Conor Thames (Blackwater Boys Book 1)
Page 21
Love is like a colossal theme park. The rides start out small, but they get bigger and bigger, until you’re flying down a rollercoaster going 150mph. You leave your heart at the top of the ride and he takes it and watches you at the top plummet. Your stomach drops and your body quakes and you want your heart back because you’re scared the ride’s going too fast and you’re not going to make it.
Love’s a wild ride, and it was messing with my head. I still wanted my own life separate from Conor, but at the same time, I couldn’t stand being away from him longer than a few hours. I couldn’t remember what I did before him. How did I spend my time? What the hell did I do? It was that dependency at the beginning of falling in love. You want to keep it and treasure it, and you couldn’t stand turning your back on it for a second for fear it would leave you.
I watched him from my table as he spoke to Jem from behind the counter of his bar. I saw the affection behind Jem’s eyes as he spoke excitedly to Conor.
After a solid month of taking shit apart and putting it back together again, he’d finished rebuilding the engine for the car this afternoon, and all he needed to do now was give the car a chrome paint job. I’d never seen Conor so pumped.
“He’s going to make a pretty dime out of that car,” Megan said, looking at him too with a proud smile. She took a sip out of her beer and I watched as she set it down on the table, thinking of Conor’s family and what he’d said about the men and their alcohol.
I smiled politely at her and nodded. It was a token response. I’d been up late last night talking to Conor in bed, and I was depleted. I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” she chuckled.
“Yeah,” I forced out. “Long night.”
The silence with Conor’s mom was always awkward. Usually, I’d be grasping for a topic, but today I couldn’t be bothered. For once, it was her scrambling.
“I hear you’re going to college,” she began.
“Yeah,” I said. God, did I lose my vocabulary overnight?
“Well, good for you. I wanted to study too at your age but couldn’t.”
“Why?”
She gestured to Conor. “I fell pregnant.”
“But you’re a nurse.”
“I went back to school ten years ago, determined to do something. I wanted to be able to look after Ember. I’d left Conor’s dad and started over.”
“I know it means little coming from me, but that’s very impressive.” I gave her a warm smile.
Ember was lucky to have a mother like her and a brother like Conor. She was hardly ever present, though, and had barely come around to see her brother. I chalked it up to being a mother to Lily, but then Megan had let slip she was babysitting Lily more than usual lately. Luckily, that went under Conor’s radar. He would have been sniffing around if he knew, and Megan begged me not to bring it up.
I hated being caught in the middle like that. It made me not want to know the small secrets. The middleman was always left to burn when shit blew up, which was excessive for someone who didn’t want the responsibility to begin with.
“It means a lot to me,” she clarified, staring at me in this strange loving way. I wasn’t used to it, and I felt a little uncomfortable.
I glanced at Conor again and then braved a question. “Why did you leave his dad?”
She didn’t look upset I’d asked, thank God. She kept that pleasant smile on her face, quietly answering, “He had a way of blocking us out. He would get so focused in his own problems, he forgot we existed. I felt like a roommate, and then he’d get angry and run his mouth, and he turned on me, like I was to blame for all the bullshit and all the problems. When, really, I’d just be child-rearing his goddamn children. Conor went off the rails during one of his prison stints, and when he got out, he said I was the reason Conor couldn’t control himself. Well, at that point, I’d had enough. He was drinking more, and in a drunken stupor, he slapped me in the kitchen in front of Conor for accidentally throwing out this fucking battery to a flashlight he’d left sitting on the damn counter for weeks.
“I hadn’t thrown his fucking battery out. Didn’t even know what he was talking about. But when I stood there, too afraid to defend myself and having to watch my son step in and use his fists to shut him up, it was then I knew. The marriage had run its course and I wasn’t in love with this man anymore. He was nothing like he used to be. Or, maybe, he always had been, and I was too in love to see it.”
Heavy silence fell between us. She took a large gulp of her beer, a nostril of hers flaring at the memory. When she put it down, it slammed hard, and she levelled me with a look that made my heart pause.
“I don’t want Conor to wind up like his dad,” she told me, solemnly. “It is my biggest fear.”
Her eyes misted over, and now I felt truly shitty for bringing that up. Still a little uncomfortable, I mustered the courage to lean forward and grip her hand in kindness. Megan smiled at the gesture, looking appreciative.
“I like you,” she whispered.
I liked her too. She was sweet but strong. If she’d been weak ever in her life, it didn’t show. Megan Thames had lived a hard life, but there was still so much life left in her, and she made sure all of it went to her children and granddaughter.
“Are we going to eat?” she then asked, grabbing at the menu we’d forgotten about.
My stomach twisted. I rubbed it, feeling a wave of nausea. “I’m not hungry.”
Her eyes fell to my stomach. “You okay, sweetie?”
“I don’t know. I’m tired and have a migraine. My belly’s flip-flopping.”
“Sounds like you’re due for your period. I’ve got a pill in my purse that’ll help with that.” She grabbed her bag and fetched a bottle of painkillers.
