All I Want

by J. Daniels

  But it feels raw.

  Luke Evans has opened up another wound inside me.

  And, right now, I just want to bleed out and die.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Twelve months of trying to forget about someone and all that hard work got shot to shit when I allow her to drag me into a bedroom. A closed off, secluded spot, where I damn well knew my struggles would be amplified. I could’ve protested. I could’ve pulled away from her and continued blatantly flirting with… Lucy? Lena? No. Fuck, whatever her name was. But I didn’t, because I knew what was coming. I knew I was pushing Tessa to her breaking point, and I fucking wanted to see that snap.

  Because there is one thing that can make my dick go from six to midnight in a matter of seconds.

  Tessa’s mouth.

  And as soon as she opens it, and those filthy words come flying at me with enough force to knock a weaker man off balance, that’s it. I can challenge her all day, getting in her face and pretending that shit doesn’t get to me, but my cock says otherwise.

  I’m prepared for it. I fucking know I’ll get hard the minute she lashes out, but what I’m not prepared for is her reaction to it.

  I’d say she has bigger balls than me if I didn’t know every fucking detail of what she has between her legs.

  She didn’t palm my dick and ask whom I was hard for. She demanded I tell her. And the combination of the ultimatum that had flashed in her eyes the moment that question slipped from her lips, and the feel of her hand against me was too much. She’d grabbed my cock like she fucking owned it, silently daring me to say she didn’t, and suddenly, I’d been the one at my breaking point.

  It’s possible to hate someone, to look at them and wish you weren’t aware of their every move, and to want them more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

  I hadn’t cared that we were in her parents’ house.

  I hadn’t cared that I was about to fuck up any and all progress I’d made on getting this chick out of my system.

  Her hand had been on my dick, and there was no way in hell I wasn’t touching her.

  And fuck, the feel of her coating my fingers as I slid through the hottest pussy I’ve ever had, has me close to coming from a fucking hand-job in a matter of seconds. That, and the fact that no one has squeezed my dick like that since Tessa. No one. I’ve had mouths on me that don’t come anywhere close to her grip.

  That’s a problem. And it’s making getting off on the feel of anyone else near impossible.

  But in that moment, with my fingers deep inside her, I didn’t care about anyone else. She was right there, pulsing against me, so fucking close I could feel her heartbeat between her legs. She told me to stop but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I hated her but I needed this.

  Just give me this; the part of you I never doubted.

  But she didn’t.

  And then it was my hand around my cock as she left me on the edge with remorse and hurt in her eyes.

  At me.

  At herself.

  I started choking on my own emotions as the situation sank in. As I realized how completely pathetic I was for letting this chick get to me. Again. And I’d needed to get the hell out of there. Away from her. Putting distance between us is the only thing that ever helps. And it doesn’t even help that much.

  Because even though I’ve gone mostly all twelve months we’ve been apart without seeing her, I still think about her constantly.

  Like right now.

  It’s been four days since the baby shower—enough time to get most chicks out of my system, but not this one. I’ve been staring at the same spot on the floor as Ben and CJ, another cop in our precinct, talk about an arrest Ben and I made yesterday. I could contribute. I was there, for fuck’s sake, but I’m too busy picturing the look on Tessa’s face when she shoved me away from her on Saturday.

  As if my touch repulsed her.

  As if her own actions disgusted her.

  “Luke.”

  I look up, seeing two pairs of eyes on me as I run my thumb over the coin in my hand. I focus on CJ, whose voice broke me out of my head. “Yeah?”

  He stands from his perch on the edge of the desk, reaching around and pulling out his wallet. “You want anything from Chap’s?”

  “No, man. I’m good.”

  He acknowledges me with a nod, thumbing through the cash in his wallet. “Spot me a twenty, Kelly. I’m good for it.”

  Ben laughs from the chair behind his desk. “You’re good for shit. You still owe me from the poker game three weeks ago.”

