If it were up to him, we’d be together, clawing at each other’s throats, but together.
I toss the sponge into the sink and rinse my hand off before pressing stop on my phone. The apartment goes silent, but my thoughts are louder than the music and my anxiety is thick.
I wonder what he’s doing. How’s Jace and the rest of the family? Should I call Lou, or would that be weird?
“You all right?”
I jump and look up to see Claire with two bags of groceries in her arms.
“Shit. You scared me!” I take my hand away from my heart and grab the dishtowel from the counter, wiping up leftover water.
“How did you not hear me come in?” Pretty with a messy braid places the cloth bags onto the counter and blows a strand of hair from her face.
“I was in deep thought, I guess.”
“Clearly.” She removes milk and cereal. This place is nothing like our last. It’s an all open floor plan. You walk into the living room from outside, and then the kitchen is in the rear. To the left of the rustic loft, there’s a chipped metal spiral staircase leading up to two bedrooms, each with an en suite bathroom. It’s more than our last, because we can afford it now with our new careers, and I love that it has so much character.
We each even have a claw bathtub, which is goals. But one of the best parts for Claire is the kitchen. It’s huge and has everything a chef would want. I shut the fridge after placing the milk on the shelf and walk over to the pantry.
“So, tell me what’s up?” she says after I exit the pantry. My best girl grabs the wine bottle opener from the drawer and lifts herself onto the counter.
“Missing Bryce?” she asks as she pops the cork.
I shrug and slide two wine glasses off the glass rack. We’ve moved up from drinking wine out of cups, but I feel like things were simpler then.
We didn’t have much, but we made do. Now we have more responsibilities and confusing relationships.
“Let’s not talk about it. How was your day?”
“Good. We’ve got a Christmas party coming up.”
“Really?” I ask, thinking that sounds fun.
“Yeah. You should come with me. It’s employees only, but who cares. It’s this week.”
“I think I’ll do that.”
“Good.” She smiles and reaches over to grab the mail. “Our light bill here is a lot higher than at our last place,” she says, searching through the pile of envelopes.
“Well, look at these ceilings.” I dart my eyes up.
She smirks. “Yeah. They’re amazing right?”
I kinda laugh. “That’s not what I was getting at, but yeah, they’re pretty badass.”
“Oh, here’s something for you,” she says, reaching her hand out with an envelope in it as she searches through the rest of the mail. I place my glass on the counter and take it from her.
“It’s a letter.” My heart does a frontward flip before it jumps from its diving board straight into the pit of my wine-filled stomach. Oxygen freezes in my lungs, and my veins run ice cold. Why did I even look at the stupid thing?
“Kat? Who’s it from?” Claire asks. I look up at my friend before tossing the thing onto the counter.
“Bethany.”
“Bethany?” she questions.
“Yeah, my mom.”
Her eyes go to the letter I just dismissed as I take another sip of my wine. I realize I still haven’t told Claire anything. She’s asked about how things went back in my hometown and I simply told her fine. With everything I’ve had going on with Bryce I just didn’t want to talk about it, but that’s the thing with me. I never want to talk about it.
I exhale and look down at the floor. I guess now is as good a time as any to finally reveal my past to my best friend.
“Are you not going to open it?” she asks.
“No. I don’t think I am.”
“Why? You haven’t heard from the woman in years, right?”
I chew on my inner cheek. “Actually, I saw her the weekend I went back.”
“What?” Her eyes grow wide. “You saw her and you didn’t tell me?”
I hold up my hand. “Look, a lot went on up there. I haven’t told you because we’ve both been busy. You with work and me with the shop and dealing with things with Bryce. I just… I needed a minute to catch up. I’m sorry.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’ve asked you several times how things went, and you just said fine. I don’t know why you feel like you can’t talk to me, but it hurts, Kat. We’ve been friends a long time.”
I put my glass down. “Me not telling you things about my past has nothing to do with us.”
She doesn’t respond.
I exhale, trying to rein in my nerves. My pulse quickens and I swallow, white knuckling the edge of the countertop. “My mom, Bethany, left us when I was eight. My stepdad, Saw, was the nastiest man I’ve ever known, and even till this day I can’t smell a cigarette without thinking of him.” I look down at the floor, a chill running up the back of my spine. “The beatings happened when I was around ten and the rape happened a few years after.”
“What?”
My eyes jump up to hers. She shakes her head and puts her hand over her mouth.
“He was a drug dealer. He sold heroin to the locals. It wasn’t a good place to grow up. I worked at a local diner and saved up all the money I could.”
“The money you threw on the desk when we first met?” she asks.
“Yes. I worked every shift I could and saved every penny. I got out of there.” I pick up my glass and take another sip. “When I went back, Bethany showed up, too. I told her what happened in that house, what she left me with, and she seemed indifferent about it. Like it wasn’t her fault.” I shake my head, anger still there. How will I shake this hatred toward her?
“Wow,” Claire says, her voice even.
I scoff. “There’s more.”
She lifts her brow.
