Slow Burn (The Burn Series Book 4)

by Dee Ellis

  Today, her short dark hair was almost free of the teal and purple. Hunter had kind of forbidden her to dye it since they found out about the baby. The lingering color was Kool-Aid, her go-to in a crisis. Kept her vibrant look and smelled yummy too. The sunlight shone in behind her as she bounced around barefoot, a paintbrush in her hand as she moved around an easel.

  “We can always do dinner, Midge.” I sat on a stool watching her, my knee bouncing anxiously as Britney Spears blasted through the studio.

  “With the girls?” Lola arched her brow, her chin tucked over her shoulder to gaze back at me.

  “Yes, with the girls. Your girls are my girls now. In fact, they are my only girls, besides you.” I reach my arm out, smoothing my hand over her bump before she prances away.

  Truth is, Lola was almost always my only girl. We came from wealth and privilege and neither could have been more miserable about it. We spent our summers avoiding the ridiculous parties and social functions. Instead, we hit the beach and talked about our futures away from that bullshit. We had that plan, of course.

  The plan changed but now, with us reunited, it seems like it can get back on track. Parts of it, at least. We can’t dorm together and form an anti-sorority sorority, and we can’t backpack like broke college students in Europe. There won’t be talks about our classes or the hot professors.

  This is better though, what we get to have now.

  Because this is real, and honest, and full of joy and all the light that was dimmed for so long. That plan we had was glittery and golden but now, now it’s real and we can make it whatever we want. I haven’t made the time to tell Lola about the Brynn she once knew, and how she, like the Violet I once knew, is gone now. But, in time.

  For now, we visit museums and talk about her bundle of joy while I accept the excuses to hang out in Chicago longer. Lola doesn’t know I don’t have a job or a sweetheart waiting at home. Doesn’t know that the truth of my situation back East is a lot more complex than I’m ready to get into just yet.

  Because, the last thing I want to do is tarnish the image the only person I have left has of me. Lola believes her bestie Brynn is a recent college graduate, who will break into the Architectural world because of her talent, and not her last name. That’s the girl I planned to be.

  Instead, I made one wrong choice, with the wrong man, on one life-changing night. I can’t say I’ve paid for that choice or that night as much as I feel I owed. Probably why, while I may have gone through the motions the last few years, seemingly getting my plan back on course, I can hardly say I’ve enjoyed the ride.

  “They like you. I mean, of course they do, who wouldn’t? But, I mean they really like you and that’s awesome because now I have a gaggle of bitches. Life is good.” Lola spun towards the bright red and green canvas she was working on.

  She wasn’t wrong. But, she wasn’t exactly right, either. Life was good. It just wasn't the kind of good I felt ready to settle with. I delayed my trip back home half a dozen times. Because I wasn't ready to go back and accept that the life waiting there for me was all I could have. Not when I'd had the briefest glimpse of something better here.

  I loved Boston, the age, the culture, the thick accents and rowdy crowds that flooded Southie. It felt like a lifetime ago that Boston felt like my endgame, though. Growing up, it had been nothing else. Graduate with a degree, join Bergman & Billings and build Boston around me as I live my dream. Maybe my dream, and how I wanted to build it—or really where I wanted to build it—had just changed.

  “Life is good.” I say it softly and, it’s a tiny part of me but it’s there, hurts when she doesn’t question the lie in my voice. Again, her hand passes over her belly and I shove down a flash of pain.

  I reach out too, more to ease that pain and ground myself than anything else. Lola smiles, beams really, as both our hands smooth over her softly rounded belly. It seems to soothe us both. Six months came and went just a few days ago.

  More than halfway there, now. I panic at the idea of still being here when her daughter comes. I don’t know if I can do it, no matter how much I love Lola. No matter how much I already love that little baby. It feels too much like déjà vu, the idea of going through that again, even if second hand this time.

  Lola catches my eye. Those vibrant violet eyes of hers go so soft, I feel the entire room soften around us. Her left hand, with the cute tattoo on her ring finger, presses over mine. Lola leans forward as best her swollen belly allows. Touching her forehead to mine, Lola breaks me down a little as she whispers her next words.