  CJ’s eyes lose focus as he tucks his wallet away. “Fuck. I forgot about that.”

  “That’s funny. I’ve only been reminding you every other day,” Ben says, the sarcasm coating his words. He leans back, smiling. “Just have it for me by Friday morning. I’m taking off early to get on the road with Mia.”

  “Yeah, all right. I’ll see you guys.”

  “Later,” Ben responds, before his keyboard clicks with his typing. I’ve zoned out again, but this time it doesn’t go unnoticed. “You all right over there?”

  I turn the coin over a few more times before glancing up at him. I slip it into my front pocket and tuck my hands behind my head, leaning back in my chair. “How’s Mia feeling about the trip this weekend?”

  I see his reaction to the question I’ve dodged, but he doesn’t pry. He scratches the back of his head, keeping his other hand on the keyboard. “She’s anxious, I can tell. But she really wants to spend the anniversary of her mom’s death in Fulton. She’s got all this stuff she wants to do with Nolan that the two of them used to do. I just…” He blinks heavily, bringing both hands to his lap as he leans back. “I don’t want this to be too hard on her. With the baby coming soon, she doesn’t need to be upset or stressed out. And I hate seeing her sad. It fucking kills me.”

  I see the depth of his feelings for Mia every time he talks about her. Or looks at her. It’s been like that since last summer, when she showed up and completely knocked him on his ass. No other girl has done that to Ben. Not since I’ve known him, anyway. I know if something happened to her, to Nolan, it would kill him. He wouldn’t come back from it.

  “Mia’s tough,” I say, seeing Ben lift his eyes to me. “She’s probably a lot tougher than you give her credit for.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He scratches his head before leaning forward and typing on his keyboard again. “Does it get easier?”

  “No,” I quickly reply, not needing to think about it. After twelve years it hasn’t gotten easier, and I’ve stopped believing that it will.

  He looks over at me, frowning, and I suddenly feel like a complete shit for not filtering my outburst.

  I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees as I crack my knuckles. “It’ll get easier for Mia. She has you, Nolan, and the baby. It won’t always be this difficult for her. It’s still raw right now, but every year, it’ll ease up a bit.” I put so much conviction in my voice that I almost start to believe it. But the reality of my situation quickly crushes any false hope that could seep into my head and poison what I know to be certain. It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t say it for my reassurance. I said it for his.

  “Thanks, man.” His look tells me he thinks it’ll get easier for me too, and I nod as if I agree. He turns back to his computer screen, leaning closer. “Well, this guy my sister is going out with is either a fucking ghost, or he’s never done so much as run a stop sign. I can’t find him in here.”

  “What’s his name?” I ask, hitting a few keys and pulling up our search system.

  He looks over at me. “I just looked. He’s not in there.”

  “And you spell for shit. What’s his name?”

  He laughs, standing and grabbing his coffee mug before rounding his desk. “Tyler Knight. Real complicated spelling.”

  I ignore his teasing tone as he walks away and type in this creep’s name. The hourglass spins as it searches before the three words I was hoping I w
ouldn’t see pop up on my screen.

  Search not found.

  Fuck. If I had more than just his name, I could search for him in our other system and pull up his license. Then I’d have an idea what this guy looks like, where he lives, if he’s a fucking organ donor.

  The phone on my desk rings and I close out the search engine and answer it.

  “Evans.”

  “Hey, Luke. Come in to my office for a second, will ya?”

  The captain’s voice has me on my feet. “Yes, Sir. I’ll be right there.”

  I hang up and walk around my desk, passing Ben. “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “Captain wants to see me.”

  I walk across the room and knock on the door at the end of the hallway.

  “Yeah?” the voice behind it calls out.

  Pulling the door open, I step into the office and see Captain Meyers behind his desk, flipping through a stack of paperwork. The smell of old wood and cigars fills the air, and I spot a snuffed out stub hanging on the edge of the ashtray on his desk. Captain looks up and motions toward an empty chair across from him. “Have a seat, son.”