I stared at the bottle, so tired, my limbs ached. I watched her open it and slide a pill in front of me. She told me to drink up, but I stared at the pill and felt like I was going to pass out. Something occurred to me. Something I was adamant couldn’t be right, but…
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Chapter Fifteen
Thames
Charlotte spent most of her night in the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet violently. When he’d been with her, stroking her hair and holding it back every time she heaved into the toilet bowl, he’d catch the look on her face. It wasn’t the look of someone who was sick.
It was different.
He tried to dissect this look, gently prodding for information, but Charlotte was a locked box every time she held back on him. He couldn’t figure her out in this mode.
When she was finally feeling better, he stripped her and put under the hot shower spray. He washed her head to toe, stroking her face between the moments. She wouldn’t meet his eye. Frowning, he carried her in a towel to the bed and threw her under the light covers. Figuring she wanted to be alone, he moved to leave when she abruptly grabbed his arm and stared pleadingly at him.
“Hold me, Conor. Please.”
What in the fuck…
Women were sketchy little things. One second pushing them away, and the next gripping them like they were their anchor. He climbed into the bed with his back against the headboard and she crawled against him, burying her head between his neck and shoulder.
“Sorry I’ve been off,” she murmured.
“Nah, don’t be,” he replied, running his hand down her bare spine. “You’re sick, pup.”
“Do you care about me?”
With furrowed brows, he looked down at her, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She kept her face into his chest, breathing him in.
“I’m crazy about you, Charlotte,” he told her. “Haven’t I proven myself?”
Jesus, he was rat fucking shit with relationships. He actually thought he was doing kind of alright. Had he been misreading the signs? He fucked her daily, got her pink flowers once a week, even made her breakfast a few times – totally and utterly pussy-whipped.
“You waited eight months for me. You plucked me out of school and gave me a roof over my head. Conor, you’ve gone above and beyond.”
“And I get you flowers.” This was critical. He’d never done that, and he felt he deserved some accolades.
She laughed against his chest, and he smirked. “Yeah, you do.”
“So, what’s the problem? Why are you asking if I care about you?”
She sucked in a breath. “I don’t know. I’m…I’m worried about something and I don’t know how to process things right now.”
“Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She wouldn’t answer. Okay, he would have to try a different tactic.
“Does it have to do with me?”
She nodded against him.
“Are you scared of how I’d react to it?”
She nodded again.
Alright, this was easy.
“Nothing is going to scare me away,” he assured her.
“You promise?”
Fuck, what was getting to her?
“I promise.”
She relaxed in response. He nodded to himself. He had this in the bag. If he made promises like this every once in a while, he was going to master this relationship business. Men were going to line-up with their broken missus problems and beg the way of the master, and he would stun them with his discoveries.
Step one: Make sure there’s a bond. If she tries to run the opposite way, don’t chase her. That’s stalker-ish and kind of fucked up.
Step two: Fuck her every chance you get. Make her feel like her body is an oasis. Treat her like a lady outta the bed, but she’s your kinky little minx after 8pm. Let her know your dick gets hard for her and only her and make her feel used and dirty. Women like that disparity –it didn’t make sense, but women don’t make sense either.
Step three: Do romantic shit. Buy her pink flowers and watch Titanic together. Take her out to dinner and foot the bill because being a gentleman makes her cock-hungry, but she’ll express it makes her feel cherished (we all know the truth).
See? He was getting the hang of this already. He wasn’t a complete fuck up. For the first time in…well, his whole life…Thames felt like he was in control of himself.
The monster within was finally asleep.
Charlotte
“You look green,” Ellen remarked, watching me a little too intently after I passed the coffee to the latest customer.
“That’s impossible,” I mumbled.
I had no patience today. My mind was going to blow up. My stomach was swirling like a vortex. I couldn’t even hack the smell of coffee. Everything stunk and tasted gross.
“Saying you look green is an expression,” she explained.
“Okay,” I muttered out.
Was it possible to die of a migraine? I was tempted to split my head open with an axe. Every time I finished with a customer, I bent over and gripped the counter, inhaling in and out.
“People are going to think you’re hungover,” Ellen whispered. “It’s very unprofessional.”
“Fuck, Ellen, I’m not feeling good.”
“I’m just joking.”
I groaned and stood back up. “I’m going to gag.”
“You’re a spitter?” I gave her the look of death and she looked apologetic. “Sorry, I can’t help myself. Too many erotica books for a virgin.”
Despite feeling like death, I cracked a smile. I liked Ellen.
“Why don’t you go home, and I’ll cover for you?” she offered.
I felt stumped with her generosity. I blinked at her in surprise. “Are you for real?”
She nodded, looking genuine. “You haven’t been yourself all week. You look like you’re going to hurl. If I were you, I’d run to the pharmacy and buy yourself a test.”
I almost lost my balance and had to grip the counter. She smiled at my shock and shrugged. “My sister just had a kid. I know pregnancy when I see it, and Thames shot and scored by the looks of it.”