“I had a regular customer who used to come through on his trucking route. His name is Mills. We grew kinda close. He was a good man, and someone normal to talk to in a town that was anything but.
“Turns out, he and Bethany had a fling back in the day. Well, she got pregnant and never told him. She broke it off because she thought he wasn’t reliable enough—I guess with his career choice and him always on the road.
“Anyway, she thought Saw would be a better fit for her and her new baby, so she married him instead.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Claire asks.
I nod my head. “Yep. Mills is my real father.”
“Oh my God. Kat, this is nuts.”
“I know,” I say. Hearing it all out loud like this…all of it. It sounds insane. And it’s all because of Bethany.
The woman made some pretty stupid choices.
“I went to the bar after I left Saw’s old house. I got pretty drunk while trying to deal with all the flooding memories that came with being in that town. Mills just magically appeared.
“I hadn’t seen the man in years. He stopped coming by the restaurant and I left not too long after. Anyway, unbeknownst to me, Bethany had followed me to the bar, but not before Bryce walked in.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” I shake my head and look to the floor. “It was all pretty mind-blowing. Bethany revealed Mills was my real dad. All of this took place outside, by the way, during a hellish snowstorm. Bryce and I finally went back to our hotel, leaving Bethany and Mills in the parking lot of the bar.
“I’m not sure what they talked about, but I’m sure it wasn’t the greatest conversation. Apparently, he was in love with her, so all of this hurt him pretty bad.
“When Bryce and I got back to our room, I finally opened up to him about my past. I told him everything I just told you. He couldn’t deal, so he went back to the bar, got drunk and into a fight with some locals.”
“Wait. He got into another fight?” Claire asks after taking a drink from her
glass.
“Oh yeah.” I nod. “That was the first fight. He then got into a second fight when we got back home. Some guy ran into him at the gym?” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. And then, of course, the shit show at the club.”
“Good God,” she says.
“I know. I’m not sure what to do about him.” I sigh. “He told me he loved me before I left for Saw’s.”
“What? Kat, are you serious?”
“Yeah. And then I told him I loved him after he, Mills, and I burned Saw’s house to the ground.”
Her jaw falls to the floor. “We need more alcohol.”
And I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, because even though all of this is real and disturbing as hell, it’s so nice to talk to my best friend. It’s so, so nice.
__________
I’m walking into Mugs & Books with my newfound goodies from the antique place and my mind on the new letter I got yesterday. I’ve decided I won’t be accepting any more of those. They only seem to bring me stress, fuck with my mind, and ruin my mood. I place my things on top of the counter and hang my hands on my hips as I look around.
Old wooden floors have been shined and the place smells like fresh paint and new beginnings. The winter wind swept in behind me and I hear the heat kick on through the open ceiling. I remove my coat, sliding a finger along the wooden countertop and grabbing a Hershey’s kiss from the candy bowl.
The place is polished and looks brand new. I decide tomorrow I’ll put a tree up and hang some lights to make it look like Christmas. I walk around the counter and start unloading vases and pillows when the bell on the door dings. Shit, I forgot to lock it back.
“Sorry, we’re not open yet,” I say as I look up. A heart that’s hanging on by a thread kicks up and shriveled veins stretch out as blood pumps me back to life.
His hair has been cut, his beard grown. A long-sleeved blue jean shirt covers a tatted-up body, and black jeans make him look mouthwatering. Bryce wears Nikes and an expression that I can’t read as he looks around the place.
I wish I had on makeup and I looked half as good as he does, but my heart hasn’t wanted to play dress-up, so a gray hoodie and jeans are what we got. I swallow the kiss when he speaks.
“I hardly recognize the place,” he says.
I link my fingers together in front of me and nod. “Yeah. Looks great, doesn’t it?” My heart hammers against the skin on my neck and I thought I had our relationship figured out, until he showed up and ruined it all with his good looks and killer style.
His attention turns back to me, azure eyes giving me a once-over before landing back on my face. “You’ve lost weight,” he points out.
“And you look fantastic,” I reply with a hint of resentment in my tone.
“Looks can be deceiving, baby,” he replies, deadpan. I look down. We haven’t seen each other in over a week, and it’s been pure hell. I’d love nothing more than to run to him and forget about this stupid idea of a break I had, but pride is a bitch and self-punishment isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with. Plus, there’s the whole shitty issue we have with jealousy and tempers.
Bryce and I are full of chemistry, but we can’t get the science right.
I guess that’s what happens when two broken people try to make it work.
Sexy in dark jeans walks in farther. He tilts his head slightly. “Need any help with this?” he asks, looking at the bags on the counter.
“No, thanks.”
He nods and walks over to the wall of shelves, skimming over the books now placed there. “The extra space really helped out. The kitchen back there?” he asks, pointing toward the other side that was once something else before we bought it and tore the wall down.
“Yeah, just through that door.” I nod at the silver swivel door.
He looks back at me and I cross my arms. “Bryce, I know you didn’t come here to check this place out.”
“I own half of it. I think I have a right to see how the remodeling has gone.” He copies me, crossing his arms over his lean chest.
