“Would you?” I arch a brow at my best friend.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “I certainly didn’t go easy on the last guy she brought around. Don’t get me wrong, I want her to find someone. I want her to fall in love and be happy. But I don’t want her to end up with some random dude that’s not going to appreciate her, ya know? I want to make sure whoever she ends up with treats her like a fucking princess.”
“Guys are assholes.”
“That we are. I think about some of the shit you and I have pulled over the years. Fuck, if anyone treated Ainsley the way we’ve treated some of the females we’ve dated, I’d fucking lose it.”
I don’t vocalize it, but I feel the same way. Not that we were ever bad to any of them, per se. We just treated them more like objects than people. Fucked up, I know. But what do you really expect from two teenage guys who were raised to view women only one of two ways? Either they were family and you did everything to protect them. Or they were pussy and you fucked them.
I wish I could say we’ve grown out of that way of thinking, but truthfully, I don’t know if we have. I haven’t been out long enough to really know for myself, but I’m guessing Finn still operates by the same code. Or at least that’s how it appeared at Moe’s on Saturday night.
“Anyway, I don’t want to think about that shit right now. I’m going to continue to believe that my baby sister will spend her entire life never having sex.”
“Wishful thinking.” I snort. “You can’t possibly think she’s still a virgin. She’s twenty years old.”
“Fuck, dude. Just stop.” He shakes his head, his entire expression riddled in distaste. “So anyway, how’s your first day going?” He jumps at the opportunity to change the subject.
“Pretty good. It’s amazing to be working with my hands again.”
While my stepdad may have been an abusive alcoholic, he knew his way around cars, and when he wasn’t hitting me, he was teaching me how to work on them. I grew up with my hands covered in grease, and honestly, I loved it. So much so that shortly before I was locked up, I bought an old Chevelle that I was working on restoring.
Finn had it garaged for me after I got arrested but over time couldn’t afford to keep paying the dude. I guess the garage owner ended up selling it to someone. It’s not like Finn had any use for it, or anywhere to store it at his place. It didn’t run so it wasn’t really worth the trouble.
“Some of the guys are going next door to Ivy’s for beers once we close. You interested?”
When I was in prison, beer was one of the things I missed the most. Not because I’ve ever been a heavy drinker – I haven’t. I just really missed kicking back with the guys and throwing down a couple. It wasn’t getting drunk that I missed but the act of holding a cold one in my hand while I laughed and fucked off with friends.
“Yeah, I could go for a beer,” I agree, holding up my hand. “I’m gonna go see about getting something to put on this.”
“Okay.” Finn nods. “I’ve got one more service to do before I close down my station for the day. What about you?”
“I just have to finish this belt change and I think I’m good to go.”
“Awesome. Meet me in the lobby when you’re ready to head out.”
“Will do.” I wait until he’s heading back to the other side of the garage before taking off toward the office.
——
“Fuck you, dude. It did not go down like that and you know it.” Finn laughs, smacking the top of the bar table.
“Deny it all you want, but that’s exactly how it happened. I think maybe you were too drunk to remember it clearly.” I take a long pull of beer. “You were seriously sliding around like you had damn ice skates on your feet and were trying out for the fucking Olympic team. And you were getting into it, too.” I snort out a laugh. “Doing this weird shit with your hands.” I toss my arms up all dainty, giving my best impersonation of Finn from that night.
“Fuck, I wish I had witnessed this,” Bill, one of the mechanics from the shop, chimes in. “Why didn’t you record that shit? That would have been solid gold material.”
“I wish I had thought to,” I admit. “But what came next was even funnier.” I give Finn a knowing look.
“Oh shit, what did he do?”
“It’s what he didn’t do that was so comical. Like how he didn’t stay on his feet.” I lean back in my chair, laughter causing my shoulders to shake. “In the middle of a spin, he completely lost it. Both of his feet came straight out from underneath him and his head smacked the road. If I hadn’t been so worried that he’d just given himself a concussion, I probably would have been on the ground laughing at him. I can still remember the sound of his skull hitting the concrete. It wasn’t until I knew he was okay that I really had a good laugh at his expense.”
“And he’s been laughing about it ever since,” Finn grumbles next to me.
“I’m sorry, man. You thought you were a fucking ice skater.” I laugh around the words.
“I was drunk.”
“That’s not an excuse for shit and you know it,” Don interjects as he rejoins the table.
“Okay, well, how about this.” Finn’s sinister gaze slides to me. “I caught this guy playing dress up with my little sister.” He hitches his thumb toward me. “And when I say dress up, I mean lipstick, eye shadow, the whole shebang. She even convinced him to prance around her room in a pair of our mom’s old heels that she found in the attic.”
“I never took you for a cross dresser.” Don pokes fun at me.
“Shut up,” I grumble. “She was eight. How was I supposed to tell her no?”
“Same way I always did. You just say no.” Finn knocks his arm against mine. “This guy right here.” He gestures toward me. “He’d throw down with the biggest and baddest of them all, but bring in Ainsley and he was like a squishy little puppet. She could get him to do anything.”
