I follow after her and come to stand behind her. I place my hands on her narrow hips and lean down to where my lips are by her ear. I watch her smile in the mirror in front of us. “He’s taking my bike.”
“Good,” she says happily, and I chuckle. “Then I won’t have to listen to him and some random chick make out in the backseat of your truck.”
I smile before I give her a soft kiss on her cheek and then pull away to finish getting ready.
Once ready, I walk into the living room to see Missy trying to hand Parker the helmet that Sam had bought me for Christmas last year. The woman still asks me every day if I wear it. And I tell her no every time. I’m surprised Missy even found it. I had it hidden in the back of my closet. Where it belongs.
“I’m not going to wear his helmet,” Parker say shaking his head with his hands up in front of him.
“You’re going to a bar. And you’re going to have a few drinks. Wear it! It may end up saving your life,” she says shoving it into his stomach.
He huffs as he leans over and takes it before she drops it. “Thanks,” he says, before he gives a little cough.
“Plus,” she adds, “it will keep you warm. It’s cold outside.”
She turns and places her jacket on before grabbing her purse by the front door. I smile over at Parker, and he gives me a smirk. “Since when did she become so bossy?” he asks jokingly.
“Since she has to put up with me.” And I smile to myself. Maybe we were what the other needed all along.
******
We’ve been at the bar for only twenty minutes when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see Mom written across the screen. It automatically shifts my mood from happy to pissy.
I don’t speak to her. Ever! I haven’t even seen her in I don’t know how long. She came to the states last year for Sam and Slade’s wedding, because she was Sam’s mother, Marie’s, best friend. I knew she would never miss Sam’s wedding, but I never spoke to her at it. And have refused to answer her phone calls. I have no use for her. I might have allowed Missy in but she deserved it. My mother deserves nothing from me. She was never there for me. Why should I be there for her?
“You okay?” Missy asks placing a hand on my shoulder.
I nod. “Fine.” Her lips frown as if she doesn’t believe me, and I try to give her a smile. I don’t want to bring her down when she is in a good mood.
“Where the fuck are all the hot women?” Parker asks as he scopes out the club.
“Well, it is still early,” Missy offers before taking a sip of her Long Island.
“I don’t wanna stay all night,” he whines leaning back in his seat. He pulls out his phone.
“Calling in a chick?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “Facebook. I took a selfie of myself on Tate’s bike and set it as my profile pic this morning. It’s already getting me some ass.”
I chuckle as Missy rolls her eyes. “You know,” Missy says tilting her head to the side staring at him. “I have this one friend. She has a boyfriend, but I don’t see it lasting long…”
“WHOA!” he all but shouts lifting his hands. “Pump the brakes.”
Missy scrunches her brows. “What does that mean?”
He rolls his eyes. “It means slow your roll.” She goes to speak but he doesn’t let her. “I don’t let friends hook me up with friends. Plus, she has a boyfriend. That’s how you meet the crazy bitches that never go away. I prefer to meet a stranger, have wild and crazy sex, and then go on my way. Never to see them again,” he finishes and then goes back to texting on his phone.
“That sounds very lonely,” Missy says sadly and he looks up from his phone to her. For a small fraction of a second I see his eyes soften. I remember what he told me while we sat at the kitchen table. I could be completely wrong, but I think Parker is lonely. But, like any other man, he refuses to show it.
“How about her?” Missy offers, trying not to point at a girl who just walked in.
Parker pulls back his lips in disgust as he looks over his shoulder. “No,” he says flatly.
“What? She’s hot,” she defends her.
From a man’s point of view—she’s okay. Not a ten that you would jump on as soon as she walks in. She is the type who you would wait til the end of the night when you realize no one else is willing to go home with you.
I know, men are bastards. It’s been this way since the beginning, yet women still want us for some strange reason.
“She wouldn’t be hot if she poured honey all over her legs and rolled around in hundred dollar bills,” he says matter-of-fact, and I smile. Some of the shit he comes up with amazes me
“I think she has nice legs,” Missy says still staring at her.
“Good. Then you two can take her home,” Parker throws over his shoulder as he gets up from his seat and heads to the bar for another drink.
I lean back in my seat to dig my phone out of my pocket once again as I feel it vibrate.
Mom
“Mommy,” I cry out as I watch his fist hit her face.
He looks up and points at me. “You’re next,” he shouts.
I turn and run to my room. I grab my teddy bear off of my bed and run into my closet. I huddle up against the back wall as tears run down my face. It’s dark and silent in here. Most kids are afraid of the dark. But I like the darkness. He can’t see me if it’s dark. It swallows me up as if I don’t exist. Sometimes I wish I didn’t.
Why is Daddy so mad? What did I do wrong this time? I always stay out of his way.
I scream in surprise as the door bursts open and light fills the closet. “Please, Daddy...” I beg but he tears the teddy bear out of my hands.
He then grabs my arm and yanks me up, causing pain in my shoulder. He pushes me forward, and I fall to my knees outside of my closet.
“Stop,” my mom cries running into my room. “Please leave him alone.” She falls down to her knees beside me and covers me with her body.
