by J. Daniels
“Where’s that police training, huh?” he teases, prying my hand off his shoulder and trying to get a good grab on my arm. “Come on, then.”
It’s chaos, each of us fighting for power, rolling around on the floor as the bar noise around us seems to fade out completely.
“Luke, if you don’t control this, I’m gonna have to call somebody.”
I register Ray’s warning as I try to put my dad in a couple of holds, but he breaks free every time. He gains control, then me, and then him again. The struggle goes on for what feels like hours and I wait for my dad to grow tired, to give in, to end this bullshit, but he comes at me again and again, gaining the upper hand once more and pinning me on my back.
He’s sweating, panting heavily, but his strength hasn’t weakened. He wants that fucking drink, and he thinks he’s going to get it. His eyes are glazed over, the same color as mine but he looks half-possessed. Strung-out and frenzied. My head is throbbing from getting knocked to the ground, but I can’t pay attention to that right now. Not when he raises his hand next to his head and slowly makes a fist.
He’s going to punch me. The asshole’s really going to do it.
I don’t react. I give him the chance to stop himself, to bring his hand down to his side, to realize exactly what he’s about to do, and he takes those few seconds and uses them to whiten his knuckles with a tighter fist before striking me against the jaw.
Blood fills my mouth, the metallic tang seeping to the back of my throat as he rears his arm back again. I know he’s not going to stop. I can see the manic, uncontrolled fire burning behind his eyes. He’s no longer looking at me like I’m familiar to him. I’m just the guy he needs to get through, and that addiction-fueled ignorance causes me to snap.
I move fast, slamming my fist into the side of his face and sending him falling to the floor, removing his weight off me. I scramble to my knees and strike him again, this time connecting with his nose. Blood splatters on the wood, streaks across my knuckles, and he places a hand to his face as he winces in pain.
“Come on! That’s all you got? I thought you wanted that drink,” I taunt, bringing my arm back to strike him again. A hand grabs my wrist, halts me mid-swing, and I look over my shoulder and connect with Ben seconds before he grabs under my arm and hauls me to my feet.
“What the fuck? What’s going on?” he asks, just as Ray comes walking up with a rag.
I watch as my dad takes the rag and puts it to his nose before standing up. He looks at me briefly, dropping his gaze with a disgusted shake of his head before walking through the crowd that has congregated around us.
“Hey.” Ben shoves against my chest, prompting me to look over at him. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Ray called me and said you offered to buy your dad a drink. Is that true?”
I shake my punching hand out, flexing my fingers as I watch Ray walk my dad outside. “I said I’d buy him a drink if he got past me. He didn’t.”
He frowns. “So you’re just going to start challenging your dad to fights now? You think maybe that’ll keep him from drinking? ’Cause that sounds pretty fucking stupid to me.”
I walk to the bar, ignoring Ben, and grab a couple of napkins off the counter. I hold them to my lip as he walks up to me.
“Why don’t you try talking to him? Like, actually having a conversation with him when he’s sober?”
I slowly turn my head, glare at him, and bring the napkin away from my mouth. “Oh, you mean like right now? ’Cause he is fucking sober, and he really seems to be in the mood to have a little chat with his son.” I pinch my eyes shut before focusing on the liquor bottles lined up behind the bar. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. He’s probably on his way now to another bar right now where they’ll actually serve him.”
“Actually, he’s headed to the hospital.”
Ray walks behind the bar, stopping on the other side in front of us. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes his forehead with it.
“Why is he going to the hospital?” I ask, bunching up the napkins before tossing them into the trashcan behind the bar. “If he told you that, he’s lying. He’s getting drunk tonight.”
Ray folds the handkerchief and runs it around the back of his neck. “Maybe, but I’m pretty sure you broke his nose. I suggested he go get it checked out, and he wasn’t all that disagreeable. He looked like shit.” His eyes fall to my mouth. “You all right?”
I feel a tinge of guilt, but quickly swallow it down when I remember the look in Dad’s eyes before he hit me. I shrug off Ray’s question.
Ray shifts his gaze between me and a spot on the bar. “Luke, you know I’m always trying to help you out, keep your dad out of trouble and everything, but I can’t have him coming in here anymore. I told him just now if I see him walking in here again, I’m calling the cops, and I don’t mean you.”
I nod. I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before Ray got sick of this bullshit.
“Do what you gotta do, Ray. Let him get arrested. I don’t care anymore.” I tap the bar and turn away, walking through the crowd and out the door.
“Are you going to the hospital to check on your dad?” Ben asks, joining my side in the parking lot.
I pull my keys out of my pocket. “No. I’m going to go see Tessa.”
He chuckles softly behind me as I reach my truck. “Are you sure you wanna start another fight? You might not win that one.”
I lean back against the driver’s side door, crossing my arms over my chest. “There won’t be any fighting. Me and her are good.”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? We’re talking about my sister, right? Tessa Kelly?” He holds his hand out, palm down, at chest height. “About this tall, red hair, wanted nothing to do with your ass before I left the state?”
I flip him off and he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Jesus. I was gone for two days. What the hell happened?”
