“Well, it shouldn’t. Find some other girl to screw with. I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you.”
“Not interested in any other girls,” he said, his voice low and raspy, causing goosebumps to break out along my arms.
“That’s too bad for you, because I’m not interested,” I said with a conviction I wasn’t feeling. “In fact, my friend Rina wanted me to talk her up to you. I bet you two would really hit it off. She wouldn’t mind you being an asshole, and you’d think she’s hot. It’s a win-win for everybody.”
For some reason, just saying those words made my stomach clench and my fingers tighten into a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. The jealousy that spiked through me just then wasn’t an appropriate response at all. I couldn’t stand this guy. I didn’t want his attention. Or at least that was what I was telling myself. So why did the thought of Rina with Jensen leave such a sour taste in my mouth?
His jaw ticked, the muscle working as he clenched his teeth together. “You can talk your friend up all you want. It won’t make a difference.”
I was secretly thrilled and scared to death by his response. “Let go of my door, please.”
“Where do you have to be?”
“Jensen,” I growled, using his name for the first time, “move away.”
He leaned closer, those eyes flashing with lightning. “Then answer the question.”
“Work!” I snapped, losing grip on my control, and it was all his fault. I’d never felt this unbalanced in my life. “I have to go to work, and you’re making me late! And for your information, this right here is why I don’t like you. You do whatever the hell you want without giving a shit to how it affects anyone else. Now move . . . back.”
For the second time in a handful of minutes, he surprised me by shooting up and stepped away from my car. I instantly yanked the door shut and started the engine. He was still standing there as I backed out of the spot and drove from the parking lot.
And as I glanced in my rearview mirror, I told myself I didn’t care about the flash of melancholy I’d seen chiseled into his features.
But I knew that was a damn lie.
Chapter Four
Jensen
“Come on you son of a bitch,” I grunted, my grip on the screwdriver tightening until the color bleached out of my knuckles. I put all my power into trying to force that screw to turn, only for it to strip, causing my hand to slip. My knuckles scraped against the wood, slicing open and leaving a trail of blood.
“Goddamn, motherfucker!” Throwing the screwdriver across the room, I stood up and gave the boards a solid kick, making the wood splinter and snap. “Stupid piece of shit!”
“So is this the infamous temper you been tellin’ us about?”
I looked over my shoulder to find Gage standing in the doorway, shoulder propped against the frame as he took a huge bite out of one of my apples. “I told you, asshole. If you’re gonna keep raiding my fridge, you have to put in for groceries.”
Laeth joined us just then, coming up beside Gage and lifting one of my beers to his lips. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Jensen’s beating up a poor defenseless piece of furniture.”
Laeth looked down at where tools and boards and screws littered the bedroom floor before arching a brow. “What’s that supposed to be anyway? A bookshelf?”
“It’s supposed to be a bunk bed set. But those assholes at Ikea don’t know how to make an instruction manual that people can actually read.” Stomping over to them, I snatched the beer from Laeth’s hand. “And you pricks need to stay the hell outta my fridge.”
Gage leaned closer to Laith and muttered out the side of his mouth. “I think it’s his time of the month,” before biting off another chunk of apple.
If I didn’t love those guys like brothers, I’d beat the hell out of them. But more than they annoyed me, I was thankful as hell to have them around. The truth was, I didn’t know where I would’ve been today had it not been for them. Aside from Shane and Brantley, they were the closest thing to family I’d ever had. We’d been in the service together. They had my back in more than just the warzones. The three of us owed each other our lives, both figuratively and literally. But it was more than that.
They knew everything about me, even the ugliest truths I’d never told anyone else. They knew about my past. About the nightmares I’d grown up with, about Shane. And they were still here.
When I made the decision to leave the Army, they hadn’t blinked at leaving with me. They knew why I had to come back home, and how hard that was going to be for me, so they’d packed up their lives and moved to Redemption without me having to ask.
With the skills and training we’d received during our time in the service, we’d come up with the idea to open Elite Security, a personal security business. We were based in Redemption, but we worked all over Tennessee, and sometimes the surrounding states. I’d worried at first that I wouldn’t be welcomed back in this small, tight-knit community, and that our attempt at starting a business would take a hit from that. We’d stayed afloat at first because of our contracts in other cities, but when a man named Jase Hyland hired us during a tense situation involving his woman and his parents, the rest of the town had seen the outcome of that case and—somewhat hesitantly and with a shitload of trepidation—welcomed us into the fold.
But I hadn’t come home to start a business. I’d come home for them, for the life and family I’d left behind. I’d come back because I’d left my reasons for existing behind years ago, and it was time to reclaim them. I’d left town as an angry asshole who didn’t deserve to be a father, and I certainly didn’t deserve a woman as incredible as Shane, but I had changed. I wasn’t that guy anymore. For years, I’d busted my ass to become a man worthy of the woman who’d held my heart in the palm of her hands from the first moment I laid eyes on her. A man worthy of the child we’d made.
