Blackout: A Romance Anthology

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  If he didn’t sit back down and cover himself up with the blanket soon, I wouldn’t remain strong for much longer. Damn him.

  “What do you mean whatever kind of discomfort this is here?” With him towering over me, his voice full of concern, he didn’t simply ask a question—he draped me in it, wrapped me up in his throaty baritone until I couldn’t breathe.

  At the very least, the man deserved the truth. “Honestly, Beckett, I don’t know how I feel about sharing a room with you. We don’t know each other, and to be frank, we don’t exactly have a reason to. You’re going home to England, and I live here, so it’s not like we even have the time or motivation to become better acquainted.”

  “It’s just one night, Jen. One night of sleep, at that. No touching or anything physical.” He bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair, causing the shadows in the room to dance along the natural curves of his impressive bicep.

  Thank God he had on a shirt, even if I could make out the lines of his pecs through it.

  “As strange as it sounds, that’s not what I’m uncomfortable about.”

  “Then what is it?” His tone carried a hint of frustration, though it didn’t come across as angry. If anything, it was driven by fear, as if spending the night alone frightened him, yet that didn’t make any sense.

  Although, it might have if I knew anything about him.

  Losing my grip on my composure, I raised my voice and said, “You won’t take the damn bed, Beckett.”

  “Is that what you want? You’ll stay if I sleep on the bed?”

  Shit. He got me there. “No, I didn’t say that.”

  “Exactly, so that’s not the issue. Tell me, Jenny…” He leaned down to bring his face closer to mine and cupped my cheeks. “Why does the thought of staying here tonight make you so uneasy?”

  “Because it’s crazy and foolish. And stupid and reckless. I’m twenty-nine years old; I shouldn’t be going back to random men’s hotel rooms to stay the night. Especially if I know squat about them other than they live across the world and leaving tomorrow. If something happens to me, I’m shit out of luck, aren’t I?” That certainly escalated quickly.

  Luckily, Beckett had a way of calming a situation with his whispered words and careful touch. “But you’re not scared of that; you said so yourself a couple of minutes ago. Now be honest, Jen. Shove the paranoia aside and dig deep until you find the real reason you don’t want to stay.”

  I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and worried it for a moment while fighting to form the words he sought. “We’re going to end up in bed together.”

  “No, we won’t. I’ve already told you—”

  “Not like that,” I interjected. “I mean, we will both end up being in that bed together at the same time. It’s unfair that you should sleep on a couch that’s half your size, or on the floor that’s probably harder than asphalt. Which puts me taking one of those, and I know me. I know how I am…and at some point in the middle of the night, I’ll convince myself that it’ll be okay, and I’ll crawl in next to you, just to get comfortable.”

  He waited a moment, then he shook his head and asked, “And?”

  “And I don’t trust myself beneath the covers with you.”

  “Ahh…” Beckett straightened his spine and practically howled his understanding into the otherwise quiet room. “So you aren’t worried about me doing anything to you. It’s the other way around. This makes more sense. But what if I promise to turn you down?”

  I scoffed and pushed him away, taking a step back for good measure. “Yeah right. Like you can make that kind of promise and keep it.”

  “You’d be surprised at my level of restraint, Jenny.”

  That might’ve been true, considering how surprised I was at my lack of restraint.

  He moved around me to the bed and pulled back the covers. Leaning over one side, he took two pillows and placed them down the center of the mattress. Then he turned to face me, patted the bed, and said, “Come on, love…hop in.”

  “This is a bad idea,” I groaned to myself while not doing anything to keep him from hearing.

  He did, of course, which left laughter dancing on his lips and jumping silently in his shoulders. “Only way one to find out, huh?”

  Against my better judgment, I slipped off my shoes and climbed beneath the covers. I was on my right side before the mattress dipped with his weight behind me. And for a few solid minutes, tranquility bathed us as we both acted as if the other wasn’t there.

  Then his voice broke through the silence. “You remind me of my wife.”

  I rolled to my back and turned my head toward him, utterly baffled. “In what way?”

  Beckett kept his attention on the ceiling but answered. “Your quiet disposition.” His head fell to the side, half of his face cushioned by the pillow, while he regarded me. “She was the same way, and it fascinated me because I knew her thoughts were so loud. Not angry or anything…just passionate.”

  “And I somehow remind you of that?”

  “Yeah. From the outside, you’re proper, put together, composed. But I’m willing to bet when you were laying there a minute ago, your thoughts were the complete opposite, weren’t they? They were screaming, filling your head with things you want to say but never will, things you want to confess but can’t.”

  And now, I just wanted to run.

  It seemed he was a mind reader, and that terrified me more than sharing a bed with him.

  “Is this part of your plan?” I pointed to him and them myself. “Compare me to the woman who left you so you won’t be tempted when I throw myself at you?”

  It had been meant as a joke, yet he didn’t laugh. Hell, I doubted he even smiled. Instead, he returned his attention to the ceiling, his harsh swallow audible from where I was. “She didn’t leave me on purpose.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m unaware how you can accidentally leave someone.”