  “Let it go, Brynn. Let the choice you made then go, now. It was the right one for you. The right one for her. Let go of the lies I bought just because you needed to sell them. You don’t need them to stay, lady friend. Just stay. Doesn’t matter why you don’t want to go back. Doesn’t change the truth; you can just stay.” I notice the polka dots on her dress are not polka dots at all the moment I realize what they are.

  Head bent, both hands at her stomach, I am crying. I truly break then. I don’t know how it happens but we end up on the floor, backs against the brick walls, Lola cradling me like her child. I don’t even remember the last time someone hugged me. Years, maybe? I rope my arms around her as I, for a moment, do as she suggested. I let it go.

  No questions are asked. No deep soul-baring talk is had. Instead, I cry for a while because it feels good to let it out. We sit like that until the sun begins to dip behind the clouds and pink and orange lights up the loft of the old fire station. I know I need to give her my reasons, and I will. Just not today.

  Because before long, her belly is moving noticeably. Someone is hungry and it’s not just Lola. I climb to a crouch and we share a look. I know the questions will come and I will have to provide answers. Right now, I just need to provide sustenance, and that is easy enough to do. I get Lola to her feet and we’re on the L before either of us speak again.

  “Bang Chop. I am craving dumplings like nobody’s business, sister. Cooper chicks can deal, the baby gets what the baby wants.” Lola insists, even though we both know Gigi and Charli will happily join us anywhere she requests.

  There’s little those girls won’t do for Lola, and she doesn’t need the excuse of being pregnant. It’s a fact that endeared me to the Cooper girls immediately. My liking them had to do with them, though, really. Charli was as sweet as she was smart and Gigi’s witty sarcasm was as refreshing as her fierce loyalty to her people.

  At first, I had been admittedly jealous that my best friend was one of her people. Until without even trying, I had become one of her people, too. That’s just how the Coopers were, it seemed. Those girls and their husbands, Cage and Finn, welcomed you in and loved you hard and without end. I was still learning how to accept that.

  The love I knew, it came in responsive acts. Like payments. I was well behaved at an important social gathering? My parents gifted me a pony. I aced a test? Mother bought me a new wardrobe. I made the dean’s list at Preston Prep? Father bought me a car.

  “I wish, just once, Mother would just have lunch with me. Ask me what boys I like. What I like to do with my friends. Maybe what I want to do for college.” Lola and I used to commiserate about our parents; mine loved me but had no idea how to show it. Hers didn't know what love was, but sure knew how to make it look like they did.

  These people, the Coopers and the Byrnes, they love so big and so bright, you can't mistake it. You can't miss it. Charli and Gigi are loud and bold with it, constantly stating how special you are to them. That frequency, that loud boldness could seem disingenuous. It doesn't, simply because it’s absolutely genuine.

  When I look up from my nearly empty plate, three pairs of eyes watch me. I know they know something; they sense the flushed skin, the darting glance, the heated words mean something. Something more than I am telling. Because just like I know the little, unimportant stuff about them now, they know the same about me.

  Lola knows I get flushed when I'm nervous. Charli and Gigi ha
ve seen my freckles pop out the few times they all got me tipsy. Or that I love spicy food, so I order it for Gigi just so I can finish it.

  They all know that I love them, even though I can't say it. But they don't know what I think about a sexy firefighter who held me under the stars then came home to his wife. But, they don't ask because I'm not ready to answer.

  Mostly because I don't have the answers; not really. I'm making this up as I go. For now, I will accept any excuse Lola offers that allows me to stay here in Chicago. I can pretend for a little while longer that Boston doesn't matter. I can let myself be with Lola and the Cooper girls and their hot firefighter husbands.

  I can even fool myself, for at least a little while longer, that one of those firefighters doesn't make me five-alarm hot. I tell myself that I can do it, all of it, no matter how impossible I know it really is.

  I am so good at lying to myself, I almost have myself believing that when the time comes to deal with Boston, I can do it alone.

