“Good night, everyone,” Penelope said, and Evan pushed her as fast as he could out the door.
On the stoop she turned and looked at him. “Was that exit as ungraceful as I think it was?”
“Do you care?” Evan asked.
Her attention fell to his mouth. “Nope.”
He clenched his hand to keep from reaching for her. “You know you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”
“Well, I should hope not,” she said, her tone all prim and proper.
He hooked his finger through her belt loop and tugged. “I’m open to discussion on the red dress.”
“Evan.” His name a moan as she ran her hand over his stomach. “Take me home and I’ll discuss whatever you want.”
He growled. “Christ, Penelope.”
She just laughed and ran down the steps, that long, dark hair streaming behind her. When she got to the car, she turned and the wind whipped a lock across her cheek. She looked like the girl he used to know and this strange, mysterious woman she’d become.
Like everything he’d loved about the past, and everything he feared about the future.
She looked like sex and life.
Like something too wild to contain and too addictive to let go.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Evan backed the batmobile into her garage, Penelope was a nervous wreck. She shouldn’t be—there wasn’t anything she hadn’t done with him. But that was years ago.
They were different now. Changed. And despite the chemistry, and the secrets they shared, they were almost strangers to the people they’d become. The personas they’d been showing each other all these years didn’t count, because in the end it was just an act, an illusion of apathy she didn’t think either one of them had ever felt.
He turned off the ignition, but neither of them moved to get out of the car. He craned his head in her direction. “Nervous?”
“Yes.” She bit her bottom lip. “I guess the champagne wore off.”
“We don’t have to do anything, you know. We could watch TV like we used to.” He grinned at her. “What’s your current guilty-pleasure show?”
She clasped her hands as her chest expanded. “You remember?”
He twisted and put his arm on the edge of her seat. “I remember everything about you. So what’s it these days?”
That he remembered her love of pulpy trash TV filled her with a happiness that embarrassed her. She offered him a shaky smile. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Come on.” He picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “You know I’ll get it out of you.”
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, making a big show of an exasperation she didn’t even come close to feeling. She couldn’t believe he remembered. “The Originals.”
His expression remained blank. “Never heard of it.”
“That’s because it’s not on ESPN.”
He tugged at the chestnut strands he still held. “Cute. What’s it about?”
She smiled, relaxing a bit. “The original vampire family and their quest to conquer the witches and wolves and claim New Orleans once again for their own.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “That sounds awful.”
“It’s not,” she said with all sincerity. She loved her guilty-pleasure shows. She’d get into her sweats and stretch out on her bed with a carton of ice cream and watch with abandon, forgetting all the stress and hassles of the week. “You have to watch before you can judge it.”
His gaze met hers. “Shall we watch it so I can judge properly?”
He was giving her an out. But the truth was, she didn’t want it. She needed him, and would not be able to settle until she took care of this unbearable ache he created. She shook her head. “Maybe later.”
“Are you sure?” He searched her expression.
Who was this Evan that was so concerned with her emotions? She tilted her head. “What happened to the guy who took what he wanted?”
He looked out the window. “He’s still there, somewhat leashed at the moment.”
She touched his arm, brushing her fingers over the strong cords of his muscles. “I don’t want you leashed.”
He returned his attention back to her. “That guy who took what he wanted caused a lot of damage, and I don’t want to make those same mistakes again.”
He kept saying things like that, reminding her of why she’d fallen for him in the first place. She reached for him and touched the edge of his jaw. “I won’t regret it. I’ve never regretted anything I’ve done with you. Only the aftermath.”
He grasped her hand and brought her fingertips to his lips. “Before we go inside, I want to tell you something. It might be hard for you to hear, and maybe it will change tonight, but I want you to know.”
“All right,” she said, her voice cautious as her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Did statements like that ever end well?
He didn’t release his grip, and brought their clasped hands to rest on his thigh.
She didn’t pull away. Considering she might have to, she wanted to feel his touch for a while longer.
He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been with anyone since Shane and Cecilia’s wedding.”
Out of all the things she’d been expecting, this had not been it. It shocked her. She still remembered that night with vivid clarity, still remembered going home and lying in her bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, torturing herself with what he was probably doing. But why would that confession change tonight? Her brow furrowed. “All right.”
“There’s more. Right before the wedding, I’d been on a bit of . . .” His hand tightened on hers. “Well . . . kind of a sex bender.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what constituted a sex bender to an NFL player. She shook her head. “I don’t need to hear this, Evan. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” His tone was soft.
Why was he doing this? All she wanted was to go inside and lose herself in all this heat and suppressed desire. She didn’t want to talk, but one look at the set of his jaw confirmed his determination to speak whatever was on his mind. She shifted in the leather seat. “Okay.”