I took time to answer. I stared absent-mindedly at the espresso machine, terror gripping me to the core at the possibility. It’d been floating in my subconscious all week, since the pub, since I saw that goddamn pill and remembered the first time Conor had fucked me. I hadn’t taken my pill the next day. He’d driven me to Jamie’s house, but I’d grabbed my make-up and uniform and forgotten the goddamn pill.
Realistically, I knew my chances were still low, but when you’ve been around the block on sites like Reddit, it wasn’t all that uncommon.
Plus, I was late. Really, really late.
“Okay, I need to go,” I said, feeling panicked.
“You have to tell me something first,” Ellen said, stopping me in my tracks.
“What?”
Gripping me by the arm, she demanded, “Is he big?”
I rolled my eyes, a laughter bubbling up my throat. “He is…huge.”
Ellen’s ovaries exploded before my eyes. I hurried, thanking her half a million times before I was out of there.
*
I wandered down the aisles of the pharmacy, searching. I was biting my nail, nervously coming to a stop in front of the pink and white rectangle boxes. Fear gripped me and my fingers trembled as I reached for the test.
I took it and quickly raced to the self-check out machine. I purchased the box in one quick scan and threw it in the most transparent shopping bag known to mankind. I raised the bag to my face, staring at the clear logo through the bag.
Like, are you fucking serious?
I couldn’t walk around with this bag. I looked around the pharmacy, catching the toilet signs in the far back. I finished paying and hurried to the female toilet, but the knob was locked and I shook it in frustration.
“You can’t do that,” said a teeny bopper behind the counter nearby, popping her gum. “It’s locked. It won’t open when it’s locked.”
I blinked once at the door. I was unusually irritated. Seriously, it was like pms-ing x 1000. I trudged to the counter and glared into the brunette teen’s baby blue eyes. Her hair was up, but it was up sideways, almost on the side of her head, but not quite. I didn’t understand the point of it.
I couldn’t deal with this right now.
“Can I have the key?”
She leaned over the counter and stared down at my bag. “I need to know what you’re taking in there first.”
“That’s private.”
She looked at me like she didn’t give a fuck. “That’s the rule. I don’t make them.”
With a long sigh, I raised the bag high and shook it. She turned her head sideways and squinted.
“I don’t know what that is,” she said. “You have to actually pull it out. I don’t know what it is.”
I heard the door to the pharmacy open and glanced back at an old lady making her way in. On another sigh, I opened the bag and pulled out the box and slammed it on the counter in front of her. This chick – Lydia read her name-tag – actually picked it up and opened it. What the fuck?
When she caught my glare, she shrugged again, not a single fuck given. “I have to make sure no one is going to shoot up in there. My manager’s really serious about people shooting up in the bathroom.”
I didn’t understand why she was explaining things twice to me in a row in one go. Instead, I watched her open the box and pull the test out.
“I’m just making sure this isn’t a needle,” she carried on. “Because my manager’s found needles in the toilet.”
“Okay,” I forced out. “Are you satisfied there isn’t a needle in the pregnancy test box that was already taped shut to begin with?”
She actually thought about it first before nodding. “I’m satisfied.”
Okay, let’s speed this along.
Sh
e passed it back to me along with the key. Just as I went to leave, she said, “I also need to make sure there’s nothing in your pockets.”
I was going to strangle this girl.
I flipped the pockets of my shorts inside-out.
“All your pockets,” she stressed. “Like, all of them.”
Turning my back to her so she could see my ass, I pointed to my butt pockets and said, “They’re not real pockets.”
Now she made a face, like this offended her. “That’s weird. So weird.”
“Can I go now?”
This time she raised a thumbs-up at me. On the way to the bathroom, she yelled, “Good luck with your pregnancy test!”
I spent the next hour crying on the toilet.
Chapter Sixteen
Thames
Thames thought he had it under control, but Charlotte was back to being dissociative again. She barely ate, barely spoke. Over the whole week, she was hardly at the house and out with her friend Nora, or Laura, or Dora. It was one of those fucking names.
When Jem came around to check on the car, Thames didn’t realize how much it was fucking with his head until he said, “How the fuck do you keep a girl, man?”
Jem gave him a funny look, staring between him and the car. “I’m not following.”
“I’m trying my fucking hardest.”
“You have. You’re like a changed man.”
“She’s been running out of the house the whole week. Are chicks like that?”
He could tell Jem just wanted to talk about the car, but he didn’t give a fuck. He needed some input, some fucking iota of advice or he was going to start hearing those fucking thoughts come at him again.
“She’s young, Conor.” Jem heaved a shrug. “You’ve never been with a girl her age. Wasn’t it for this very reason?”
No, it wasn’t for that reason. He just had a thing for older women. He liked their experience. Liked their no bullshit take on fucking. They knew what they wanted and there wasn’t any danger of lines being crossed. It was hot at the time. But that was old news now.