“I never said you didn’t. I said I know…”
He holds up his hand, stopping me. “I know what you said, K. No shit, I didn’t come here to see the fucking remodel.” He shakes his head and exhales before rubbing his ghost of a beard and staring out the French doors. “What do you want?” he asks, still looking out as people walk by.
“What do you mean?” I ask, picking up a pen and busying my hands with it.
He turns his head in my direction, looking vulnerable, but still alpha. His expression is soft, but his body is hard. His eyes are filled with emotion, but his lips are in a tight line, his jaw clenched, like he could make love to me softly, but murder someone a moment later. “Do you want me?” he asks, his voice gruff and bottomless.
I stare at the pen in my hands, unable to face him.
“I don’t think that’s a fair question.”
“Why isn’t that a fair question?”
“Because.” I fiddle with the pen.
“Look at me, K.”
My eyes bounce up to him. “Tell me why that isn’t a fair question. Tell me why that’s not all that matters here.” Gone is vulnerability, and in its place is the confident man I know.
I have no doubt women have spread their legs for him without him even asking. The thought makes me see red, but just because I hate it doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.
Bryce is a gorgeous man, rough in the right places. While other women may have had him, I do believe I’m the only one who’s seen the soft side of him.
“Of course, I want you, Bryce.”
“Then why are we even having this conversation?”
I exhale. “We have problems.”
“So, let’s solve them,” he says. He walks to the counter. Moving my bag to the side, he places his palms flat and leans toward me. “Tell me what your issue is with us.”
I grow nervous with him being so close. His face has healed from the fights he’s gotten into. His thick fingers are silver-scarred and rough-tipped.
“We fight too much,” I say, my eyes jumping away from his hands to his eyes.
“I think it’s fair to say most couples argue,” he replies.
“I think that’s all we know. Saw and Bethany did it, and your mom and dad did.”
“We’re not them,” he says.
“I know, but I’d like to have a different relationship than them also. I don’t want to spend my life arguing with someone.”
He exhales loudly as he moves back from the counter and shoves his hands into his pockets.
This time I exhale, and my lungs still weigh a ton.
“I’m really trying here, K, but I feel like we’re not on the same page.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be together.” As soon as the words come out, I want to snatch them back and shove them down my throat. “That’s fucking bullshit,” my heart says. “We love him,” she argues.
“But a lifetime of arguing isn’t what she wants,” my mind jumps in.
Bryce leans his head back and laughs. I narrow my eyes. “So, you think because we have one or two arguments, we shouldn’t be together?” He looks at me like I’m nuts and I want to smack him.
I leave my bag and walk around the counter. “One or two? Bryce, you beat a guy up the last time we hung out.”
He shakes his head at me. “You’re scared,” hysteria says. “You’ve got it in that head of yours that we’re going to end up like them.” He walks closer to me again.
“I do not. I’m pointing out what is wrong with us.”
“There’s nothing fucking wrong with us but your mind,” he throws back. “You’re being fucking stupid, K.”
A bolt of anger shoots throughout my nervous system. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why?” he says. “It’s true. You’re ruining us because of them.”
My actions speak for me and I reach out and shove him backward.
“Say it,” he says to me.
&
nbsp; “Fuck you.” I reach out and shove him again, sending him closer to the wall. I shove him harder the third time, and the fourth he catches my hands and stops me.
Madness.
Madness and rage are what I feel because I know he’s right and I hate him for it.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he says, holding on to my hands. Contact liquefies the ice inside of me, but like I said, pride is a bitch.
“You’re wrong. We suck together. Look at us.”
He shoves my hands away. “So, what? You wanna be friends again? You wanna act like what we have together is a fucking friendship?”
My chest jumps rapidly. “I don’t know.”
He nods. “That’s one thing I think you got right, baby. I don’t think you’ve got a clue what you want.”
We look at each other as our breaths begin to even out. Small inhales and exhales break the silence.
Discontent shows on his handsome face, turning his blues a darker shade, but then Bryce does what he is so famous for. His back straightens, his chin lifts, and his blue eyes look indifferent. “How about you call me when you figure this out?” Passiveness lines his deep tone, and he leaves me in the shop with my heart on the floor and my wants scattered around it. I’m fickle and undeserving. Glutton for self- punishment and like he said…stupid.
Chapter Twenty
Bryce
Veins bulge and sweat slides. Anger and heartache collide in my broken-down chest. This girl has me so caught up I can’t even go a day without thinking about her. It’s been three days. I jab the punching bag harder. Three fucking days and she hasn’t called. How can she give up this quickly on us?
How can she do that when I told her I fucking loved her. Jab, jab. I can’t stand this shit. I step back from the swinging bag and quickly remove my gloves.
I’ve got to have a drink.
Or ten.
I walk back into the locker room when Ronnie, the owner of this gym, calls me. “Hey, Bryce.” I turn around. “That guy you got into it with. I found out his name.” I wipe the sweat from my brow and head with the towel draped over my neck.
Give Me Perfect Love (Give Me Series Book 2) Page 13