  Son. He always calls me that. He’s the only person who has called me that in twelve years.

  I close the door behind me and take a seat, nervously picking at the wood on the arm of my chair. I’m not called in this office much, the last time being when this asshole I arrested claimed I was too rough with him. I hadn’t been, and Ben had vouched for me, but the captain still reamed me out for it.

  Not that the guy didn’t deserve to get his ass beat by me. But I’d never do anything to risk my job. Out of uniform, though, I would’ve knocked him around a little. Or a lot.

  The larger than life man across the desk, who always reminds me of John Goodman, picks up a file that’s laid off to the side and opens it in front of him. He clears his throat, running a hand over his goatee. “I got a call today from Captain Kennedy over in Port Deposit. Seems he has a spot open for detective in his unit and requested you by name.” He licks his thumb and proceeds to flip through the papers in the file. Pulling out one, he hands it to me from across the desk. “You still interested in making detective?”

  “Yeah,” I answer, a bit of shock in my voice as I take the paper and read the print across the top. It’s the form we have to fill out when we request to be transferred. The form I’ve never bothered reading until now.

  “If you’re interested, I think you’d do really well over there. I know you and Ben have talked about becoming detectives for years. You’d be damn good at it.”

  I look up. “What about Ben? There’s only one spot open?”

  He nods, closing the file and leaning back in his chair. “Ben wouldn’t move right now; not with the baby coming in a few weeks. And he has roots here.” He gives me an empathetic look, one I’m used to seeing, before continuing. “How’s your dad doing?”

  I shrug, because that’s all I can give him. I don’t talk about my dad. He’s practically dead to me.

  His phone rings loudly and he puts his hand on the receiver, not picking it up. “The spot’s yours if you want it. Kennedy will want an answer from you soon.”

  I stand, folding the paper up and putting it into my pocket. “Thanks, Captain.”

  He nods before bringing the receiver to his ear. “Meyers.”

  I slip out of his office, pulling the door closed behind me. I’ve always thought about making detective in Ruxton, not transferring somewhere to do it. But who knows when a spot here will open up. It could be years before I’m given an opportunity like this again, if it even happens. And, like Captain said, Ben has roots here. I don’t. There’s nothing keeping me here.

  There never has been.

  “What was that about?” Ben asks as I return to my desk.

  I slide my chair out and sit down, reaching up and scratching the back of my neck. “There’s a detective position open in Port Deposit. Captain offered it to me.”

  Ben’s eyes widen as he sips his coffee. “Really? Shit, that’s awesome. Are you going to take it?”

  I pull the transfer paperwork out of my pocket and stick it in the top drawer of my desk. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve wanted this for a long time. It’ll be weird, though. Having a different partner.” I look over at him. “I’m used to your dumb ass.”

  He laughs. “You’ll have to give me your new partner’s number so I can warn him about all the annoying shit you do.” He pauses, placing his mug on his desk. “Are you going to tell Tessa?”

  “Why would I tell Tessa?” I ask, annoyance in my voice, and suddenly pissed off at the hidden implication that I should be telling her. “What the fuck does it matter to her what I do? She dumped me—remember? She kept something from me I deserved to know about. And according to her, we were never even together.” I take in a calming breath, trying to swallow down the rage that’s burning the back of my throat. “She’s a deceitful bitch.”

  “Hey,” he warns me with a raised voice, bringing my attention back to his face. “I get how pissed off you probably feel about what happened between you two, but don’t talk about her in front of me like that. I’ve stayed out of it, but I won’t if you call her that again.”

  I grind my teeth, holding in my rebuttal as I lean back in my chair. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But no, I’m not going to tell her. She gave up the right to know shit about me when she ended it.”

  He laughs quietly before he replies. “Yeah, because when you two were together, you were an open fucking book.”