I’d been back a little over four months now, and while my relationship with my son was working to fill an empty place inside of me, I still wasn’t any closer to winning Shane back than I’d been the day I stepped foot over the town limits. It was time to step up my game. Only, I didn’t have the first fucking clue how to do that.
“Those bunk beds mean Shane’s finally gonna let you have the little rug rat for overnights?” Laeth asked, a gaze of longing resting on the beer bottle I was holding. That look caused the skin on the back of my neck to prickle. It was barely after eleven in the morning on a weekday, and already he was drinking—something he’d started doing more frequently lately.
Glancing over, I caught Gage’s eye and we shared a look of concern. It wasn’t uncommon for Laeth to kick back with a drink every now and then, but he had slowly started to get worse. It went from every once in a while to hitting up the bars on Friday and Saturday nights and getting shit-faced with alarming frequency. Now he was popping the top on a beer in the middle of a weekday. It might have been his day off, but the pattern was becoming worrisome. Something was up, but no matter how many times we asked, he’d insist it was nothing.
“Not yet,” I answered, pushing past the guys and heading for the kitchen. They followed after me as I continued. “I’m hoping if she sees I’ve got a space set up for him, she’ll finally start softening to the idea. In the meantime, I want to have something ready for when or if it finally happens.”
I dumped the rest of the beer down the sink and tossed the bottle in the trash. Moving to the fridge, I pulled out three waters and passed them out before bracing my hands on the island and looking across to where they sat on the new stools I’d purchased a couple weeks back. My house was still a work in progress, but it was finally starting to come together. It was nice and big with four bedrooms, a separate study, a huge kitchen, and three and a half baths. I’d purchased it with every intention of eventually moving Shane and Brantley in with me so we could make it a home together. For now, it was just a sad, pathetic excuse of a crash pad with empty rooms and bare-bones furniture. I was
still sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the master bedroom, for Christ’s sake.
“So I take it you didn’t use the wedding as an opportunity to finally hash shit out?” Gage asked.
In the time I’d been back, I’d been trying to have the talk with Shane we so desperately needed to have, only she’d avoided me at every turn, making it damn near impossible. If it didn’t directly involve our son, she didn’t want to have a fucking thing to do with me, and she made that clear. With her uncle and her goddamn beast of a brother always standing between me and the woman I wanted, I barely got the chance to look at her, let alone talk to her.
The wedding was supposed to change all of that. It was going to be my chance to finally apologize for leaving her, a chance to beg and plead if I needed to. But more, it was supposed to be my chance to get some answers of my own. The questions I needed to ask had been plaguing me since the second I set foot back inside this town.
There were so many things I didn’t understand, and she was the only person who could sort that out for me . . . if she’d just talk to me.
“Didn’t work out the way it was supposed to,” I grumbled, the plastic of the water bottle crinkling beneath my grip as my fingers tightened.
If I was being honest, it hadn’t worked out because I’d fucked it all up. At first I hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but how good it felt to hold her in my arms again. Seeing her in that bridesmaid dress had been a shock to my system. The way the long, flowing, copper-colored strapless dress hugged her had me fighting against getting hard the entire night. It was like being a teenager all over again with no control over my erections.
Back when we were together, I’d known every inch of her soft, silky skin, every dip and swell. I’d memorized it so well I could draw up the image of her any time I needed it, which had been a lot over the years. Time and motherhood had changed her body. Her stomach was once again flat, but her curves were more pronounced, her breasts were fuller, her hips wider, making her waist look even tinier.
Once I’d finally gotten a hold of myself and was able to talk without risk of my dick trying to bust through my pants, I’d messed it up by being an asshole. I said the absolute wrong thing, making anger and sadness spark behind those sweet amber eyes. I fucking hated myself for being the reason for that look on her face. If I’d had any doubts before, that confrontation had cleared them right up. She hated me in the most profound and absolute way. The pain of that realization was so stark, so extreme, that it was a wonder I hadn’t started bleeding out right there on the dance floor.
“Christ, Jens. We’ve been here over four months,” Gage stated, like I didn’t already know that.
I looked to my friend, a scowl firmly in place. “You stating the obvious for a reason, or just to annoy the shit out of me?”
“You gotta stop waiting for a situation to present itself and fuckin’ make one already.”
“It’s not that easy,” I insisted. “You fucking know that.”
Gage, normally a man of few words—those words usually being curses that came out in grunts or mutters—didn’t let up. “You been on pause since the day you left here, and that shit’s only gotten worse since you came back. You aren’t livin’ brother, you’re just existing. And it’s gonna stay that way until you finally nut up and go after what you want.”
“Jesus,” Laeth grunted, turning to Gage with the same shock on his face I was feeling. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you string that many sentences together at once, man.”
“Fuck off,” he clipped, tossing the apple core across the kitchen and right into the trash can before giving me a pointed look. “You know I’m right.”
