These thoughts should have snuffed out the hope in my heart, but all they did was make it ache. I shouldn’t have cared. I should have let logic and realism spirit away the errant dream that had begun to blossom, like a night-blooming flower, in my mind’s eye—that sweet, intoxicating siren’s song that told me Ash and I could have something different and wonderful together. That he might be someone I could trust. Someone I could… love.
That possibility was almost too precious to bear. But if I opened myself to Ash that way—if I let him in, and then he hurt me… how would I ever recover?
At the end of the day, I had to admit to myself a very inconvenient and uncomfortable truth: that when it came to matters of the heart, I was just as fragile as Sarah was.
12
Ash
I’d been so dead-dog tired when I left Hannah’s that I’d had to stop at a diner and grab a proper cup of coffee, just so I didn’t drive my bike straight into a telephone pole on my way back to my apartment. It was a Mom and Pop setup, the kind of quaint establishment you see a lot of in places like Bright Falls, one that still lingered despite the advent of the fast food chain and other, more trendy restaurants. Bea Figgins was the owner-operator, the woman behind the counter with silver hair and dark, wicked eyes who could either make your life a dream or a living hell. I swear to God, she must’ve been an old gypsy woman, because she could read the character of a person as easily as if it was written straight across their faces.
And for some reason, she liked me. Go figure.
But damned if I was going to question a possible gypsy woman.
I’d sat down in a booth near the back. It was still so damn early that barely anyone was there, leaving me with caffeine and solitude. One of those things ended up mattering just a little bit more than the other, and a few hours later, I found myself waking up in strange surroundings once again.
“Shit,” I muttered, and not for the first time that day. This was becoming a habit. I squinted at the sun crashing in through the blinds and sat up, doing my best to fix my hair and hoping for Bea to come by with a hot refill on my coffee—and maybe an explanation.
I got both—Christmas came early this year. “Snow White awakens,” she said with a chuckle, providing me with another splash of coffee and a new, clean mug. “And without true love’s kiss, no less.”
“Why’d you let me pass out, Bea?” I groaned, glancing at my phone. Christ, it was almost eleven o’clock! I had things to do today. What the fuck…
“You just looked so damn peaceful,” she answered, “like a baby angel. Tiny Lucifer, sleeping it off.” She grinned at me, her teeth still so perfect and white after all these years. Must’ve been dentures. “Who’s the lucky lady this time, huh? And how hung over are you right now?”
“First off,” I began, rubbing a sore shoulder, “that Lucifer crack? Not nice. Secondly, a gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“You’re not a gentleman,” Bea observed.
“Fuck off, Bea,” I replied. That was fine—it was how we talked to each other. “And third, I’m not hung over. Not at all. It was just… a long night. For reasons that don’t involve alcohol.”
“But you’re not telling,” Bea mused. She shrugged. “Well, whoever it is, she’s some kind of special.”
I finally pulled the mug toward me and took a sip. Ah, fuck—I forgot the cream and sugar. “What makes you say that?”
She watched me intently as I began loading my coffee with the essentials. “A woman knows these things. That’s all.”
“More like a witch,” I scoffed.
I had been trying for years to get Bea to admit it, but the old broad wouldn’t budge. There just had to be something mystical about her, something that gave her uncanny insight into the human condition. She regarded us, her customers, her city kin, as mere mortals in need of advice and occasionally assistance. She was never full of herself, never high and mighty… but there was something distinctly “other” about her. Something that made even the Bright Falls Beasts refuse to mess with her.
My dad hadn’t even been that stupid. And believe me, that motherfucker had some terrible ideas in his time.
Bea afforded me a half-hearted roll of her eyes. “Right. ‘Cause a woman who can see through a man must be practicing witchcraft. Ain’t that the way of things?” She flashed me a sly smile. “Could be you’ve just got that look about you, Brody. The one I seen on Keebler last time he fell in love.”
I stared at her as I stirred my coffee. Keebler was her dog.
