Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  I tried to figure out what I’d done to make her change her mind, and then realized it didn’t matter. This is why I wanted nothing to do with this arrangement. Hillary was a brief part of my life. Yes, she was hurting. I feared that hurt was the only thing that brought us together. She needed something other than a broken man stuck in his house rotting. I should be glad she’d already moved on and left me behind.

  “But you’re not,” I mumbled, wanting one second of her light. Just one second, and then she could leave again. It was so dark in my house. Dark everywhere I looked. I was so lost in it I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone anymore until someone shoved my shoulder. My head snapped up to find Bach in my living room. “What?” I cleared my throat when my voice broke, and stared up at the bastard.

  “Have you moved from this spot at all?”

  My silence answered for me. “Where’s Aubrey?”

  “Nena’s watching her. It’s Saturday. Harley’s downstairs. Are you going to make us go get a hotel?”

  Harley? I ran a hand down my face. I hadn’t thought about Harley in days. “Why didn’t you bring my kid?” I didn’t say no because the idea of being alone for another second scared me. I was starting to fade away past the point of return.

  “I tried,” he promised, eyes grave. “Whitney’s a …” He shook his head and thought better of it. “She’s not budging. You have to do something about this, D. You can’t sit in this house all day and do nothing while your daughter grows up without you. It’s like you already gave up. You’re not going to fight for that kid? Because I’d fight for her. I’d never give up.”

  I looked away from the vehemence in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fight for her,” I admitted.

  There were feet on the stairs and then Harley was in my house. I didn’t look up. What was the point?

  She wasn’t mine anymore.

  “I can think of a million ways. One? You get your ass up. Yes, shit’s hard right now. I understand that, bro. I do. But you have to get up. You can’t keep holding yourself down. Trust me.” His voice broke, and he started pacing. “Just one drink?” he begged.

  “No,” Harley whispered.

  The sound of her pain bothered me. “There’s no alcohol left. I drank it all.” That was a lie, but the moment I told it Harley’s shoulders relax.

  He started to breathe harder. Harley stepped close to him and held his face between her hands. He opened his eyes and latched on to hers. Whispered words fell from her lips, making him nod, pulling him from the edge, keeping him standing when a minute before all he’d wanted to do was fall.

  I was struck so hard at that moment it was also hard to breathe. I wanted that again. I wanted someone to give me every reason in the world to get up, to stop falling, to show me standing wasn’t as scary as I’ve always feared.

  But on the edge of all of that, I also felt a small, miniscule, rage-inducing sense of relief that my bastard ex-best friend had that now. He never did. Harley led him over to the couch and pushed him down until he was sitting, dressed in a pair of tight skinny jeans and a creamy V-neck.

  Before she straightened, she met my eyes briefly. She gave me a small unsure smile. Sexy ass. I couldn’t help but give her one back. Damn woman could make a pussy out of anyone. She took a relieved breath and then sat on the coffee table.

  “Tell me exactly what you’re running from.” She held his hands. “I know it isn’t me.”

  He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. The intimacy coming from them made me want to leave. Rather, I was stuck here. Watching them love each other.

  “I can’t stop thinking about her. You saw her. She’s …” He took a deep pain-filled breath. “She’s that way because of me.”

  “Oh, Bach. No, she isn’t.”

  “Don’t.” He leaned back. “We both know that’s bullshit. Why are you with me? I bring nothing to this relationship but this sorry piece of shit.” He tugged at his shirt and tried to rise, but she wouldn’t let his hands go. “Let me go.”

  “No.” She crawled onto his lap and held his face again. “I’ll never let you go.”

  I didn’t even mind their position. All I could think about was Hillary. What was happening to her? I cleared my throat, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but unable to help myself. Hillary had no business being around me, Bach just said everything I felt, but I couldn’t stop picturing her eyes, the way the pain altered the jade in them until they were slightly darker than they were before. “What’s wrong with Hillary?”

  Harley looked over at me and then at Bach. “Can you go get my things? And I’m kind of hungry.”