“Even before my blow to the head, I’d been in a strange place. I was restless. It didn’t matter how hard I trained, or played, it was like something was missing. I didn’t understand it because in the past football had always cured my troubles. When it stopped working, I’d taken to increasingly reckless behavior, like surfing the Cyclops, and base jumping.”
“I remember. Shane was worried about you.” She cleared her throat. “So was I.”
A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “You and my brother, always wanting to take care of everyone and everything.”
It was true. They were cut from the same cloth that way. “That’s what makes us work.”
He stared out the front window. The garage door was still open, and despite living on a pretty, tree-lined street, the alley was narrow and dark. Full of shadows. “I’d been hooking up with Rafaela at the time, and I was going to bring her to the wedding, but then we got in a fight and she wasn’t speaking to me. A couple nights before the wedding, I was at a party, and things got out of control. I was with four or five girls that night, sometimes at the same time, I don’t really remember. That night was kind of a manic, crazy haze. After I was with one of them, I passed her off to my buddies like it was nothing. Like it was totally normal to have sex with someone, then tell her to go take care of your friend.”
Penelope had no idea why, now of all times, he was telling her this. She wanted to cover her ears and scream at him to stop, but stayed quiet. Instead she pulled her hand away. When he let her go, all the warm happiness and anticipation iced over, leaving her shaken and cold.
“The girl I brought to the wedding was from that night, and you were right, I didn’t remember her name. Still don’t.”
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, and looking stonily through the windshi
eld said in a flat voice, “I don’t want to hear this, Evan.”
She couldn’t stand it one more second. She didn’t care how it looked. She needed out of this car. Without waiting for him to respond, she fumbled with the handle before it finally released and she jumped from the car, slamming the door. Fumbling with her purse, she found her keys and pulled them out, sliding them into the door that led into the house.
Goddamn him.
Why tonight, of all nights, did he find it necessary to play true confessions?
Before the door sprung open he came up behind her and pulled her into his arms.
“Let me go,” she said, her voice filled with all the anger she was so damn tired of repressing.
“Just hear me out the rest of the way.” His lips brushed her ear when he spoke and she involuntarily trembled.
She ripped away. “No! I don’t want to hear about all your stupid conquests. I’ve had to watch them for all these years and now I have to hear about them too?” She opened the door and moved inside. She tried to slam it in his face, but he blocked her and the door slammed against the wall.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Penelope.” His voice loud now, not quite yelling but loud enough to show he was upset.
“Then why are you saying it? Right now, of all times?” She threw her purse into the laundry room and stalked down the hall. “Do I really need to hear about your last orgy?”
“I want you to understand.” Okay, now he was definitely yelling, which he had no right to. She was the wronged party here.
In the kitchen, fists clenched, she whirled on him. “Understand what? That you’ve fucked a lot of women?! I already know that, Evan. Everybody knows that. I don’t need your vivid little stories as confirmation.”
A muscle jumped along his jaw, as if he was attempting to contain himself. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? Because I really need you to get to it.”
He let out a frustrated sound, then took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. When he spoke, his calm voice did nothing to reassure her. No, instead it sent coldness slithering like a snake down her spine. “I wanted you to understand my state of mind at the time so I have a chance in hell at communicating just how much seeing you that night got to me.”
She stepped back and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “What?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “The night of Shane and Cecelia’s wedding, when I saw you on the balcony and I was with that girl, I don’t know, it did something to me. You just looked so . . . disappointed in me. So disgusted. And I hated it. In that moment all I wanted was for you to see me the way you used to. It took every ounce of willpower not to go after you. I wanted to break every rule we’d ever silently established. I broke away for a bit and tried to talk to you alone, do you remember?”
At least that finally made sense. She leaned against the counter. “I remember.”
“You said you were leaving and I wanted to stop you, to insist, but your expression stopped me and I let you go. I told myself it didn’t matter. That I could get any woman I wanted. That what happened between us all those years ago was just a couple of stupid kids. That you didn’t matter.”
She blinked, meeting his troubled gaze. They were only a couple of feet apart, but the distance seemed like a million miles. She exhaled. “I guess it worked.”
“No, Penelope, it didn’t work. That night when I took that girl home, and I had every intention of sleeping with her, in my fucked-up head it was a way to punish you. I took her home, stripped her. My head was full of you, how you looked in that purple dress, the way your hair brushed across your cheek, and all my memories of what we’d done. The girl laughed and I looked at her and something just snapped. It wasn’t the face I wanted to see, and no amount of pretending could make it so. So I left, and I haven’t been with anyone since.”
“What? Am I supposed to be happy that you pictured me while screwing some girl whose name you can’t even remember?”
He dragged his hand through his hair. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Feel bad that having a wild sex party, and treating women like objects wasn’t quite doing it for you anymore? Because it’s really hard to work up any sympathy right now.” God, she wanted to kill him. He’d ruined everything she’d wanted this night to be.