  “She was diagnosed with cancer right after uni. That’s why we decided to get married so quickly.” When he allowed me to see his eyes again, the light from the window behind me caused them to resemble two pieces of coal. “We wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, but until then, we were in no hurry. She was the one who suggested we speed up the timeline, since no one knew how long the rest of our lives could be.”

  “Oh my God, Beckett…I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “Don’t apologize. You didn’t give her cancer.”

  No matter how long I lay there, desperately trying to find the right words, nothing came to me. I was left with the assurance of my touch and all the wrong words. Reaching over the barrier of pillows, I grazed his cheek with my knuckle and said, “I know, but I’m still sorry. No one should ever have to go through that.”

  Everything suddenly made sense now. The way he’d shut down earlier in the club after sharing a little about his ex, how down he became. His wasn’t merely a broken heart; it was splintered and fragile, one soft breeze away from shattering. And that was the worst kind of broken heart to have. At least with me, I’d already begun to pick up the pieces. It may not be whole, and by the time I finish putting it back together, there will most definitely be parts missing. But with Beckett, he couldn’t start the healing process, because he’d spent all this time holding it together, protecting his heart the way he couldn’t protect his wife. And because of that, he would remain in this space of in between until he allowed it to fall apart. For only then would he be able to pick up the shards and begin to reconstruct his heart.

  “You said it’s been two years?”

  He nodded, then followed it up with a strangled, “Yeah.”

  “And you haven’t done anything to move on?”

  “Not really. I’ve given in when I needed the company or touch, but nothing beyond that.”

  While I should’ve felt cheap and used, I didn’t. Which might’ve been because I hadn’t allowed him to work me over under any false pretenses. I was completely aware of the situation
and didn’t wear any rose-tinted glasses. If anything, I understood him more now than before.

  “Like what we did, you mean?”

  “No.” It wasn’t so much his choked voice that made my heart skip a beat, but his answer. “I saw you for a brief moment in the cage when the song first started, and you caught my attention faster than emergency service lights. While you don’t look like her, there’s something about you, down to your appearance, that reminds me of her. I haven’t been able to figure it out, though. The only thing I can think of is it’s your demeanor, and maybe that affects the way I see you physically?”

  “It’s entirely possible.” Stranger things have happened. “A lot of times, character traits like the way someone tilts their head or squints in thought can evoke a memory of someone who may not look anything like the person you’re comparing them to, but to you, it’s an overpowering sense of familiarity.”

  “Whatever it is, Jenny…thank you for allowing me this time.” He took my hand in his and linked our fingers together, and then lowered his hold on me to his chest where he rested it against his heartbeat. “I realize it’s completely ridiculous—you aren’t her, and to be honest, the more I pay attention, the less resemblance I see—but I appreciate the company nonetheless.”

  We were about to get deep, and it could possibly blow up in my face, yet I had to go for it. “Why do you think you haven’t tried to heal from it? You can begin to move on without forgetting her or losing her memory. Not to mention, moving on doesn’t have to be a jump. It can be a slow progression, as long as you need it to be until you wake up one day and find yourself thinking of someone else.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure it is.” I added a hit of enthusiasm to that, taking the role of his cheerleader.

  He shook his head and turned away once more, though he never released my hand. “I don’t have many genuine people around me; everybody’s out for what they can get. It’s exhausting, and it makes me doubt I’ll ever find someone to spend my time with.”

  I rolled onto my left side, fully facing him now, and it was enough to call his attention back to me. “What do you mean?”

  “This.” He lifted our joined hands and shook them before dropping them back onto his chest. Apparently, that was meant as a gesture to us somehow. “Just being me. Talking to a bird I get on well with, someone I like listening to. You make me smile, and you don’t do it for any personal gain. If I never find love again, I’d be happy with this. Just someone to share my day with.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yeah. But I’d prefer a friend of the female variety. I lost my wife; I wasn’t castrated.”

  I moved my face into the pillow that separated us and laughed.

  “I mean it. Having one person to handle it all is much better than a few I have to keep up with. It’s simpler, less complicated. And it feels nice.”

  I blinked at him while catching my breath. “You just described a girlfriend, Beckett.”

  “Oh whatever. Call it what you will.” Mirroring me, he shifted on the mattress until he lay on his right side, our hands still joined but now resting on the pillow between us. “Any chance you might be willing to tell me your story now? The long one about your job and your ex?”

  I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t exactly tell him no after he’d shared his pain with me.

  “You must really be tired if you’re asking for this story…it’s a real snoozer. Will put you right to sleep.”

  “Doubtful, Jenny, but go on. Let’s hear it.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Beckett

  Unloading my emotional baggage in her lap was never part of the plan, and it certainly wasn’t done so to guilt her into opening up about her own. But if that was how the cookie crumbled, then far be it for me to stop it.

  “Jason and I were together for five years. I thought we would get married and, one day, have our own little family. We talked about it so many times it was like part of our life plan, you know? Well, one day, he brought up the idea of moving to his hometown—some tiny, two-traffic-light town he grew up in. His stepdad had passed away not too long before that, and it made him want to be closer to his family.”