  He brightened at the prospect of being a pussy. “You want something to eat? Apple pie perhaps?” He grinned.

  She rolled her eyes. “Always with the apple pie. I feel like I’m getting fat living at Mom’s.” She pinched her thigh.

  Bach snorted. “You’re so full of shit, babe.” He rose with her on his lap, setting her down and kissing her softly. “You want something to eat too, D?”

  “I thought you were moving out?” Why was he still here pretending this friendship wasn’t shattered?

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He slapped her ass and then left, his feet pounding after him.

  Once we were alone, she sat as far away from me as possible. It hurt, but I was more focused on Hillary.

  “Where’s she?”

  She turned to me, sitting cross-legged. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

  “Fine.” This conversation had to happen at some point.

  “I love Bach.”

  “Clearly.”

  “I loved you.”

  “I know. I loved you too.”

  “I know you did,” she admitted, surprising me. “I know you loved me, Dylan. But that love was a lie. You lied to me. You lied to Whitney. To Bach. To yourself. When you left me, I fell in love. Hard. And I don’t plan on ever losing this love. I’m not sorry I love Bach. He isn’t sorry he loves me. Dylan. I can’t hold on to you anymore.”

  “I can’t let you go, Harley. We were supposed to be together.”

  “But we aren’t,” she said simply. “We aren’t together. I think you’re so caught up in what you wanted; you can’t even see what’s really happening. I mean look at you.” She waved a hand at me. “Where’s the handsome, smart, charismatic guy I fell in love with?”

  “That man was fake. You know that. I was never him. I was just being him so you’d want him.”

  “You and Bach think you’re such bad people. But Bach is one of the most honest and loyal men I have ever met. You gave everything up for your daughter. You are not a bad person. You lied. I forgive you. I forgive you for lying, Dylan. Now you have to forgive yourself.”

  I didn’t want to hear this. “If I told you the truth would you have stayed with me? If you knew I was in the army when we met and I had a kid, would you have even given me a chance?”

  I had to know. If it was my fault, then it was my fault. But in my head, it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. She did this to us. Maybe she was right. I couldn’t let what I thought I had go because without it there was nothing.

  “Yes.” Her expression didn’t waver. Her eyes showed nothing but the truth.

  I believed her because she loved Bach now, and he and I weren’t all that different when you got to our bones. Pain invaded my guts. It was my fault. I did this to us. I lied to her, and my truths ruined us. I put my face in my hands and groaned. “Harley. I’m sorry for lying.”

  “Forgive yourself. You’re going to be stuck here until you let what we had go.”

  “It’s not just you,” I growled bitterly, letting the truth slip through.

  “I know it isn’t. It’s not having your daughter. It’s what happened to you overseas. That was hard for you, wasn’t it? I know it was hard. My dad suffered through it every time he came back home. He had PTSD too.” Tears fell down her face.

  They fell down mine too. “I don’t have PTSD.”

  She crawled closer t
o me. “When’s the last time you slept?”

  “Don’t.”

  She came closer anyway, touching my face. “When’s the last time you slept without remembering? The last time you felt guilty for surviving? When was the last time you didn’t think about what could have happened?”

  Like the pussy I was, I pulled her against me and sobbed into her hair. “Harley. It won’t go away. The nightmares and the gunshots. There’s blood everywhere.”

  She wrapped her arms around me so tightly I felt safe letting it go. “I get it, Dylan. You look just like my Dad. Lost, drifting, stuck in the fear. I couldn’t help him, but I can help you. Let me help. I still care about you. I want to be your friend. Can I be your friend again?”

  “But I still love you.”

  “Maybe being friends will help that go away. I miss you,” she whispered. “The way we used to laugh, the way you’d do the most awkward things at the worst times—I miss my friend, Dylan.”

  I smiled through my tears. “No one could make me laugh the way you did. Dweeb,” I tacked on because we both knew she was one. A sexy dweeb that I missed too damn much but had to let go.

  I had to let this woman go.