  I scowl at the insinuation in his voice, shaking my head, and busying myself with arrest logs I need to fill out. “Whatever, man. I just need to get out of here. You have shit here worth staying for. I don’t.”

  I keep my head down as I fill out my form, not wanting to glance over and see the concerned stare I know he’s giving me. He doesn’t respond in any other way, which I’m grateful for. I don’t need to hear how this move may or may not affect his sister. I don’t care. Maybe moving to the other side of the state will be the distance I need to finally forget about her. Because staying in the same town and not seeing her isn’t doing shit.

  ***

  Ben doesn’t bring up his sister for the rest of the day, but that doesn’t keep me from thinking about her. I look up every version of Tyler Knight’s name in our system, hoping to find something, anything on this guy. I don’t want to go to this bonfire unprepared. Hell, I don’t want to go at all. But there’s no fucking way I’m going to trust Reed to make a judgment call on this pervert. I know him. He’ll be so deep in some random chick’s pussy, he won’t care who Tessa shows up with, or if she’s even there. So I’m going, but only to eye up this guy. No one else.

  I take a shower as soon as I get home, letting the scalding water beat down on my skin for as long as I can stand it. After securing a towel around my waist, I step out and rub my hand across the fogged up glass. My eyes immediately go to the tattoo on my chest, the only spur-of-the-moment tattoo I have. The only one I regret getting. My arms are covered with ink, some on my back, my hip, and even the side of my ribcage, but all of those tattoos I thought long and hard about before I got them. I’m not a quick decision kind of guy. I never have been, especially with shit that’s permanent. But for some reason, I wanted something on my body that represented her, and I thought it over for a whole five seconds before I went and got it done. It’s not huge, but it’s fucking there. The only tattoo I have on my chest. It’s dark, heavily outlined, because I wanted it as deep as I could get it.

  Break my skin, and embed her inside me.

  I’m an asshole, and I need to get this shit removed. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of everything I’m trying to forget. I picture her fingers tracing over the letter. I feel her lips pressing against it, and the slide of her tongue as she tastes the skin. I see her face; the only one I’ve seen for the past fifteen months. The one I never want to see again.

  I want to shatter my mirror, and every mirr
or, so I never have to see this reflection.

  I want to go back to that fucking fundraiser, but this time, be the one who walks away.

  I want to take a knife and carve out not only the mistake I branded myself with, but also every memory I have of her.

  I’ll probably die from that wound.

  But in death, maybe I’ll finally find release.

  Some days, I wish I had chosen a different career path.

  This is my fourth time rewinding Dr. Willis’ dictation because I can’t understand a word he’s saying. I get these from him occasionally, when he decides to record his post-op notes during his lunch hour. Between the sound of chip bags rustling, and his obnoxiously loud chewing, I’m picking up every third word.

  “The anterior chamber crunch same incision with crunch diamond blade to rustle, crunch, crunch.”

  “Ugh.” I hit the pause button for the hundredth time and slip my headphones off, tossing them on my desk.

  I need a break from this. Nothing is more annoying than the sound of that man’s chewing and if I listen to it anymore, I might just throw a few choice words into my report.

  “The patient was brought to the fucking operating room, placed into a supine fucking position on the operating room table. A general fucking anesthetic was administered.”

  Really fucking professional, Tessa.

  Pushing away from my desk with a heavy sigh, I round the couch and sit down, grabbing the TV remote. I know for a fact that the only thing on right now is daytime soaps, but that’s better than nothing.

  I’m halfway through the episode, completely captivated by these fictional people and the drama-filled lives they have, when my phone rings from where I left it on the desk. I round the couch, picking it up and seeing Tyler’s name flashing on my screen.

  Shit. He wants to actually talk to me. Not text. Verbally communicate.

  I stare at my phone, the weight of it getting heavier in my hand as I hesitantly hover over the accept phone call button.