steel my spine, and open my door.

  And I freeze where I stand.

  Alec is sitting there, right across from my room, staring up at me.

  His haggard stare trails me from my feet to my eyes. “Where are you goin’?”

  I hustle down the hall, ignoring him, and he follows.

  “Oakley.”

  “Work.”

  “I thought you might even though I don’t think you’re ready to go back yet.”

  “How ’bout you? When will you be ready to go back to where you came from?”

  “Not going anywhere.”

  I shake my head, grabbing my keys, and he reaches over my shoulder, yanking them from my hand.

  I spin to face him, and my breath locks in my throat.

  His presence is commanding. Consuming.

  I look away.

  “I’ve been gone a month. I’ve already missed an entire module. I won’t miss another.”

  Why am I explaining anything to him?

  I briefly peek at him, and he nods.

  “All right. You can ride with me.”

  When my head drops back on a laugh, he steps closer, making it die on my lips.

  “You will ride with me.”

  I keep my face as blank as possible as I glance up into his green eyes. Dark and haunted and tortured.

  Good.

  “Have you really been sitting around here, thinking you were on some sort of leave like me, babysitting or whatever it is you call what you’re doing, with the assumption that you’d go back when I did?” My eyes shift between his, and he gives nothing away, making my incredulous smile grow as my eyes widen. “Wow. Okay, let me break this down for you in layman’s terms.” I stand tall, making sure my words are clear. “You’re fired. Stay the hell off Blackline grounds.”

  His nostrils flare, and he goes to speak, but a horn sounds outside, and the corner of my mouth gradually tips up.

  A crease forms between his eyes and the vein in his neck starts to thro
b against his tan skin.

  “Keep the keys.” I take small, slow steps backward. “I only needed them to get back in our house.”

  Alec shoots forward, gripping on to my wrist; the same second his hand wraps around me, the front door flies open, and Rowan steps inside.

  “Get the fuck out,” Alec growls.

  Rowan ignores him, reaching a hand out for me. “Come on, Oaks.” He’s gentle in his hold, and I welcome the comforting touch.

  Alec feels it, the way my muscles relax, and his hand flies from my skin like I’ve burned him.

  Good. I hope it stings.

  Of course, it couldn’t possibly bite as hard as the snake that slinks around the corner, my favorite coffee mug against her lips.

  “What the fu—” comes from Rowan.

  But I spin, giving him a look that tells him not to start. Not now.

  Just get me out of here.

  Rowan’s eyes slope at the edges, and he nods, pulling me through the door. And, because I’m a glutton for punishment, I glance back.

  Alec’s brows dip at the center, deep creases framing his eyes, but that’s not what has my breath locking in my throat.

  It’s the tic of his jaw and the flex of his fingers the moment his wife’s paw lands on him.

  “I can’t just keep quiet.” Rowan frowns. “This is bullshit, Oakley. You said she wasn’t there anymore.”

  “I know,” I sigh, the calmness I felt when he picked me up evaporating. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Well, I’m fucking worried.” He hits his steering wheel, and I glare his way. “Why are you letting him make decisions for you? You don’t have to stay there. You shouldn’t be there.”

  “He lit your fucking couch on fire!” I shout. “He’s a fucking fireman, and he lit a fire … on fucking purpose, all to drag me out of your house.” I take a deep breath and glance out the window a moment. “Listen, Rowan, I’m not going to pretend like I’m happy with how things are right now, but I have too much on my mind to worry about him and whatever he has on his agenda. I gave myself some time, like everyone asked, but I’m done now. I’m antsy. My muscles and my mind need to be worked. I need to focus on Blackline now.”