“She was very persuasive,” I argue, the thought of how much things have changed causing my chest to ache.
She could still probably get me to do anything, only now she doesn’t want me to. She doesn’t want anything from me. And I’m not ashamed to admit that it fucking hurts... A lot.
“I swear I’ve never seen a guy so wrapped around a girl’s finger before,” Finn continues. “And man did she love him.” I don’t miss the way he says did. As in doesn’t anymore. “Don’t worry, man,” he clasps me on the shoulder, “she’ll come around,” he reassures, clearly catching something in my expression.
“Yeah,” I grunt, finishing off the remainder of my beer in one long pull.
“Well I know one thing for sure,” Bill interjects. “That sister of yours sure is a knockout.”
Both mine and Finn’s eyes swing to Bill.
“Careful,” I warn. “Pretty sure you’re old enough to be her dad.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a pretty girl when I see one.” Bill holds his hands up. “I’m just saying.”
“I’m with Bill,” Jim, our boss, chimes in. “And I’m old enough to be her grandpa. So there.” He chuckles.
“Not you, too,” Finn grumbles.
“Sorry, Finn, but she really is a good-looking girl. Don’t you think so, Ryland?”
Every set of eyes land on me and even though I think Ainsley is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, it’s not something I want to announce. Especially in front of Finn.
“She’s pretty.” I downplay my answer, nodding to the waitress when she points at my empty bottle.
“Not sure how she ended up with such an ugly brother though.” Jim pokes Finn in the ribs.
“You guys keep talking about how pretty my sister is and I might need to find new friends to drink with,” he warns, smiling as he lifts his beer bottle to his lips.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m quite fond of Jim’s daughter,” Bill tacks on.
“You stay the hell away from Maureen.” Jim wags a finger at him.
“Jus
t keeping it real, Jimmy.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down.
Jim completely ignores him, his gaze honing in on me. “Speaking of pretty women, how’s it been being out of prison?
“If I had to go five years without getting any, I think I’d screw anything with a pulse the first chance I got,” Don interjects.
We all laugh in unison.
“It’s been tough,” I admit.
Fuck, it’s been more than tough. Considering I didn’t go more than a few weeks without it since I lost my virginity at fourteen, five years felt like a lifetime. And while I thought I’d go for the first woman available after I got out, that hasn’t been the case.
I ignore why I think that is and turn my focus to the waitress as she sets a fresh beer down in front of me.
“Tough.” Finn snorts. “You had two different women practically begging for it Saturday night and you ended up going home alone.”
“I wasn’t interested.” I shrug, taking a drink of beer.
“What do you mean you weren’t interested?” Bill leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Did she have a pulse?”
“Well, she was alive so I’m guessing so.”
“Did she have a pussy?” Don joins the conversation.
“I mean, you can never be too sure these days, but yes, I believe so.”
“Then what the fuck was the hold up?” Bill asks.
“Don’t listen to these two,” Jim intervenes, hitching his thumb in Don and Bill’s direction. “They don’t know what it’s like to spend more than one night behind bars. There’s an adjustment period. It takes a while to get your bearings and start to feel like yourself again.”
“So then it’s not just me?” I question.
“No.” He shakes his head, threading his hands together in front of him. “I was so messed up after my stint in prison. It was nearly three months before I started to feel even a little bit like my old self.”
I don’t say it, but it feels good to hear. It’s only been four days, and even though I feel like I should be ready to jump back into life, I don’t. I’m out of prison and yet I feel like I’m still locked in the same tiny ass cell that I spent the last sixty-two months in.
“I told him it would take a while,” Finn adds.
“I’ll get there.” I take another pull of beer. “For what it’s worth, Jim, I really appreciate you giving me a shot. I don’t think I actually said thank you; but thank you. I didn’t expect to have a job so soon after getting out but it sure as shit made my probation officer happy.”
“I know firsthand how hard it can be. I’m glad I could help out.”
A brief silence passes between the five of us before Finn is climbing to his feet.
“Anyone up for a game of pool?” he asks, his gaze darting around the table.
“I’m game.”
“Me, too.” Bill adds.
“Oh hell, twist my arm,” Jim grumbles, sliding out of his seat.
“You ladies have fun. I have to get home to the missus.” Don finishes off his beer as he stands.
“Pussy whipped.” Bill coughs.
“At least I have a pussy to whip me,” Don fires back.
“Pretty sure he’s got you there.” Jim laughs.
After saying our goodbyes to Don, the rest of us spend the next hour shooting pool and bullshitting about nothing of any real importance. It feels good to be out, having drinks with the guys, but it does little to distract me from the nagging feeling that’s been present in my stomach since earlier today when I watched Ainsley leave with that guy.
I know it shouldn’t bother me. I know she’s a grown woman and that she can take care of herself. But a part of me still feels responsible for her. And no matter how good of a guy he might be, I don’t think anyone will be good enough for Ainsley. At least not in my eyes.
Finn drives us home shortly before ten. Knowing that he was driving, I allowed myself to drink a little bit more than I probably would have. I guess you could say I was attempting to drink my woes away. Not that it worked. I feel more conflicted now than when I sat down for that first beer.