“Keebler… fell in love?”
“Uh-huh.”
“With?”
“Classy little French poodle moved in across the way.”
“Mm hmm. She got a name?”
Bea waggled her brows at me. “Ms. Puffs. Ms. Sasha Puffs.”
“Of course. And I have that look, huh? Same one you saw on Keebler’s face when he saw that mighty fine poodle strutting her stuff?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Bea, her laugh lines deepening. “You definitely got that look. Saw it the moment you walked in here.”
“I see. Tell me, Bea—what kind of look do I have now?” I asked her.
Another turn of her lips. A crackle of something electric behind her eyes. “Murder,” she said. “Though if you’d be so kind as to settle up first, I’d be much obliged.” She set my check down in front of me.
I glanced at the total, then pulled my bank card out of my wallet and slid it over. “Sure. I take last requests.” The next sip I took of my coffee, I found it was much more bearable. I sighed. I just might make it home yet. “Oh, one more thing. The ending of your story.”
Bea took my card between her wizened fingers. “About Keebler?”
“Yeah. Did he manage to win over Ms. Puffs? Or is it Mrs. Puffs now? Has he made an honest poodle out of her?” Christ Almighty, this conversation made me feel like I was having a stroke.
But talking with Bea was like that. It made no goddamn sense, and yet in some strange way, it made you feel better. And sometimes, days or weeks or months later, it all came full circle somehow, and you found yourself questioning reality and the order of the universe because no way, no way could this have possibly been coincidental.
“Oh, that,” she said, tucking the card into a pocket on her apron. “I’m afraid it didn’t work out. Poor Keebler’s got a funny way about him, y’see. Any other dog in the world, he makes friends with right away. But Ms. Puffs? Well, she’s got some baggage, I think. Has a hard time getting friendly with mutts. And Keebler? Bless his heart, he just… tries so hard to show off for her. Brings his other doggie friends around. Makes a big deal out of it, like, see? I know how to be friends. Look at all the dogs that like me! But I think that makes Ms. Puffs feel a little intimidated, maybe. A little less… special. Anyway,” she waved her hand, “it’s a shame, because I think they would’ve made a helluva couple. Cute puppies, and all that. If it had worked out.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. Crying shame.”
“I’ll get this back to you straight away,” Bea said, sauntering over to the cash register. This was the part where she let her wisdom stew. It was supposed to percolate in my brain, becoming more potent with each passing minute, until I had my eureka moment and fixed whatever she perceived was wrong in my life. Shit, maybe I should bring Wyatt here. Now there was a problem that needed fixing.
I was so wrapped up in finding deeper meaning to her ramblings that I almost didn’t hear Bea walk up. I actually flinched when she slapped my card down in front of me. “All set, sweet cheeks. Now go on, get yourself home. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”
I put my card back in my wallet. “And how would you know?”
As I stood up, Bea remained perfectly still. That put me awful close to her, so close I swore I could actually see her eyes changing color in the sunlight—from amber brown to golden honey.
“Because,” she said, “a woman knows these things.”
Well, that certainly didn’t bo
de well.
As I made my way out of the diner, I heard her call after me, “I think if he’d just sat with her, y’know—if he’d just been by her side, just her and him, to show her how important she was, that he could be there for her like that… I think maybe he would’ve won her over. But you know mutts. They don’t always think they’re good enough, or as deserving as the pure breeds.”
“Christ’s sakes, Bea,” I said over my shoulder. “Tell me we’re still talking about Keebler.”
Bea shrugged. “Dogs, men. In the end—what’s the difference?”
I had absolutely zero time to answer that. I needed to get home and take a shower, and after that, I needed to work on getting rested and ready for a job I had tonight, one that required me to spend a few hours at a strip club downtown. I’d be bouncing any rude fucks who so much as thought about getting all handsy with any of the girls. Good pay. Good show. I could hardly complain. In my line of work, you took what you could get. It was rare that something this ideal came around.
