My Only Reason (Men of Monroe Book 2)

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My Only Reason (Men of Monroe Book 2) Page 6

by Rachel Brookes


  And I’d fucked it up.

  I devoured her with my eyes. From the silver stilettos gracing her delicate feet, up over the deep purple dress hugging her curves, and finally her face that was still as stunning as it was the very first day I’d laid eyes on her.

  Even though whiskey was hitting the back of my throat, it was Marnie I drank in, and it was the sight of her that quenched my thirst. She laughed effortlessly with Missy, her face softening, leaving her eyes to sparkle. She looked like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Time slowed down, and the space between us spun out of control when her eyes connected with mine over the sea of people. Missy continued talking, oblivious to the reunion partially occurring next to her. A reunion that wasn’t predicted or expected, and it sure as fuck wasn’t meant to go down like this. Marnie’s jaw went slack, and her siren red painted lips dropped open in a gasp I couldn’t hear as she took me in.

  My biggest regret was pushing her away, but I had my reasons, and I stood by them. It was the hardest decision I’d ever made, and the heartbreak in her eyes when I broke her heart would forever haunt me. But a wise man once told me that my destiny would always come back to me even when it looked like destiny wasn’t on my side.

  And the man who’d told me this was Marnie’s father, Captain Theo Lavender.

  “Did she know I was going to be here?” Reluctantly, I broke my stare with Marnie and looked at Trent and Cora. “Because the look on her face tells me she’s just as shocked as I am.”

  “You’ll thank me later,” Cora replied. She didn’t have one ounce of remorse in her voice for blindsiding her sister or me. “Both of you will.”

  “Don’t look at me. I had no part in this.” Trent raised his hands in surrender as I directed my glare his way. “I was given instructions to get her here, and I had no clue you were turning up, so divert your scowl elsewhere.”

  “Fuck me,” I grumbled under my breath and sliced my fingers through my hair. The skin at the base of my neck prickled with awareness as Marnie got closer. Chatter kicked off again around the table, Sasha’s laughter pierced the air, and by the sound of Trent pushing his chair out from the table next to me, he was headed to the bar to get himself a replacement for the drink I was now enjoying.

  I kept my ass planted in my seat.

  I popped a mini quiche in my mouth.

  I nodded when Ben asked if I was good.

  And I waited for Marnie.

  Seven

  Marnie

  I stared, my eyes wide, my jaw slack, and my ears filled with white noise, at the man I once called my own. A tsunami of flashbacks starring him and me battered unrelentingly into me, one after another, as I continued to walk toward him.

  Next to me, Missy continued talking, but I hadn’t heard a word she’d said since I locked eyes with Austin. I was on autopilot as I tumbled through memories, and now I faced the memory of my eighteenth birthday. He’d picked me up, dressed up in nice slacks and a crisp shirt, and took me to his new apartment and made spaghetti à la Austin, a dish he knew was my favorite, and had vanilla cupcakes with strawberry frosting for dessert. Then he claimed my innocence under candlelight with soft music in the most magical and awe-inspiring way. The softness of his touch and the whisper of his words made me feel like his queen, and he’d taken his time to worship every inch of my body and ensure I was okay. The memory of losing my virginity to him always landed a subtle throb between my thighs. I’d close my eyes and see his glistening with love as he pushed deep inside me the very first time we joined as one, but then I’d be thrown to the moment those same eyes burned with ownership when his fingers dug into my hips as we fucked like wild animals the next day. But the one memory that forever haunted me and seemed to be on a constant loop was when I’d asked him to be mine forever. I’d been so excited, so sure that this would be the first day of the rest of our lives. It had taken me five minutes to say everything I wanted to say to him, and it had taken him five seconds to answer.

  We can’t.

  I really needed to stop thinking of this.