I cling to her sweatshirt hoping she’ll save me from Daddy. He hurts me.
“Think she can save you, boy?” he asks, and I feel his boot hit the back of my leg.
“Please stop,” she repeats.
“Such a coward. Both of you.” Then he pulls me from her arms and holds me in front of him by my arms. She doesn’t even try to hold onto me. Why didn’t she try to keep me safe? “See, son. A man is supposed to be the ruler of the house. He shouldn’t be a coward or weak. He’s strong and knows how to keep others in line.” What is he talking about? “Do you agree?’
I don’t know what he’s asking, but I say what he wants to hear. “Yes, Daddy,” I say as tears run down my face. I try to move my shoulders to loosen his grip but he doesn’t.
He looks over at my mother with a smirk on his face before he looks back to me. “Good boy. Women respect what they fear. And the man of the house deserves respect. Isn’t that right, honey?” he asks, and I hear her whimper.
He lets go of me and stands up. “I’m going out. When I get back I expect dinner.” And with that he turns and walks out of my room.
“I’m so sorry, Tate,” she cries. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”
“I love you too, Mommy.” I cry as I rub my shoulder.
My jaw tightens and I press ignore, before placing it face down on the table.
“You’re not gonna talk to your mother?” Missy asks.
I look down at her. “I don’t speak to my mother.” Plain and simple.
She frowns. “Why not?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I say before tossing back my beer.
“But…it’s your mother,” she states, and I grind my teeth in frustration.
“Yeah, she is. And how long did you go without talking to your mother?” I snap, remembering her telling me that she avoided her family after she lost the baby.
She huffs as she sits back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. I can’t tell her everything. How much can she possibly take bef
ore she realizes how truly bad of a person I am? My mother doesn’t need me anyway. She has her sister in Alaska. That’s why she moved back there with me in the first place. My mother and her family are from there. Her ex-husband is from the states but she met him while he was up there on business. She had moved back here with him and that’s when she had an affair with Jack—my father. My dead father.
“Well, I think we need to hit another bar,” Parker says plopping down into his seat. “There’s no pussy here that I would fuck.”
“Excuse me,” Missy announces, pushing her seat back and stomping off to the bar with her purse.
“Trouble in paradise already?” Parker quips.
“Shut up,” I snap. The table vibrates and I growl knowing it’s my phone.
“Going to get that?”
“No.” I stare at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to push the matter, but he leans back giving up and I look over to the bar.
My fists tighten when I see Missy standing at the bar. The guy standing next to her is talking to her. He pulls back a little bit and I get a good look at his face. It’s the same motherfucker who had bought her a drink the night I went to the bar on her birthday.
I shove my seat back, and it hits the floor. Parker jumps up. “What is it?”
It probably shouldn’t piss me off as bad as it does. I mean, she won’t even turn to look at him. He’s the one leaning into her and speaking. But she’s fucking mine and that asshole needs a lesson anyway.
He says something, and she shakes her head. She throws her purse over her shoulder and turns giving him her back as she starts to walk away. He grabs her hips and pulls her back to his front, wrapping his arm around her waist. I watch her mouth the one word that I can’t fucking stand. Please. She’s begging him to release her as she tries to pull away from him.
The notion brings back the memory of the day I watched my mother and her husband fuck! The sick bastard liked it when she begged for his cock.
He reaches out and grabs the back of her head by her hair. “I’m horny,” he growls, and she lets out a whimper. “Give Daddy what he wants.”
“Anything,” she says, but this time her voice is different. She isn’t crying, and she isn’t fighting him.
He bends her over the dresser and spreads her legs with his boot. “Please,” she begs. He pauses and looks up in the mirror and his eyes connect with mine. I’m frozen in place as he gives her an evil smile. “Tell me you love me,” he demands before his hand lands on her butt.
She cries out, “I love you.”
What? How can she love him? She always tells me she loves me. And that she’s sorry. How can she love a monster who only hurts us?
“Who do you love the most?” he demands.
“You, just you. Please.” She wiggles her body against his and he lets go of her hair to undo his pants.
“What are you gonna do to make Daddy happy?” he asks her as he grabs a hold of himself.
She takes in a deep breath and licks her lips. “Lick it clean.”
His eyes remain trained on mine in the mirror as he leans over her to whisper in her ear. “Such a good little whore.”
“What the fuck is wrong, man?” Parker demands, getting my attention. I look over to see Missy try to push the guy off and I lose it.
I reach over the table and grab my helmet that Parker had worn up here. Finally I’ll put this baby to good use. And then storm over to the bar with Parker hot on my trail.
I reach out and grab Missy’s wrist and pull her toward me. The fucker looks up and releases her as soon as he sees me.
Parker ends up catching her as I push her away and I lift my arm wide, swinging my helmet out before it makes contact with his head. It slams him into the bar and I hear Missy yell out from behind me.
I throw the helmet to the ground and hit him with my fist this time as he turns to come at me. “Motherfucker,” I curse as my fist hits his jaw hard. My hand instantly goes numb. I pull it back and shake it out.
