by Cherrie Lynn
“It’s nothing,” she said, hearing the hollow weakness in her voice. “He’s just—”
“Are you sure this is Max?” Jared demanded, folding the note and shoving it in his pocket.
“Who else would it be?”
“Isn’t Ghost mad at you for being with me?”
“Don’t even go there. He would never do this, no matter how mad he is. Really, Jared, I know him and this isn’t him. Max is just mad because…well, in his twisted mind, I’m fucking every guy in the shop. He said as much today before Brian ran him off.”
“And he came back.”
“I guess so.”
“It wasn’t long ago either. This paper is damp, but it isn’t soaked like it would’ve been if he’d left it before the storm came through. I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.” He cast a glance around at their surroundings. “He could still be here watching us right now.”
“I won’t be alone. I have—”
“Roommates you can’t stand to go home to.”
“What do you expect me to do? It’s fine. Leave it alone. He’s just being an asshole, and he’d never do anything at my house.”
“You probably thought he’d never cause a problem at work either.”
“Jared, it’s fine. I’m going home. I’m not going to let him scare me.”
“I’m following you.”
She scoffed to hide how relieved she was. “Okay, whatever.” The fact was, she was getting more scared with everything Max did. And she hated herself for ever letting him near her in the first place. The thought of him touching her with his callous indifference, so bent on his own gratification, after the respect and reverence Jared had given her tonight turned her stomach. Never again.
Never, ever again.
Even before he let her get in her car, he gave it a once-over. Tires were good, no maniac hiding in the backseat. Then he followed her, his headlights a comfort in her rearview, and waited at the curb in front of her house—it was all she could do to make him stay in his truck and not let him make a sweep of the place before she entered. After she waved at him from the living room window, he finally drove away. At least they still had power. Even better, Doug had apparently found someone to actually sleep with him, so he was staying at that poor soul’s place for the night. Julie was just going to bed, so Starla piled on the couch and continued the Twilight Zone marathon that had been so beautifully interrupted earlier. She’d never think of “The Purple Testament” the same way again. Despite the ugly note she’d found, she was able to fall asleep with a smile on her face.
But there was always tomorrow to face.
***
When she got to work at two, Brian’s truck was already there. She groaned out loud, having hoped he wasn’t planning to come in today—having to face him after that shit yesterday wasn’t an idea she relished. Sighing as she let herself in the side door, she figured he would be in his office—he was—and would call her in as she passed by—he didn’t. She didn’t know if she was more relieved or pissed off by that.
It was maybe a little premature to think she could possibly be moving on. This thing she’d had for Brian had gone on too strong for too long—one night of getting her pussy licked wouldn’t undo years of pain and frustration over that man. She knew that. And she shouldn’t be resentful it had gone on for so long. It wasn’t Brian’s fault she’d thrown away so much time on adoring him. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. Her anger at everyone else was mostly a reflection of her anger at herself, she knew that. So she tried to remain pleasant, she tried to be nice. She chatted and did her work and even got along with Ghost. So it made her all the angrier when Brian caught her alone in the break room as she was getting coffee at the Keurig and opened with, “Why do I always feel like I need to ask you if you’re okay?”
What the fuck? Hadn’t she been acting okay? She didn’t look at him, focusing instead on stirring sugar into her cup. “I don’t know. Why do you?”
“Because you’re not okay, and I know it. I’ve always dumped my problems on you. Now you’re not returning the favor.”
“Brian…” Sighing, she stopped stirring and tossed the spoon into the sink, where it fell with a clatter. “Just leave it.” She was saying that too often lately.
“Fine.”
But he didn’t leave. She felt his presence lingering behind her. And lingering. And lingering.
Goddamn it. She faced him at last, leaving her cup untouched on the counter. “What does it matter?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then drew together. “The fuck you mean by that?”
“I’m always the one screwing up. I’m always the one who’s the walking fucking catastrophe around here. Getting shit on myself and everyone else, you said so yourself. So what surprise is it to any of you guys that I’ve finally gotten into something that’s over my head? You all knew it was coming.”
“We—or at least I—can help you if you’d just—”
“I don’t need or want your help. It’s one more debt I’ll owe you.”
“You don’t owe me shit. What the hell, where did all this come from?”
Starla rubbed her temples, where her pulse was beginning to throb. The words just came out. The words she’s been stewing over for weeks, the words hung up in her throat all this time… They just erupted. “I have to quit.”
Silence, absolute and postapocalyptic, stretched out for a full ten seconds—which didn’t sound like much but was really an eternity. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t breathe through the burning in her lungs. She was going to throw up.
When at last he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost dangerously so. “Quit what exactly?”
“Here. This.” She gestured around her, indicating the building as a whole. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Starla, don’t do this to me,” he said, still quiet, but now…Jesus. Destroyed.
No matter how she tried to hold the tears at bay, they welled in her eyes anyway, a cruel testament to the truth she’d just spoken. She had to go. It was the only solution. “I have to.”
“Did I do something? Because you’ll have to refresh my memory if I did. I know that shit yesterday wasn’t cool, but we’ve had worse, haven’t we?”