“So what are you suggesting?” I asked, lifting the water bottle and downing the whole thing. Thanks to this conversation my throat felt like I’d swallowed a bag of cotton balls, and I desperately needed the relief.
“I’m suggesting you go over there when she’s least expecting it. Blitz attack, when she doesn’t have her crew to cut you off at the pass.”
“That could blow up in his face,” Laeth stated, giving voice to exactly what I was thinking.
“It could, but it’s not like what he’s doing now is getting him anywhere.” Another good point.
The two of them kept at it, arguing over what I should or shouldn’t do to get Shane to speak to me. Instead of listening to them, I tossed the empty water bottle in the trash, shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, and grabbed my keys.
“Where’re you goin’?” Laeth asked as I rounded the island and started out of the kitchen.
“Blitz attack,” I called out over my shoulder. “Lock up when you leave, and stay the hell out of my fridge.”
Chapter Five
Jensen
Eighteen years old
I knew I’d just walked into one of the many circles of hell that made up my life the moment I stepped through the front door and shut it behind me. It was in the air. It crackled with a dark, imposing energy, so stifling it was like turning the temperature all the way up on the oven and opening the door, all that heat blasting you right in the face. It could only mean one thing.
“Jensen! Get up here right now!”
And there it was. My old man was home from work early, and he was pissed—not that that was anything new. The man was a miserable old bastard on his best day. He was such a dick that even though he was gearing up to rip into me, he’d still make me come to him in order to do it.
I started for the stairs, knowing exactly what was in store, and after so many years of it, making myself numb on the inside in order to endure.
My foot hit the first step when something from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Turning my head, I spotted my mom standing at the entrance to the kitchen, an ever-present glass of wine in her hand. She might have been immaculately dressed in a tight pencil skirt, a silk blouse, heels, and diamonds, not a strand of her fake blonde hair out of place, but I could see it in the slight sway of her posture and her bloodshot eyes. She’d been at it for a while, probably well into her third bottle of wine and Christ only knew how many pills. She didn’t say a word, just gave me a disapproving sneer before turning her back on me.
She wouldn’t help me. She never did. That would’ve meant going against my father, and there was no way in hell she’d go against Whitman Rose. Not when he gave her the lifestyle she craved so damn much.
When I was six, I got locked in the closet for two days with no food or water, forced to spend all that time in soiled pants because I’d been so scared I’d wet myself. She got a diamond tennis bracelet. At ten, I was beaten so badly with my dad’s belt that I had welts and bruises for days. The only relief I’d felt the whole time was when I laid flat on my stomach and didn’t move. She got a week long spa visit that ended with a shopping spree. When he’d decided he wanted to ship me off to a boarding school in New England—all because I finally got sick of being knocked around and had the nerve to hit back—he appeased her by giving her a vacation to the Mediterranean. That was his way of keeping me under his thumb once I got too big for him to beat the shit out of. He sent me away.
I was Whitman Rose’s punching bag, she was his trophy wife, and he kept her supplied with pills and booze on the off chance she finally grew a backbone and attempted to stand up for her only child—something she’d never do.
From the outside, I looked like everything Shane had accused me of being: a rich, entitled asshole. I was an asshole, but only because I didn’t know any other way to be. I’d had the hell beaten out of me for so long that the only time I felt good was when I was inflicting that kind of pain on someone else. At least with those assholes at my school I knew I’d win. And I was never the one to start any of those fights. They’d push and push, knowing I’d snap, and when I finally did, all I saw was red, all I felt was this twisted exhilaration. Each fight was like an out of body experience. I’d lose complete control, only stopping when someone else stepped in to break it up, usually havi
ng to pull me off the bastard I was pummeling.
Everything about my life that all those other kids envied was all for show. I had the nice ride, the nice clothes, my own credit cards, all that shit so no one on the outside would look too closely. My old man couldn’t risk anyone seeing behind that perfectly crafted facade.
Being judged by someone who didn’t have a clue what the truth was had never bothered me before. But for some reason, knowing the girl with all that long, dark hair and those sweet, honey-colored eyes thought I was a piece of shit made my stomach twist violently. I didn’t know what it was about her that set me off, but from the moment I saw her standing inside my bedroom I knew I wanted her. It was a feeling I’d never experienced in my whole life. I’d had plenty of girls. Girls who got off on being with a bad boy, girls who thought they could “heal” me, girls who were after my family’s money. But I’d never wanted to make a single one of them mine in the way I wanted to make Shane.
Walking into my room, seeing her standing there, my gut reaction was to be pissed someone was in my personal space. Then I heard those words come out of her mouth, insulting me without even knowing me, and that pissed melted away, replaced with humor.
However, when she turned and looked at me everything changed. She was as bright as the sun. When those eyes hit me, they lit everything up, her glow cutting through the darkness and chasing away the shadows. And when she threw attitude, giving as good as she got, when she didn’t waver or seem impressed or intimidated by me, that need for her only grew.
Bittersweet (Redemption Book 3) Page 4