  Why hadn’t it occurred to me that the empty chair next to Trent would be for him? Ben and Sasha were here, Missy too, so why wouldn’t Austin come? I had to get my shit together before I’d be sitting opposite him all night. My stomach twisted in knots, and my heart thumped out of rhythm, yet somehow, my brain told my feet to continue to walk, and I didn’t miss a step. The closer I got, the more I drank him in with purpose like he was water and I was slowly dying of thirst because once I reached the table, he could no longer exist to me. I couldn’t look at him or acknowledge him because I didn’t know how I’d react. This wasn’t how I wanted the first time I saw him to play out. I wanted it to be on my terms, not in a room full of strangers or at a table with people, some of who knew the ins and outs of our history.

  Austin was the first to look away, and he turned his attention to Cora. She beamed at him with a huge smile, and I knew instantly that she’d planned this impromptu reunion and was beyond pleased with herself for orchestrating it.

  I was, however, pissed because since I’d left Monroe, I’d been living with a constant cycle of what-ifs, and Cora knew that. I’d always been the girl who despised what-ifs, but when it came to Austin Hart, I couldn’t shake them. What if I’d never met him? What if he’d said yes? What if I’d never left? What if, what if, what the fuck if! When I thought of him, I would either start living in the past, or I fantasized of a future that would never be mine. And now my interfering sister had brought a whole set of new what-ifs into my life. What if I disowned her? What if I refused to talk to her for a week, maybe a month? What if I demanded that she give me all her favorite shoes as payment for putting me in this situation?

  Dammit, Cora!

  A crackle hit the air, followed by a high-pitched squeal, then a tap, tap, tap that echoed around the room, causing a hushed silence to fall among the guests.

  “If everyone could please take their seats.”

  My eyes cut to the stage and to the MC speaking into a microphone and attempting to get everyone’s attention. The official proceedings were about to begin, which meant I could sit at the table, drink my whiskey sour, and try to get my head into the game while avoiding awkward small talk.

  I sent a silent thank you into the universe.

  “We didn’t plan this,” Ben whispered into my ear after I slid into the seat next to him. “He didn’t know either.”

  I nodded once and didn’t say a word. Instead, I lifted the glass to my lips and drained half my cocktail in one go. The alcohol burned a path down my throat, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Austin’s eyes burning into me from across the table. I was desperate to avoid his eyes. From the moment I’d met him, his eyes always told me the deepest parts of his soul. When he hurt or felt pain, happiness, and love, I knew. If he couldn’t express what he needed to say with words, I’d look into his eyes and see it all. I always loved it and craved that connection and pull, but tonight I was petrified of what his eyes would tell me.

  I focused on the stage as each member of the Monroe Lions were introduced. I laughed when I needed to laugh. I clapped when I was required to clap, and I cheered when the rest of the room cheered. It allowed me to avoid looking across the table at the first boy I crushed on, who then became the only man I loved.

  Once the introductions were over, the auction began. I found myself bidding on things I didn’t need, and I won a dinner for two at my favorite restaurant in Monroe.

  “Maybe you can invite Taylor?” Cora piped up when I came back to the table after going to give my name and details to claim my win.

  “Taylor?” Trent asked, eyes darting back and forth between Cora and me. “As in my brother Taylor?”

  “You and Taylor?” Ben decided to join the conversation, his voice low. “Since when?”

  “Since never,” I replied with a huff before finishing the rest of my cocktail.

  “But it could be,” Cora pushed, causing
everyone to cease talking and pay attention to us. Including Austin. “You two would look great together. And we wouldn’t have to deal with the whole getting to know a new guy because we already know Taylor.”

  I stared at my sister as she continued to dive deeper into this wondrous fantasy land she had created in her head. Then I made the mistake of looking around the table. Like magnets, my eyes were drawn to Austin. He stared back at me, his eyes telling me he did not like what he was hearing. Sucking in a deep breath, I quickly blinked away, not wanting to get caught in his trap or be overwhelmed by his face that seemed to have become even more handsome over the years. How was that even possible?

  Shit!