  3

  LEVI

  “Christ, how can something so cute do what you just did?” I get just the smallest of coos in answer, and my chest tightens.

  As she looks up at me, I forget the bomb in her diaper and the sticky mess on her face. Damn, she's fucking cute. Her pretty eyes are bright and innocent; paired that with her chubby cheeks and red curls, and she’s just the cutest nugget I ever laid eyes on. And, she’s mine.

  Maybe I don’t have the proof, and lord knows taking Isabel’s word for is asking for it, but as far as that little baby is concerned, I’m her daddy. After Iz dropped her off and left smoke trails in her wake, I didn’t even question it. Maybe I should. Maybe I should ask one of the Coopers, or anyone better qualified than me, to take the little Princess.

  But, the moment I held her, I knew I wanted to do right by her. Hunter might be right about me getting DNA results out, but right now, I don’t care about test results. I don’t need them.

  “What we do need, Nugget, is a name for you, huh?” I talk to her as I watch the phone I’ve propped on the pillow above her. Diaper changing 101 on YouTube.

  Iz left me two tiny bottles, four diapers, a half can of formula, two outfits and a folder of papers. Nothing else. No toys or pacifiers, no socks or shoes, and no idea what her name is or how old she might be.

  The papers gave me some of those answers. My little nugget is three months old, born on June 17th. Those papers told me when and where she was born. They also tell me that, on paper, I am her father. Because her last name is Holt. But, her first name? Yeah, Iz didn’t bother with that. I was furious when I went through those papers and found the truth.

  The little nugget came a month early, which explains Iz’ visit when I’d come home with Brynn. Already looking for someone to take over something she couldn’t handle. Since Iz couldn’t take her from the hospital till she was at least a month old, Iz tried to be a mother for barely two months. And tried is a term I use loosely since the bitch didn’t bother to name her.

  “How about.... Belle? Nah too close to her name. Maybe...Ariel...nope scratch that. All Ariel’s are slut buckets, nugget. Why am I going Disney Princess anyway?” I finish with the diaper and tuck her fidgety little legs into a fresh outfit.

  Last night I got just a few essentials. Things even an idiot like me knew I would need for a baby. Now, I’m headed to get the shit I didn’t know I needed. I bundle the nugget up in the tiny coat I picked up last night—it’s not cold yet but I rather be over cautious—still calling out names as I head out to my Uber.

  The driver helps me get her situated in the little seat, as I mentally add one of those to my checklist. And a car. I don’t drive because I’ve never needed to. I see mothers on the L all the time with babies in strollers or carrying-deals. Taking that sweet little Princess on the same train I’ve watched people puke, fight and fuck on is out of the question.

  “First weekend with her?” My helpful uber driver asks as he smiles back at us in his rear view.

  “Something like that.” I nod back with a smile as I reach out to the little nugget. Like she did the first time Iz handed her to me, she smiles, clutches my thumb with her tiny fist and steals my heart.

  We talk in those noises she makes until the car ride puts her to sleep. Definitely need a car. Last night was tough; the little thing was up and down, I must have fed her six times. Piglet. I smile though, because I don’t feel tired. I feel alert and alive and in a way, excited. I let her keep a hold of my hand as I text the date I had lined up for tonight.

  Me: Can’t make it tonight. Sorry.

  Date: Levi, baby I wanted to see you. Is it work?

  Me: No. It’s another girl. I smirk at the sleeping Princess beside me, because it’s the truth.

  Date: Is it Bambi? You know, she and I, we can have fun together. My eyes roll at her slutty attempt to keep me interested.

  Truth is, that shit never did interest me. I mean, it was fun a few times. Certainly, helped numb the pain my fuck ups with Iz left me with. But I was never that guy. Never wanted to be like Hunter, burning myself out on pussy.

  He might be my best friend—and he is even if he doesn’t say so—but he’s lucky he found someone like Lola who ignored the numbers he’d stacked up. A lot of women can’t get past that. Even Charli struggled with Cage’s past, I knew. Hunter and Finn made Cage look like a Night Guard who had taken a vow of celibacy.