  She held me tighter. “Are you going to let me help you? I’m going to school for this. I lived it with my dad. It’s the real reason why you’re not trying. You think it’s me, but it isn’t me all me. It’s this.” She touched my bare chest, right over my heart. “It’s what you went through.”

  “Why do you want to help me? I’ve been a dick to you.”

  “Because the girl in me who loved you can’t stand to watch you suffer. That’s why I haven’t … you know … tried to push this. Plus, you’re right; you’re a dick. And Bach has so much on his plate I’m getting scared.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes with her shirt. “I’m worried he’s going to give up. Nightmares every night. He’s been practically living with Hillary and Patty. And Hillary. Poor baby. And you. And work. And me. And Aubrey. And, and,” she managed, blubbering. “If he slips up what’s going to happen to us?”

  I reached over and wiped her tears with my thumbs, cupping her face. I wanted to kiss her, but that wasn’t an option anymore. “Bach isn’t going to slip. Trust me. He loves you. What man would be dumb enough to slip with you?” When I winked, she rolled her eyes, but she was listening. “Who’s Patty?”

  “Hill’s mom.”

  “She’s cool with having Bach around?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. They have a special relationship.” She shook her head, as if dispelling a memory.

  “Breathe,” I ordered when she started to panic. “Things are rough right now for all of us, huh?” She nodded miserably. “Tell me about Hillary.”

  “If you looked in the mirror you’d be the same.”

  That hit me so hard I felt my stomach turn. Was Hillary that lost? Of course she was. She’d said it, I’d witnessed it. Of course she was drifting. “Is Zane in jail?”

  She met my eyes. “For what? He didn’t actually do anything.”

  Her words settled squarely in my guts. “You’re kidding me.”

  “No. They have a protective order against him, and they’re pursuing charges. The DA is trying to summon witnesses, but Jona has criminal charges in the past, which make him a terrible witness, and Justine never actually saw Zane in the room. He took off out of the window. The room was empty when she and Jona busted in. There’s no way of knowing he put the drugs in her bottle. No one will come forward. All they’ll charge him for, if they get him at all, is for hitting her. They can’t prove Zane put the drugs in her bottle. Basically, it’s her word against his. Who would believe her when they can believe the star quarterback?”

  Blistering rage settled over me. “So he took an angel, broke her wings, and gets to walk away to do it again?” Fury filled me. On the edge of that was this overwhelming desire to see her, to prove to her that she wasn’t broken. She’d fallen, but she could get up again.

  She could fly.

  Harley nodded, eyes shifting strangely. “Dylan?”

  “What?” I asked warily.

  “Why did she come over here last week?”

  “She had no other option. She’s mad at her mom. Bach’s on her mom’s side. I was the only person she had.”

  “She has me. Bach’s there no matter what. Her mom is on her side. I think she came over here for a different reason.”

  “What?” I frowned. What was she getting at?

  “I think she came over here for you.” She gave me a pointed look.

  “Your point?”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if we all went out tonight. We can go to dinner. Go to the movies or something. It’ll be like a double date.”

  My eyes flashed. “Date?”

  “Yes. A date.” Again, that look. “Isn’t Hillary attractive, Dylan?”

  “Harley.”

  “Yes or no?”

  I forgot how annoyingly persistent she could be. “Hillary’s not attractive.” Her face fell. “She’s perfect.” The breath left my lungs, and she grinned knowingly. “She’s fucking perfect, all right?”

  “Don’t you want to go on a date with her?”

  “I don’t date.”

  “You dated me.”

  “Yeah, well, you were special.”

  Her face softened. “She’s special too. Otherwise, you’d never have let her into your house. I bet she’d love to go on a date with you.”

  “Bullshit. Look at me.” I stared down at myself. I was a hairy, smelly, sweaty, bleeding, pathetic mess. “I’m hideous.”

  “You’re gorgeous.”

  “She’s eighteen.”

  “So what. You’re only twenty-two. Happy birthday, by the way.” Her smile was saccharine.