But I wondered, what would Hannah think? If she knew I was going to a strip joint tonight, would she be pissed? Would she care at all? I wasn’t sure which scenario I liked better: the one where she bit my head off like a praying mantis, or the one where she just gave me that cold, thousand-yard stare I’d seen back at the fairgrounds.
Fuck. She really did have me all twisted up. I thought maybe jumping on the bike would help clear my head, not just of Hannah, but of Bea’s nonsense as well—but as it turned out, the universe wasn’t even gonna let me have that bit of respite today. About five minutes out of the diner’s parking lot, the Bluetooth alert in my helmet began to sing, letting me know I had a call. Hands-free, I answered it.
The regret I experienced was immediate. I really should have checked who it was.
“Ash. It’s Tanya.”
Goddammit.
“I was thinking about the other night…”
Fuck.
“…and I think we should talk.”
No.
“About us.”
Why?!
“Ash? Are you there?”
I almost hung up. But then she’d just call back. I heaved a sigh, one loud enough for the microphone to pick up.
“Yeah, Tanya. I’m here.”
“Listen… I know what happened at the fair wasn’t exactly… I know how I came off.”
“You were upset I ditched you,” I said as I leaned through a curve. I was trying to give her a way out, trying to give her an excuse. It was a subtle hint—don’t say you love me, Tanya. You know it’ll just screw up everything. If you don’t say it, maybe there’s something—a friendship—we can salvage. “That’s understandable.”
But Tanya didn’t take me up on my exit strategy. She said, “It was more than that. I just… I thought we were working toward something. Something bigger. You know?”
I had tried so many times to gently explain to Tanya that there would never be “something bigger” between her and me. I liked her as a person, and I liked her as a sexual partner, but she wanted a commitment from me that I just couldn’t make. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a fine woman, when she wasn’t out of her mind with jealousy. It was me. It was always me. But no matter what I said or how many tears she cried, we always ended up back in the same position. We were at an impasse. It was time to be blunt.
“I don’t know why you thought that,” I said, my tone firm but far from cruel. “Seriously, how many times have we been over this? You want something I can’t give you. You want a relationship. You want marriage.”
“I don’t! I mean, not right now…”
“Right, but down the line. You’re looking for a partner, Tanya. Someone you can settle down with. And that ain’t me. It’s never been me.”
“I don’t get it, Ash. I just… we’re perfect together. Everybody thinks so.”
“Whoever ‘everybody’ is, they’re not me. I’m the one whose opinion matters. And I’m telling you it won’t work. No, it’s… it’s more than that.” I steeled myself for the hornet’s nest I was about to kick. “I don’t even want to try.”
“But you felt it. Didn’t you?” She paused, but I didn’t answer her. There was no point. Tanya would only hear what she wanted to hear. “Don’t lie to me, Ash. I know you did. I know you felt something real with me.”
“Don’t make me do this, Tanya,” I said, weary already. “Please. Don’t make me be the bad guy.” That really was the last thing I wanted to be. I’d tried so hard to avoid being that for most of my adult life. But Tanya… she was going to make me do it. I knew she was. She was going to make me be Ash Brody, the asshole. Well, why not? I’d tried everything else. Exhausted every other avenue. Some people just need a clean, brutal cut in order for them to move on, I guess. Tanya seemed to be one of them.
“Don’t make you be the bad guy?” she echoed. “Don’t make you be the bad guy?! You already are the bad guy, Ash! You left me hanging for weeks. Forgot all about me, like… like I was some toy you were done playing with, so that made it okay for you to just drop me. Discard me. Like trash! And then you invite me out, tell me you’re going to show me something really special, and I get there and you’re… you’re…” Her voice rose to a fevered pitch. “I find you fucking that bitch!”