  “Can we please discuss something else?” I focused back on Cora, who still had stars in her eyes. “I’m willing to talk about religion and politics at this point.”

  “How are you settling in? Any progress with your shop?” Missy asked, diverting the conversation perfectly and winking at me in solidarity.

  I thanked her with a smile. “It’s going real good. I’ve still got a few things to get organized, and I’m thinking of hiring someone to come in and put together a few things while I do the painting. I’m really happy with how it’s coming together though.”

  “So, what’s new with you, Austin? Dating? Married? Single?”

  My eyes shot wide, and I swear I felt a twitch begin at Cora’s question. She had no filter at the best of times, but add free champagne and cocktails to the mix, and she was lethal. Austin and Trent were friends, they worked together at times, so she already knew what his answer would be before he gave it.

  “Fuck me,” Ben muttered beside me, and I resonated completely with his reaction.

  Austin took the bait with a smirk. “Things are good, Cora. Real good actually.”

  My eyes swung to him as the sound of his rich, deep voice wrapped around me tightly and began to squeeze the air out of my lungs. I hadn’t heard his voice in five years, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until right then.

  “And to answer your question, the only girl in my life is a beautiful blonde named Aria. She’s sassy, gorgeous as fuck, and has me wrapped around her finger.”

  “What the hell?” Missy burst out. “You’re seeing someone? Why am I only hearing about this now? Wait? Austin Hart; Mr. Bachelor, Mr. I-Don’t-Date, Mr. One-Night-Stand, is saying he is off the market? Well, shit, you could knock me over with a feather.”

  I lifted a flute of champagne that had been placed in front of me to my lips and stared at Austin as I took a long sip. His relationship status shouldn’t bother me, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t. We were over. Done. Finished. And there was no going back. He said no, and no to me was final. But five years ago, we experienced something neither of us could have ever predicted, and my restraint of keeping it final was tested, and I failed.

  A disgruntled husband of a woman who’d been picked up for prostitution stormed into Monroe Police Department and shot my dad, the Captain of the Monroe PD, dead with a single bullet to the chest. Dad was the first person he saw, so he was targeted. Austin had been standing next to him when it happened, and he’d tried desperately to revive him until help arrived. He’d cradled my father as he took his last breath, and Austin was the last person my father would ever see. The rumor was that Austin had to be pulled away by three officers in order to get Dad into the ambulance.

  Dad and Austin had an incredible relationship. Dad had welcomed him into our family as soon as we started dating, and even though Austin was older than me, Dad gave his blessing to date his baby girl. The respect Austin had for Dad was astronomical. He never gave Dad any shitty excuses or bullshit stories, and the respect was reciprocated. When we lost Dad, it tore Austin apart, and he didn’t hide that from me.

  We’d been separated two years prior to losing Dad. I was no longer living in Monroe, but it had been Austin’s arms I sought when I came home for a month, and it had been his bed I’d fallen into. He was either fucking me crazy, wiping away my tears, listening to me sob, or holding me tightly. We never spoke about our relationship. We never mentioned him saying no to me. We never discussed anything to do with us. It was simply a time to begin healing our hearts and trying to find a new normal without Dad. When it was time for me to leave, we said our goodbyes, and we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since.

  Austin kept his eyes locked with mine when he replied. “Aria is my niece.”

  I tore my eyes from his and dropped them to the table.

  His niece.

  The beautiful blonde in his life was his niece.

  His younger sister, Ashlyn, and I were close when we dated. She was a couple of years younger than me, and we became fast friends. But when things ended between us, and I moved from Monroe, I distanced myself from everyone linked to Austin. Some would say it was selfish, others may say it was the wrong thing to do, but it was what I had to do to protect myself. But now hearing she’s had a child, a gorgeous little girl named Aria, all I wanted to do was jump on social media and stalk her profile for photos, then call her and beg for forgiveness for the years that had passed.

  “I’m getting another whiskey. Does anyone want anything from the bar?”

  He mentioned whiskey.