“A lot, actually. Some really fucked up shit went down with that guy she met up with at the bonfire.” He studies me, waiting for me to expand on that statement. I reach up and scratch the back of my head before continuing. “So, you know I went to that stupid thing, ’cause I fucking had to. I tried to keep your sister from leaving with him, but I’m sure you can imagine how that played out.” I grip the back of my neck, squeezing to relieve some of the tension. “I was so fucking pissed. I should’ve just thrown her ass in my truck, but I just said fuck it, and I went to leave.”
A short laugh bubbles in my throat, and I see his forehead crease with confusion. I shake my head. “I couldn’t leave, man. I sat there like an asshole, because after a year, I’m still completely strung-out on her. And you know what? It’s a good fucking thing I am, because if I would’ve left, I never would’ve gotten that asshole’s tag number to run in our system.”
“He had priors? We looked him up. There was nothing on him.”
“That’s ’cause we were looking up the wrong guy. Either he gave her a fake last name, or she lied to you about it, ’cause he had domestic charges against him.” I drop my head, my eyes losing focus as I hear a faint “motherfucker” coming from Ben. “I went straight to her apartment, out of my mind, fucking praying she was there with him. He was choking her when I got there, and I almost killed him.” I look up. Ben’s eyes are filled with rage. “I wanted to kill him. If Tessa wasn’t watching me, I would’ve done worse than break that fucker’s wrist.”
Ben inhales deeply through his nose, his chest rising then falling, before he speaks. “She’s all right? She’s not hurt?”
“Her neck is sore. She has some bruises on it, but she’s fine.”
“And him? You actually broke his wrist?”
“Yeah.”
He drops his head into a sharp nod. “Good. Those assault charges will get plead down in court.”
“Yeah, but he had drugs on him too, so he could get a year for possession, maybe eighteen months with the first-degree assault added to
it. He’s at least looking at some jail time.”
Ben runs a hand down his face before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and looking at the screen. “He’s lucky. If he weren’t locked up, I’d hunt his ass down and rip him apart. I wouldn’t give a shit about my job.” He looks up at me, clutching his phone in one hand and placing his other on my shoulder. “Thanks a lot, man. You didn’t have to go to that bonfire.”
“Yeah, I did,” I counter as he drops his hand. I see the smirk twisting across his lips and shove him out of the way so I can open my door. “Fuck off. I’m not as pussy-whipped as you are over Mia. I just did what I had to do.”
He steps aside, laughing. “Call it whatever you want. The only difference between me and you is that I wasn’t scared to admit how I felt. Not to myself, or anybody else. I didn’t give a shit who knew how crazy I was about Mia.”
“Tessa knows how I feel.”
“Does she?” He looks at me straight on, dropping all humor as I settle into the driver’s seat. “I’m sure she knows you care about her, but she doesn’t how you feel. She won’t, not until you tell her, and don’t make her wait for that. I made that mistake with Mia and I almost lost my chance.”
I grab the door handle to pull it closed, but he stops it with a hand gripping the edge.
“What are you so scared of, Luke? That all the shit you’ve been through is too much for her to deal with? Do you think she’d run from that?”
I glare at him, feeling my nostrils flare. “She doesn’t need to know about all this. All this shit—it’s mine. It’s my fucking burden, and I won’t make it hers. I let her in as much as I can, and it has to be enough because that’s all I can give her.”
I see him struggle with his next words, or maybe he’s struggling with mine. Either way, it takes him several seconds before he nods his understanding. “Well, for your sake, I hope it’s enough for her, because you’re a miserable piece of shit without her.”
I let out a breathy laugh, and he does the same. “Yeah, well… fuck you.”
He laughs harder and allows me to close the door.
I can’t argue with Ben. He’s right; I have been a miserable piece of shit. I read once that addiction is hereditary, a crutch you inherit that’s ingrained in your genetic makeup. It would make sense; explain the starving compulsion I’ve had over the past year. My dad might be dependent on alcohol, but I’m at the mercy of Tessa Kelly, and right now, I’m going to feed my obsession.
***
Tessa’s car isn’t at my house when I get there, which doesn’t completely surprise me. After I let Max outside, I drive over to her apartment and knock on the door. I hear a muffled “hold on,” followed by the clicking sound of several locks being turned.
The door opens and I look down at Tessa, her green eyes doubling in size the moment she trains them on me. She’s still wearing my T-shirt, but she has on these tight black pants that I know hug her ass in a way that has me reaching down to adjust my slowly hardening cock. One of her hands is clutching a small container of ice cream, and the spoon she has shoved in her mouth nearly falls out as she reacts to my presence, clearly not expecting me.
“Mmm mmm,” she says around the spoon with a shake of her head before slamming the door closed. A lock clicks.
“What the hell?” I bang on the door, turning the knob and scowling when it won’t budge. “Tessa, what the fuck? Let me in.”
“No, no, no, no, NO. You are not coming in here.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because if I let you in, I’ll have sex with you.”
My brow pinches together. “Why is that a problem?”
I hear her breathy pause. “It just… it just fucking is. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. ‘It just fucking is’ isn’t a reason, and if you’re keeping me out ’cause you’re worried I’ll have sex with you as soon as I get in there, don’t be.”