“Penelope,” he said before blowing out a long, frustrated breath. “No, I just want you to know I thought about you. I wanted to go to you.”
She tilted her chin. “If that’s true, why didn’t you?”
“I just—” He looked away, his fingers flexing before clenching into fists. “I didn’t know how. And I sure as hell didn’t know what I wanted. Then the season started, and I did what I always did and threw myself into the game. Then, after the hit, when I was in the hospital, I picked up the phone to call you a hundred times.”
They were words she’d wanted him to say, but it was all wrong. It was twisted somehow, mixing with all the times they’d been teenagers and she’d silently begged him to acknowledge her. To give her some sign that the things he’d done with her in that basement weren’t in her imagination. But he never had, he’d just walked off with his arm slung around Kim Rossi and didn’t look back. Throat impossibly tight, she croaked out, “You never called.”
A pained expression slid over his features. “What was I supposed to say, Pen? That I was a mess and needed you?”
Her shoulders slumped. He had no idea how she would have killed to hear those words. “Yes, that’s exactly what you should have said.”
“I couldn’t.”
Her heart thudded, hard and angry. “Why?”
He put his hand on his chest, as though imploring her to understand. “Think of it from my perspective. I’d treated you like shit for years, living out this fantasy of a life and practically throwing it in your face, and the second I’m told it’s over I come crawling back to you. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t.”
“But then I came to you.”
“You did.”
The sudden swell of tears filled her eyes and she turned away, putting her palms on the counter. Those two little words sinking deep into her stomach and festering like a boil of truth. She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. She’d wanted to avoid it. She’d wanted to forget the past and the future and give in to the constant temptation he invoked in her, but she could see now that wasn’t possible. With Evan, she never got what she wanted. She choked back her emotions. “It’s always the same song with us, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I always have to come to you.”
“I’m sorry.” His tone so somber she didn’t even have to turn around to see the resignation on his face.
She brushed the wetness from her cheeks.
“Should I go?”
No, she didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to fix this mess he’d made. But she knew he wouldn’t. She didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. Because she knew how it worked between them, how it would always work. She came to him. He gave up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft.
Still she remained silent, waiting for what she knew would come. He didn’t disappoint her. A minute later the door shut and she heard the roar of the engine.
She tried to contain the cry lodged in her throat, but it refused to stay down where it belonged and she burst into tears.
Some things never changed. This night encompassed her entire relationship with Evan.
A few hours of happiness followed by heartbreak.
* * *
Evan sat in his condo, staring out at his perfect view of the Chicago skyline, miserable and waiting. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing, but he didn’t think he had any other choice in the matter.
How did he manage to fuck up everything that was important to him?
It was his fatal flaw. Unlike Shane, everything Evan touched turned to sh
it, despite all his advantages. And the worst part was, it was always his own doing.
He’d had her. He’d be with her right now, in her bed, if he’d just kept his mouth shut. But he hadn’t been able to do that. No, he’d been compelled by some stupidity to be honest, to try and make her understand what she meant to him.
Only he’d done it in the worst possible way and now she hated him all over again.
It was like that last hit he’d replayed in his mind a million times since he’d woken up in that hospital bed. In slow, excruciating motion he watched himself going for the touchdown instead of taking the smart, safe path.
And now he’d made the same stupid mistake with Penelope.
He took a sip of the whiskey. At least he hadn’t taken to drinking straight from the bottle again. He guessed that was some sort of perverse progress in the mess of his life.
The private penthouse phone rang. He picked it up. “Let him up, Carl.”
That disembodied, banal voice. “Very well, sir.”
Evan took a deep breath. Well, this was it. He was tapping out and calling in reinforcements. Maybe this wasn’t his smartest decision, but he clearly didn’t know what he was doing and it was time to admit defeat.
Giving up Penelope all those years ago, despite his methods, had been the right thing to do.
What he didn’t know was if it was the right thing to do now. He didn’t trust himself with her. How could he be good for her if all he did was make her unhappy?
There was a knock on the door and with a sigh he walked over and opened it.
James stood there, a bottle in hand. He raised a brow at the glass in Evan’s hand. “You’ve already started.”
Evan stood back and let his brother in, experiencing an uncustomary string of nerves. “Yeah. Thanks for coming.”
“You’re my brother, I will always come.” James walked into the kitchen and pulled down two glasses. “Although I’ll admit I was surprised. You’re not much for talking.”
He wasn’t. He was making an exception for Penelope. To see if he could salvage the mess he’d made. Because if anything had come out of this, it was that he could no longer go back to the man he’d been before. He was no longer content to walk away from the carnage. He needed to fix things, even if that meant accepting that he’d never be good for her.
As Good as New Page 15