  I didn’t have numbers stacked up. I didn’t remember their names like Hunter did. Didn’t keep track like Cage or let them be rated like Finn. I used them to chase away the loneliness and numb the pain. It’s how Iz and I got started and how we ended.

  “Careful with that one.” Hunter warned me over a year ago as I headed out of O’Malley’s pub with Isabel.

  “Doubt she wants me to be too careful.” Was my pointed reply as we both looked her over.

  Isabel was new to Chicago, yet had found a place at the pubs, with all the men in uniform. I’m sorry, men and women. She had no preference. By the time I met her, the badge bunnie routine was the norm with the guys from Station 71. Enough that both Hunter and Finn had been with her before me. Their warning should have been like a five-alarm bell, yet I ignored it.

  Like an idiot I ignored the truth. My friends had all been with her. Done dirty shit with her, some of them at the same time. I’d actually watched her come out of the bathroom with Diggs, a cop buddy of ours, and another woman once. I knew what they had been doing. Yet, when she approached me a few months after I met her, I ate her bullshit up with a big ass spoon.

  I’d just passed my final completions and was celebrating. Isabel wanted to help me celebrate. Offered to let me and Hunter tag team her. I was embarrassed by the offer, honestly. I mean, I’m a guy with a working dick and she’s hot as shit.

  Shimmery copper hair, lovely face with blue eyes and fair skin. Nice ass and great tits. But, I just was never like the rest of my brothers. I didn’t want to lose myself in someone who so many others had gotten lost in before. It felt dirty. Because it is dirty.

  “Not tonight, Iz.” Hunter was no saint but he knew what I was about, and he respected that.

  “Just rookie, then?” Isabel had turned her sultry look my way and for one night, for one moment of one night at least, I didn’t feel alone.

  I knew how it worked. There were hotels near all the pubs we frequented. One of Hunter’s many rules. Do the deed where the evidence just blends with the rest. I expected to head to one of them, fuck Isabel until my fear and pain went away long enough for us both to come, before we’d part ways. That is not how Isabel did things that night, though.

  “Let’s eat, rook. And I mean food.” We had just hit the clogged streets when she changed things up on me.

  “I thought you wanted...” At twenty-two I was no virgin but my experience paled in comparison to hers, and we both knew it.

  “Oh, we will, rook. Feed me first.” Isabel had a way of getting you to do what she wanted.

  I don’t know wh
y she chose me that night. Why she laughed and opened up to me and no one else. I have no idea why we didn’t fuck for almost a week. Why when we finally did, at her place, she was shy and sweet. I have no idea why, if just for a moment, it was so different than before. It was just a moment, though.

  For that moment, I thought I was in love. Iz showed me Chicago and herself and I loved every inch. Iz was wild and reckless and we both came from nothing. While I wanted to have something, Iz never wanted for more.

  Two months in, with us fucking our way around Chicago with no promise of more, I knew it was never going to be more. I didn’t know what more I wanted, but I knew Iz would never give it to me.

  Like anyone in my position would, I walked away.

  For weeks, I watched Iz replace me with men I’d called friends. Men who didn’t know they were crossing lines because Iz never drew any. Tired of watching from the sidelines, I joined the game. Chose a waiting and willing bunnie from the pack and headed for the nearest hotel.

  I wanted to get back on the field, I told myself. Bullshit. Total bullshit. What I wanted was to make Iz admit we were different. Even if we both knew we really weren’t.

  “Levi!” I am still shamed at the cocky pride that burned through me when Iz followed us out.

  “Go back inside, Iz.” I’d bellowed, burrowing into the softness of the stranger I told myself I could fuck away my pain with.

  “Take me with. I don’t want to watch you be with someone else, Levi.” The other bunnie was down for anything of course.

  “But I can watch you be with everyone else, right?” Iz was smart, smarter than she wanted anyone to know and I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.

  “We both know nothing lasts. Neither of us know how to do this. Know a single thing other than being selfish. You still want to try?” I thought I loved her, thought what we had looked as close to love as I’d ever seen.