“Yes. No. I mean…it wasn’t something you did.” He’d done nothing except find the love of his life, nothing except drive home what a failure, what a complete fuckup she was.
“Did someone else?”
“No!”
Ghost took that inopportune moment to stroll into the room. He looked at Brian, looked at Starla’s streaming eyes, held up both hands in surrender, and walked back out.
“It’s not him, is it?” Brian asked once Ghost was out of earshot.
She scoffed. Admitting he was part of the problem would lead to admitting to her feelings for Jared, and she wasn’t ready to hear Brian’s opinion on that either. “I became immune to his bullshit years ago.”
“You have to talk to me. I can’t just…accept this.”
“As my boss, you’re gonna have to.”
“What about as your friend?”
I can’t be your friend anymore.
She couldn’t be his anything. The shot of pain through her chest at the thought was so severe that she winced. If she was going to move on, if she ever had a chance at getting herself together and getting past this, leaving here was the only option. The game was over. It had lasted too long, gone into overtime, and the sole player was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
Brian saw he wasn’t making any headway with the near-sobbing female in his company, so he sighed and shifted his weight, getting fidgety like he always did when he was upset. “Are you at least giving me some kind of notice?”
She could do that, couldn’t she? He only came in two or three days a week—surely she could suck it up that much, but only if he could promise not to put her through this every time she saw him. “I’ll stay a couple of weeks. Maybe even more, I don’t know�
��maybe I can stay until you find a replacement. I just wanted you to know where my head is at.”
“I don’t know where your fucking head is at,” he snapped.
“Brian—”
“This is bullshit, Star. We’ve been through too much together for you to leave me hanging without any kind of explanation.”
“I can’t. Please.” She didn’t think she’d ever been so close to begging in her life. The look in his blue eyes… She couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take it and couldn’t make it better, so her only option was to flee from it. But he stood between her and the door, and he didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon.
This was the problem, she supposed, with being close friends with the people you worked with. When everyone was happy and getting along, there was no better situation. But once hurt feelings entered the equation—and those were inevitable at some point, weren’t they?—it was a recipe for disaster. Before, they’d all been able to scream at each other, then hug it out and carry on. Not this time.
“If I crossed a line yesterday—”
“You didn’t. It’s not that. I said leave it alone. Why can’t you just leave it the fuck alone?”
“Because you’re wrong to do this, and you know you’re fucking wrong. But, hey, whatever you want. Walk away. Go ahead.”
They’d gotten loud enough that conversation up front had died out. Whether everyone was intentionally eavesdropping or simply uncomfortable with the unfolding argument, she didn’t know.
“Brian,” she said softly, attempting to catch her breath, “I’ll promise you this. If there was anything you could do to make this better, I would tell you. I promise. But it’s unfixable. You are…you’re wonderful. You’re…” Everything I want in life? Everything I can’t have? “You’re the best boss ever, and you’ve been one of my best friends since we both got started in this business.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t get it.”
It almost pissed her off. No, it kinda did piss her off. All this time, and he didn’t know? He didn’t realize just a little, he didn’t have one single suspicion? What the hell? She’d had roughly three conversations with Jared before he figured it out. Not that she wanted Brian to know. She’d never wanted him to. But it suddenly became clear to her that the alternative was that he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest, or even worse: he knew, he saw it, and he didn’t care.
Her racing heart cracked and shattered. She shook all over as she spoke her next words.
“Don’t you? I mean, really? Don’t you get it a little, at least?”
Humiliation bit a vile black hole through her as she watched his expression fall, but she was sick of humiliation. So, so fucking sick of it. She’d rather face it, deal with it once and for all, and leave it behind. Maybe if she’d dealt with it a long time ago, things would be different right now.
And poor Brian; he’d gone pale right before her eyes—quite a feat for his gorgeous olive complexion. Well, he’d wanted to know. Now he did.
“Come on,” he said, turning toward the door and walking out without another word. He took a right down the hallway, heading toward his and Candace’s office.
Starla’s heart shot from the pit of her stomach to the base of her throat, choking her. She had two choices: follow him or run and never come back. Helplessly, she chose to follow him, noting that the conversation in the front picked back up at their brief appearance. Ugh. Shoot me now.
Brian waited until she’d entered the room and shut the door behind them. She positively shook with her heartbeat now and, frustratingly, her earlier tears had yet to dry. Sighing, he took up his usual position, whether he was bullshitting with his employees or chewing their asses out—or hearing confessions of unrequited love, apparently: leaning against the front of his desk. She chose to remain standing close to the door. Easier to run that way.
“I do get it,” he said at last, just when she thought she might start screaming if only to fill the intolerable silence between them. He opened his mouth to go on.
“Wait,” she put in quickly. “Let me get this out first. There is no way, no fucking way on this planet that I would try to interfere with what you have. That isn’t what this is about. I want you to know that. In fact, I could never show my face again if I thought you—”
“I already know that. If you didn’t feel that way, you would’ve already tried to interfere with it. I know that besides whatever else goes on in your head, you’re a damn good person. One of the best.”