Ainsley’s car is in the driveway when we pull in which makes me feel mildly better. Of course I can’t vocalize any of this to Finn because he’d probably think I’d lost my mind. Hell, maybe I have.
What else could explain my sudden obsession with his little sister? A girl I watched grow up. A girl I practically helped raise.
Some of the thoughts that have crossed my mind over the last couple of days, me from five years ago would beat my own ass right about now.
It’s wrong on so many different levels and yet I can’t help it. I can’t help my attraction to her. I can’t help the way my groin tightens every time she looks at me. And I sure as fuck can’t help that she’s the one thing that has plagued my dreams for the past three nights straight.
I’ve tried to reason with myself. Convince myself that I’m confusing my need to make things right with her as something more. But I know that’s not it.
If I’m being completely honest with myself, and thanks to the eight beers I drank, I think I am. There’s been something there with Ainsley since she was a teenager but because I knew I could never act on it, it kept me in check. It kept me in control.
But Ainsley isn’t a child anymore. She’s a woman. A fucking beautiful woman. And as such, my control is starting to slip. But I can’t let it. Because no matter how strong the pull I feel toward her is, no matter how badly my body craves her, I know I could never be with her.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to protect her from the wrong kind of guy. It’s a bitter pill to swallow when you realize that the wrong kind of guy is you.
Chapter 9
Ainsley
“Hey.”
My eyes flutter open at the soft voice, landing on Finn who’s hovering over the back of the couch looking down at me.
“Hey,” I grumble out, my voice full of sleep. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”
“Around ten. Why don’t you go get in your bed?” He straightens his posture.
“Yeah, I think I will.” I push back the throw blanket covering the lower half of my body before pushing myself up into a sitting position.
I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands, letting out a loud yawn.
I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. I got home right after eight, and not having the energy to do any of the schoolwork I needed to, I plopped down on the couch, clicked on the television, and that’s where I’ve been ever since.
It takes me a moment to find the strength to stand, but as soon as I do, my entire body protests the movement.
“Why were you out so late?” I ask, fumbling around the couch in my attempt to make it to the hallway.
I think maybe I’m still half asleep.
“We went out for drinks.”
The comment has my eyes swinging back toward my brother, and only then do I realize that Ryland is standing next to him.
My heart instantly kicks up speed.
My body and head seem to be at odds where he’s concerned and truthfully, the array of emotions is starting to become quite dizzying.
“Fun,” I mutter, turning back toward the hallway.
“Well man, I think I’m gonna head that way as well,” Ryland says behind me, a slight slur to his words. “I’m fucking beat.”
“I’m gonna grab me a quick bite to eat and I won’t be too far behind you,” my brother responds as I reach the mouth of the hallway.
Knowing he isn’t talking to me, I keep moving, reaching my bedroom door within seconds. Instead of pushing it open, I lay my forehead against the worn wood, pretty certain that I could fall asleep standing just like this. I’m that tired.
“What are you doing?” I hear Ryland approach, a hint of laughter to his words.
“I’m going to bed,” I sleepily say.
“Pretty sure you have to open the door first.” I feel him next to me, but I keep my head down and my eyes
closed.
“I will... eventually.” I let out another yawn.
“Here, let me help you.” Before I have time to fully process what he’s said, the door opens and I stumble forward. I no doubt would have landed flat on my face if not for the pair of arms that catch me around the waist just in the nick of time.
“Whoa.” Ryland steadies me, pulling me upright.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I wiggle out of his grasp and turn on him, now wide awake.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d just fall forward.” He laughs.
“I was resting my eyes for a moment. I didn’t realize you were going to open the door. I could have busted my head open.” I flail my arms dramatically.
“And yet, you didn’t,” he points out.
“No thanks to you.”
“No thanks to me? I’m the one that caught you.”
“Yeah, after you opened the door which caused me to fall in the first place.”
“Again, it’s not like I knew you would fall.”
“Ugh.” The word gurgles in my throat. “Can you just go now so I can get in bed?”
“You sure you don’t want me to tuck you in?” There’s a boyish playfulness to his expression, and even though I’m mad, I smile.
“Are you drunk?” I place my hands on my hips and study him for a long moment.
“Maybe just a little.” He holds his hand up and inches his thumb and index finger together until a bit of space separates them.
“Lord.” I roll my eyes. “You realize it’s Monday, right?”
“You realize I just got out of prison and I don’t really care what day it is, right?” he fires back.
“Go to bed, Ryland.” I point toward the hallway.
“You first.” He grins and I’m not sure if I want to slap that grin off his face or take a picture of it so I can pull it out and look at it whenever I want.
“Out.” I step toward him to push him out of my room, but when my hands connect with his solid chest, he doesn’t budge. “Ryland, stop messing around. Get out.” I try again, pushing into him with more weight. Still nothing.
“You’re weaker than I remember,” he tells me, pulling his bottom lip through his teeth in a way that makes my entire body take notice.
A Thousand Cuts (CELL BLOCK C) Page 6