“Oh really?” she asks through a laugh. “You mean to tell me if I open this door right now, you wouldn’t try sticking it in, immediately? I call bullshit.”
I smile, dropping my head against the door. “Immediately? No, because I can still fucking taste you, Tessa, and I want more of that before I do anything else. When you open this door—not if—the first thing that’s going to be sliding into you will be my tongue. Then my fingers. Then my cock. In that order.”
I hear a soft, purring sound, followed by a grunt. “Goddamn it. Why do you have to talk to me like that?”
I palm my now fully hard cock. “‘Cause you like it. Now let me in.”
“No.”
I jar the knob again. “You know I can break down doors. You’ve seen me do it.”
“Then you’ll be buying me another one.”
I shut my eyes. “Look, I’ve had a shitty night. A really fucking shitty night, and I just want to be with you. Let me in so I can do that.”
“Did this shitty night have anything to do with Ray? Or Sara?” I don’t respond and I hear more locks clicking. “You wanna come in?” she asks, her voice dropping the certainty it just had seconds ago.
I nod as if she can see me, feeling my desperation for her coursing through my blood.
“There are five locks on this door, four too many in my opinion, and if you want in, you need to answer all five of my questions.”
I stare blankly at the door. “Don’t do this right now.”
“Question number one,” she starts as I run both hands down my face. “Who is Ray?”
Easy. I can answer that.
“He’s a bartender I’ve known for a couple years. He owns Lucky’s Tavern.”
A lock clicks. “See, that’s wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Is that your next question?”
I hear her irritated sigh. “No, it’s not, smartass. Who is Sara?”
I crack my knuckles as I begin to pace back and forth in front of the door. “Tessa, I fucking answered one of your questions. That should be enough.”
“Don’t be pissy with me because you bought a door with five locks. You know the rules of this game.”
A game; that’s exactly what this is. A fucking game.
I stop in front of the door. “I want to be with you. You fucking settle me, okay, and I need that right now. Stop this shit and just let me in.”
Silence lingers between us as I step closer, flattening my hand against the door.
“Tessa.” I nearly plead, not giving a shit if she hears how weak I am when it comes to her. She’s controlling this, and the helpless feeling that started off as a minor discomfort weighing on my chest has intensified, making it difficult for my lungs to fully expand.
I can hear her breathing through the door as she makes me wait, and it’s funny how that doesn’t crank up my anxiety. Waiting for Tessa to make her decision doesn’t make me uneasy. It’s the fear of not seeing her right now that does.
“No, Luke,” she finally says, her voice unwavering and sure. “I can’t have you keep me out like that. It sucks for me, especially when I get moments with you where I think you’re letting me in, but you’re not. It’s not fucking fair. If you don’t want to tell me who Sara is, then leave, because you’re not coming in here.”
My chest gets tighter, like she’s just added another weight by keeping me out. “Fine,” I reply through gritted teeth, turning and heading for my truck.
I’m not going to fucking beg to see her, and I don’t need this shit right now. Not after the night I just had. She’s probably just pissed I left her the way I did earlier and after a day or two, she’ll get over it. Tessa can’t deny she wants to be with me. What we had last summer was damn near perfect, and we will have that again.
Just as I’m about to pull away from her apartment, my phone rings. Fuck yes. I pull it out of the pocket of my shorts just as I cut the engine, but it’s not Tessa calling me. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Yeah?” I answer, pissed off that I’m starting up my truck again.
�
��Hi, I’m trying to reach Luke Evans. This is Dr. Cohen calling from St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
My tires screech as I quickly peel away from the apartment building and out onto the main road. “What is it? Is he being an asshole or something?”
“Sir, we need you to come down. If not tonight, then first thing in the morning. Your father is being admitted.”
My hand wraps tighter around the wheel as I glance at the time on the dash. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
I toss my phone onto the empty seat next to me as I drive in the direction of my house. He can wait; whatever it is they need me for, I’m done for tonight.
I’m fucking done.
A knock on the door startles me awake, sending the empty Ben & Jerry’s and my spoon that was shamelessly still in my grasp crashing to the floor. I sit up as my eyes adjust to the sunlight pouring in through the window, giving them a moment to focus before I reach for the container and tilt it toward me, not surprised in the least that there isn’t any trace of Brownie Batter remaining. When heartache calls for ice cream, I go at it hard, and last night was no exception. At this point, I’m practically a walking advertisement for the kings of dessert. The number of times I’ve made late-night trips to the freezer section of the local market over the past year has to be in the hundreds by now. But it’s how I cope with this shit. I’m not new to this game, nor am I unfamiliar with the dull ache that settles over me at the very thought of Luke, making even breathing seem somewhat painful.
Another knock has me standing from the couch, placing the evidence of my misery on the coffee table before I step up to the door.
“Who is it?” I ask, holding on to the top lock, not turning it even the slightest until I know for sure it isn’t whom I really can’t handle right now. It shouldn’t be him. It’s Monday morning, and he should be at work, but after not letting him in last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried for a quickie before he started patrolling, and that shit isn’t happening.