  “So they still lived there?” This topic had been broached enough times for me to understand I’d have to interject with questions in order to get the full story. If left up to her, she’d likely give me the bare minimum.

  “Yeah, his entire family.”

  “You knew them, though…right?”

  Hesitating, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. I’d caught her doing this a time or two, and I found it cute. It showed me she was a contemplative person, but if she wasn’t pushed, she’d reward you with a very thought-out answer.

  “I knew his mom, stepdad, and one of his cousins. But no, I hadn’t met the rest of them.”

  That seemed odd. “Why not?”

  Her right shoulder curled closer to her ear in a shrug. “He never took me home to meet them, and they never came out here to see him. So it just never happened. And until he left, I never thought twice about it. But that might’ve been because I’ve never been close to my own family, so I don’t immediately think about others being close to theirs. And being close to someone else’s family isn’t something that crosses my mind. It doesn’t register high on my priority list, even though I’m sure it should.”

  “You shouldn’t beat yourself up over that. Everyone’s different, and if he didn’t make an effort to involve you that much into his entire family, then you can’t put that on yourself.”

  She stroked her thumb over mine in a calming fashion, and I wondered if that was meant for her or me. Except, I didn’t ask because she continued with the tale of her ex. “We had talked about moving, and I was up for it. I loved him, and if he wanted to leave Vegas for a good reason, I planned to support him. But when it went from a hypothetical to something that was actually going to happen—and happen quickly—I got scared.”

  I could drown in the regret that flooded her voice.

  “I had asked him for more time, saying I needed to pay off my debt and get things at the show squared away.” She sniffled, and it took every ounce of strength I had to keep from wiping her eyes, just to see if she was crying. “Jason gave me everything I asked for. More time. And then even more. He’d given notice at work, and he had already been replaced, so in his defense, he was staying back for me without pay. Meanwhile, I was dragging my feet because the thought of giving everything up for a life I wasn’t even sure I fit into scared the crap out of me.”

  “Let me guess…he found out you were stalling?”

  “Yeah.” This time, she wiped her eyes, indicating that, yes, she was crying—at the very least, teary-eyed. “But before that, I auditioned for a new show at Bally’s. At first, I just wanted to see if I’d get the part. It was the queen-bee position, and I’d never held that spot before. And as luck would have it, they gave it to me. Which only made my decision that much harder to make.”

  I wasn’t sure how she could think this story wasn’t interesting…it was full of twists and turns I assumed only a bored housewife could come up with while writing a romance novel. There was no way this could’ve put me to sleep; I was too invested in the outcome.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “he found out that I was buying time and got pissed. At that point, I realized my answer was easy, so I resigned from the show, gave up the prime spot on the stage, and planned to follow through with my promise to Jason. Unfortunately, I was too late in his mind, and it doesn’t help that he refuses to give second chances to anyone who he feels has betrayed him.”

  I hesitantly moved my left arm over the barrier between us and draped it over her waist for support. “And to him, your fears and concerns were a betrayal.”

  “Yup,” she whispered, head nodding against her pillow. “And no matter what I did or how much I explained and begged him to hear me out, he refused. He left like the devil was chasing him, couldn’t get away from me fa
st enough.”

  “That’s how you lost your place at the other show?”

  “I think that bothered me almost as much as Jason leaving. I’d been there for years. Granted, there were others who had been on that stage longer, but still, I wasn’t a newbie. They told me I could audition for the next show, but the best they could do was give me a back-up part.” She groaned in frustration, though it wasn’t clear who or what it was directed toward. “Talk about a slap in the face…even though I fully understood where they were coming from. Their hands were tied, the spots already filled, and it wouldn’t be fair to pull one of the girls just because I couldn’t get my shit straight.”

  “I take it this is how you ended up in a cage at the Steven Tyler?”

  “Wow, Beckett…you’re a good guesser. See? I didn’t even need to tell you the whole story; you could’ve figured it out all on your own.” It was nice to hear the return of her teasing tone. “So while I don’t hate my job, it’s basically a nightly reminder of how I successfully fucked up every good thing in my life.”

  “Then why don’t you leave?”

  She balked, and if I could’ve seen her face, I bet I would’ve found her brows drawn together and her top lip quirked. “And go where? I don’t see how that would change anything, Beckett. Regardless of what show I dance in, it’ll still be a constant reminder.”

  “No, Jenny. I don’t mean leave the show for another. I was talking about leaving. Las Vegas. All of this. Go somewhere new and start over. Travel the world. Learn new cultures. Whatever it is that strikes your fancy…do it.” Just talking about it excited me, and I wasn’t the one with the opportunity.

  Jen rolled onto her back, covered her eyes with her forearm, and laughed, filling the room with her infectious amusement. “I can’t do that; are you crazy? I make decent money, sure…but it won’t afford me to quit my job and travel. Hell, I bet I couldn’t stay in the state and survive after a year.”

  “Why not?”

  The humor died on her tongue as she turned only her head to face me. “This was my argument with Jason—well, one of them. Dancing is all I’ve ever done. It’s not like there’s a high demand for showgirls all over the country. How would I get a job anywhere else without any experience?”