“Tate?” I hear Parker yell before he places his hands on my shoulder. I spin around lifting my arm to punch him as well when I see Missy standing behind him with her hand over her mouth and tears running down her cheeks.
I pause for a second and look down at the man lying on the floor. He huddles in the fetal position as he moans in agony; blood covers his face and also my hand.
I lean down to speak to him. “I told you to leave her alone. That was your second warning. Next time, I’ll kill you.” I stand and then take a step toward Missy but she takes a step back. I guess that’s expected.
“Go,” Parker says, looking around the dead bar as he runs his hand over his head. One good thing about this is that it’s a weeknight and there is hardly anyone here. “I’ll take care of it.” He bends down and picks up the helmet and hands it off to Missy.
I take a deep breath and walk right past her and out the exit.
******
MISSY
I follow after Tate on shaky legs. What the heck just happened? We went from having a great time to him beating the shit out of a guy with a helmet and his fist in a matter of seconds.
I climb up into this truck and close the door. I push my body into it wanting as much space as possible from him.
He looks over to me quickly and he notices how I have smashed myself up against the door. “Scared?” His deep voice is clipped as he pulls out of the parking spot.
“Shouldn’t I be?” I ask. If that was his intention, then he achieved it.
“That had nothing to do with you,” he snaps, merging onto the highway.
“So you beat him up over your mother?” I ask, getting angry.
“Quit talking about my mother.” His voice rises, and I snap.
“No,” I scream, slamming my hands down on my legs. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand. “Why would you hit that guy? You could have killed him,” I state furious.
He turns the steering wheel hard and the tires screech to a halt on the side of the road as my body slams forward. It comes to a hard stop and he turns to face me. “You think I care if he would have died? He had his hands on you.”
“You said it didn’t have anything to do with me,” I state. “And what about you, Tate? You can’t just hit people like that.” These days people carry guns. Hell, I refuse to watch the news because all I see are killings and robberies. You never know what it will take for a person to snap.
He gives a dark laugh. “You think I wouldn’t kill someone?” He shakes his head. “Then you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”
“I don’t,” I snap and his eyes harden. “You keep everything from me.”
“I keep it from you because you would leave me. If you knew what I was capable of, then you would realize just how fucked-up I am,” he shouts before he leans back in his seat and lets out a long breath.
I look down to my hands knotted in my lap. I take in a deep breath before I speak. “I don’t know what you expect from me. What kind of person do you think I am?” I ask looking over at him. “All I’ve tried to do is help you. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, Tate.” He continues to look straight ahead through the windshield at the side of the road. “What I care about is what you do now. Are you trying to push me away?” I ask.
His head snaps over to mine. “No.” He shifts, getting closer to me, and this time I don’t move away. Instead I reach out to him, placing my hands in his. “I’m just…” He takes a deep breath. “I’m trying, but that guy grabbed you. I saw you push him away but he had a hold of you.” His dark blue eyes look into mine. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t want you to fear me, Missy. I want to protect you. Even from myself.” He looks down to our hands and shakes his head at himself. Then he lifts his head. “Do you hate me?”
“I could never hate you, Tate.” I swallow nervously. “I love you,” I whisper.
His body stiffens, and his hands tighten on mine. “You can’t love someone li
ke me,” he says and shakes his head as if that is impossible. “Did you know that I almost killed him? My mother’s ex-husband?”
“But you didn’t,” I say softly.
“I wanted to. I couldn’t even fucking succeed in that.” He gives a dark laugh at himself.
“He beat you…”
“Yes. I know,” he snaps, before letting go of my hands and running one
over his face. “I have reminders.” He looks down to the black tribal ink that runs up his arm. I know he has them in certain places to cover the scars that Jonathan left him with. “I don’t need to be fucking reminded,” he growls. “And I’m just like him. I’m a beast,” he whispers. “Inside and out.”
“You think that’s why I can’t love you? Because you have scars?” I shake my head at him. “Everyone has scars, Tate. Some just aren’t worn on the outside where the world can see them.”
I lift my hand and place it over his shirt where I know the scar remains across his chest from when he found Sam drugged and bound in a basement. He had fought the kidnapper, her ex, who pulled a knife on him. “Some of these scars may be a reminder of what tragedy you endured as a child. But this one.” I press my hand harder against his chest. “This one shows how much you love.” I look up to him and he closes his eyes as if that word pains him. “No matter how much you want to call yourself a beast or how much hatred you have. You have love, Tate. You would be willing to sacrifice yourself to save another.”
He opens his eyes and places his hands on either side of my face. “I would sacrifice myself to save you,” he says with more emotion than I have ever seen. Sometimes you don’t have to hear the words ‘I love you’ to know how much one cares for you.
I smile up at him. “That doesn’t make you a beast, Tate. That makes you my savoir.”
He releases a long breath and lowers his forehead to mine. “I hate when you make me feel this way,” he whispers.
“What way?” I reach up and run my hand through his dark hair.
The UN Series Complete Box Set Page 144