“Her name is not ‘that bitch!’” I snarled back at her, finally losing my temper. This was what she wanted. What she was after. Let her have it, then. Didn’t I always give people what they wanted, even at my own expense? “Her fucking name is Hannah, and the shit you pulled with her is not okay, Tanya! You made a complete ass out of yourself the other night, acting the way you did. You were like a fucking toddler, throwing a tantrum for the whole world to see. God, it was embarrassing. Pitiful. I was ashamed for you, because clearly, shame isn’t something you’ve got a lot of access to these days.” I was shaking, and that can be dangerous on a bike. I did my best to steady myself. “Believe whatever you have to believe about me. Whatever lies you have to tell yourself to make it through this. You wanna believe I led you on? Fine by me. You wanna believe there was something deeper there I just couldn’t see? Who the hell cares! Tell yourself you were too good for me—it’s probably the truth. But you get in one of those moods again, Tanya—you get it into your pretty little head that you can go around trying to assault people ‘cause you’ve had a bad day—you make sure you leave me and mine out of it. Am I fucking clear?”
Silence. Internally, I thanked God. Maybe Tanya was finally starting to get it. Maybe she’d realized poking a bear with a stick wasn’t such a good idea. I could still hear her on the other end of the line, breathing hard. Making little sounds like she was struggling not to cry. I was about to hang up on her when she said, “So… she’s more than just a fuck to you. She means something. Not me.”
At a red light, I closed my eyes. “She needs my help, Tanya. That’s all.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince more—her, or me. “In the end… it’s just another relationship of convenience for everyone involved.”
“Your… help?” Tanya asked, and a pit opened in my stomach at the sparkle of hope in her voice. “Help with what, Ash?”
No. I’d already said too much. And it was clear to me now that whatever else came out of my mouth, Tanya would find a way to keep believing we could make it work. I disconnected the call.
You’ve got a long day ahead of you, Bea had said to me. And she was right. Because of course she was.
I needed a shower now more than ever. I needed to scrub the gore of ripping Tanya a new one off my body and my soul. I needed to wash off Hannah’s scent and stop deluding myself into thinking there was anything more than fucking between us. I’d seen firsthand what kind of road false hope led to. I didn’t want to end up like Tanya, trying to lay claim to someone who wasn’t mine. Someone who never was.
I had my keepsakes. Hannah’s panties. Some dirty pictures, some dirty texts. Memories I knew I’d carry with me to my grave. Those would be the things
she left behind when this was all over—when her sisters were safe. When my contract was done. They were little pieces of her, and even though I knew it wasn’t enough—not really—I also knew it had to be. ‘Cause it was all I was gonna get.
She really was too good for me. Just like all the others.
But goddamn if that stupid story about the dogs wasn’t stuck in my head. The idea that maybe if I sat with her, if I talked with her, if I showed her who I really was… maybe she’d come around. Maybe she’d like me, the actual me, not the mask I put on whenever I left my apartment. Maybe that was the key to breaking the pattern. Maybe I had to let her in, give her the ability to hurt me, and then hope like hell she didn’t use it. And then, once that was done… once I’d proven there was more to me than just a good fuck… maybe she’d let me in, too.
Fuck, what was I thinking? This girl really had me head over heels.
But I wasn’t done suffering. Oh, no. And a shower would have to wait. Because the moment I made it up the stairs to my apartment, yet another nasty surprise was there waiting for me.
The first thing that tipped me off was the busted lock.
“What the fuck?”
I touched my front door and it swung open, revealing the place where someone had straight-up splintered the doorjamb. Whoever it was had used raw force to get in here. There was no finesse. No subtlety. Just brute strength used to gain access to my home.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I muttered, stepping inside. I kept my guard up. If the dude was still in here…
But all I found were overturned dressers. Slashed couch cushions. Papers scattered across the floor like a deck of cards—fifty-two pickup. Holes in the walls, probably from fists. My fridge had been emptied, tipped right over onto its side. Everything was a mess. Everything had been… desecrated. Violated. No stone left unturned.
The Brody Bunch Collection: Bad Boy Romance Page 29