  That was me and him.

  Whiskey and Christmas.

  No thanks and orders were given, then he pushed his chair back, stepped away from the table, and moved toward the bar.

  The conversation continued around me, while I sucked in a deep breath. And even though I tried my hardest not to, I found myself watching his retreating figure over the rim of my flute of champagne.

  I had no clue what I felt.

  I had no idea where we stood.

  I had no fucking clue at all.

  Eight

  Austin

  “Why is she back?”

  My eyes slammed shut, and my shoulders tightened at the sound of my mother’s voice spitting hatred behind me. It was almost comical that it never crossed my mind that my social climbing mother would show her face tonight, especially now she was running for mayor. After all, the gala was the biggest event on the Monroe social calendar, and the opportunity to rub shoulders with the who’s who of Monroe was too great to pass up... even if it was to celebrate the local football team.

  I didn’t have any kind of relationship with my parents. The only reason our paths crossed was because Monroe was a small town, and there were only so many places I could go without running into them. We didn’t spend holidays together, there were no birthday calls or well wishes, and there sure as hell were no family catch-ups. They had their lives, and Ashlyn and I had ours, and that was how it’d been for a long fucking time.

  Growing up, Ashlyn and I had been trophy children. We excelled at school, were members of elite school committees, and Ashlyn was a cheerleader, and I played on the Monroe High football team. We were good looking, popular and in the eyes of Monroe residence, The Harts were living the good life. But behind closed doors, it was a different story. Neither of our parents had a parental bone in their body, and I couldn’t remember a time they’d said they loved us. Dad was a workaholic who lived and breathed his job and traveled extensively, while Mom was more concerned about impressing the who’s who of Monroe’s elite social circle and doing everything in her power and at whatever cost to become one of them.

  Nowadays, the only thing the four of us had in common was our surname, and sometimes that was too fucking much.

  I gritted my teeth and turned to greet her. “Hello to you too, Mother.”

  There was not enough whiskey in the world to help me get through the bullshit headed my way. I lifted the almost full glass of amber gold to my lips and took a hearty sip and locked eyes with the woman who birthed me. I knew exactly who she was referring to. It was beneath Cybil Hart to call Marnie by name, and there’d only been a handful of times when I’d heard her say Marnie. It pissed me off then, and it sure as hell pissed me off now.

  “Why
is that girl back in Monroe?” she repeated, disgust dripping from every word she spat. “I will not repeat myself again.”

  I took another sip of whiskey and let her seethe a little longer. Around us, the gala continued without a hitch. The formalities were over, and now the less formal part of the evening had begun. Suit jackets had been removed and now hung on the back of chairs, harder liquor in low glasses replaced flutes of champagne, and laughter and boisterous talk had erased the whispers and the soft hum of voices.

  “I assume you’re referring to Marnie?” I appeared calm, but inside, my blood boiled.

  Her eyes narrowed, and red crawled up her neck as fury took control. “Don’t get smart with me, boy.”

  I bit my tongue before I lashed out. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in months, shit, it’d almost been a year, and now she stood in front of me making demands for information she had no right to ask for. Fuck. That. I sucked in a deep breath, drained the rest of my glass, and stared at her while I reeled in my anger.

  My voice dropped to a growl when I finally spoke. “We have nothing to discuss in regard to Marnie.”

  “Why. Is. She. Here?” Every word was enunciated with fire and fury.

  I took a step into her space, making it clear that she needed to listen and take in everything I was about to say because I wouldn’t say it again. “Firstly, stop referring to Marnie as she. She has a name, so use it. To answer your question, which you have absolutely no right to ask, Marnie looks like she’s having a great night out with her sister. What Marnie doesn’t look like is a topic of conversation you and I will ever have. You didn’t give a shit about her before, and you don’t give a shit about her, me, or anyone other than yourself now. So, do not come at me spitting your hate, asking about her, or bringing her up again because next time I will not be as polite in my reply.”

 

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