“No,” she said miserably, “I’m not. Candace would hate me. She’s…she’s like my little sister.”
“I don’t think Candace is capable of hating anybody. Especially her big sister. Now let me go on.” She hated that she noticed the way his broad shoulders expanded when he drew a deep breath. “Like I said, I get it. Star—I’m only going to say this once, and I don’t know if it’ll make things better or worse. But I can’t see how they could get much worse. So here goes. I’d be lying through my teeth if I told you the thought of you and me had never crossed my mind before Candace came along. You are beautiful. You’re hilarious and you’re crazy talented. We understand each other in a way I don’t think anyone else could. I realize that, and I cherish it.”
“Thank you,” she told him softly. “I do too.”
“The last thing I want to do is lose it. Which is probably why I never made a move back then, because I was such a fuckup myself that I didn’t want to fuck us up. I care about you so much. But she came along and…” He trailed off, and Starla was both warmed by the light in his eyes and heartbroken by it. Ever since they’d sat in a bar one night a lifetime ago while he’d been drowning his sorrows over Candace during their rocky inception, she’d seen that light. She’d known then he was gone.
“I know,” she said. “You don’t have to explain.”
“She’s it for me,” he finished simply. “She was the go-for-broke one I couldn’t do without.”
“I know,” she repeated. “And that’s seriously awesome. You guys are magic together. I see it. Happiness is all I’ve ever wanted for you. You deserve it. At the same time, though, it hurts. It hurts a lot.” And what he’d said was accurate—she didn’t know if the pain was made better or worse by knowing that she might’ve had a shot if she’d only spoken up. “It’s not getting better for me. Imagine seeing Candace with someone else day after day after day.”
“I’d kill someone,” he said grimly. “But you can’t say that you feel about me the same way—”
“Don’t,” she warned him. “Don’t you dare assume you know how this feels. Don’t. You have no idea.”
He simply stared at her for a moment. She bravely held his gaze until he dropped it to the floor near her shoes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t either. So I said ‘I quit.’ Make sense now? Best to let it go. There isn’t a solution.”
“If I can come up with one, would you consider it?”
“Like what?”
“I have an idea. Let me think on it.”
She shrugged. “I’m open to anything, I guess. I don’t want to leave. I just feel like I don’t have a choice.”
“You know my highest wish for you is that you’ll find what I have. You deserve it.”
She waved that off. “No one can put up with my crazy for long.”
“Hey,” Brian said seriously. “Ghost found someone to put up with him. You should be a cakewalk. Just stop with these assholes who don’t know shit about how to treat you, or even realize what they have in you. Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it there.”
She knew that. At last, she knew that. Jared made her feel like no one else ever had, like her heart had been ten sizes too small and it was finally catching up with the rest of her. But she couldn’t be around for Brian and Ghost and everyone else to watch that fall to pieces too. For once, she had a little hope, so it was going to make it that much more humiliating if it didn’t work.
As if this moment wa
sn’t humiliating enough. But at least it was done. The weight she’d carried all these years should be gone, but it was crushing her more than ever. Now she had to go. A chapter in her life was closing. Brian would tell Candace—he wouldn’t keep something like this from her. No matter how sweet and understanding Candace was, she wouldn’t understand this. She wouldn’t be sweet about this.
“Well,” Brian said finally, after silence had stretched for too many long, uncomfortable seconds. He sounded lost, disillusioned, more than a little bewildered. “Keep me informed.”
“I will.” She couldn’t get out the door fast enough, leaving him staring after her.
Chapter Fifteen
Brian Ross yawned as he slipped out the side door of Dermamania. It wasn’t late enough to be yawning, at least not in his old, pre-baby life, but it didn’t matter anymore—a six-week-old didn’t give a shit what time it was, and he and Candace had been up most of the night before. Lyric liked to party all night and sleep all day, and Candace didn’t have it in her heart to keep him awake during the daylight hours so he would sleep at night.
But his bone-deep weariness wasn’t all due to sleep deprivation. Of all damn times for Starla to drop such a bomb on him. Now he had that to figure out, and he dreaded the fallout. Candace was fairly easygoing and certainly secure in their relationship, but he didn’t know how she would react to this. It wasn’t something he’d dare keep from her; he only hoped it wouldn’t kick up a big shit storm when he proposed his solution. He also hoped it wasn’t an idiotic solution. It would leave them fucked at the shop for a while, but it might be good for Star if she would go for it.
His brain was exhausted from mulling it over, so he shifted his thoughts to Candace and Lyric waiting for him at home. It was always the greatest sight to walk in the door to Candace’s sweet, tired face beaming with new-mother pride over Lyric’s tiny, miraculous perfection. Candace had sent a text ten minutes ago: Come on home, baby. Lyric and I miss you. He hadn’t been able to get his shit together fast enough. Being at work and away from his family was the absolute last thing he wanted. How did people do it? The tiniest sound could remind him of Lyric’s heartbreaking cry, and his damn concentration was right out the window from thinking about his son and his wife and how much he missed them. And they were only across town.