  Dweeb. “It’s not like that. It won’t or can’t be like that. She had no one. I was here. That’s all that was.”

  “So like movies and dinner? Or maybe something else. We can go to Houston and go to a concert. Maybe even stop at my house and put Aubrey to bed before we leave …”

  My head snapped up. “Aubrey?”

  “Mhm. She’s been drawing you pictures. She hangs it on Daddy’s wall. Pictures of you with Band-Aids on your leg, pictures of you kissing her, pictures of you playing peek-a-boo. She misses you, Dylan. Don’t you want to go on a date with Hillary and put your daughter to sleep?”

  “Stop.” My chest was aching.

  “We were watching Despicable Me the other day and she wanted to know where her daddy was. Of course she kept running around making fart noises when she was done, but she asked, and that’s all that matters. How much longer does she have to go without you?”

  “Harley!” I snapped, but she’s in love with Bach, and my snap was probably her idea of playful banter.

  My ex-girlfriend looked different too, more confident. Sexy because she was. She was an equal opponent, not the loser in whatever game they played. She wasn’t the woman I left. This was a woman who knew who she was and what she was doing. She also apparently had motives here, and I’d played right into her hand.

  “Yes?” she asked sweetly.

  “Let’s get some things straight. One? We’re not good just because I played into your hand. You still betrayed me.” I gave her a hard look. “Two? I don’t date. I don’t want to date Hillary. I want to help her, but I can’t even do that, so it’s best she and I part ways before I can make it worse. So don’t get any more damn ideas. And last? I’ll go to your place because I want my kid. That’s it.”

  She thought about it, chewing on her bottom lip, eyes contemplative. “One? I didn’t betray you. You betrayed me. Let it go. Two? I think Hillary’s perfect for you. So you will go on a date tonight, or the last option won’t happen. How’s that?”

  “Why are you trying to push us together? Don’t you care about her? Why would you put her in this world?”

  “Because she came to this house for you. For you,” she stressed. “Out of all the people in the worl
d she chose Dylan Meyer. Why?”

  What was her point here? I stared into her eyes. “She won’t make your absence easier if that’s what you’re doing.”

  “I’m not,” she assured me softly. “I’m just trying to help. Let me help you.”

  I kept my mouth shut, effectively slamming the door on this conversation. She sighed and sat back, grabbing the remote from where I’d left it on the couch.

  As she scrolled through the recorded shows her frown deepened. “Dylan?”

  “Hmm?” It was my turn to grin.

  “You deleted my shows?”

  “Yup.”

  Her rage unleashed on me. “Call me a whore. Fine. Say I betrayed you. Okay. But delete my shows? That’s too low for words. I had full seasons on here!”

  “I’m sorry for calling you that. You are not a whore, Harley.” I summoned the courage. “Please forgive me?”

  The rage in her light brown eyes faded. “Of course, I forgive you. You have to forgive yourself now.” She put on a chick-flick, grinned like a bad girl, and then sat back, giggling at the TV like nothing mattered.

  I peeked at her occasionally. Accepting that Harley was gone was half the battle. Accepting I did this to myself was another thing completely. Why would I care about this man, this bastard?

  I free fell into this because I lied to get out. And it wasn’t as if there were truths waiting to help me.

  I’d have to find a way, even though I’d been searching for one my entire life.

  ***

  Hillary

  It was so quiet it was deafening.

  My pulse hammered. My thoughts screamed. And my memories writhed, taunting, twisting around my cerebral cortex like a parasite sucking the life out of me, making it so everything I thought was about the one thing I didn’t want to think.

  The inside of the apartment was quiet, but my insides were unbearably loud. Quietness was louder than noise. It was consuming, making my ears bleed with what I couldn’t hear.

  I rolled over in bed and stared at the wall. Mom had left for work a couple hours ago, and despite my promise, I hadn’t showered, changed, or gotten out of bed. Truthfully? I didn’t even mind. I smelled? So. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days? And? Get out of bed? For what? I drifted between sleep and nightmares, between the smell of vodka and the sound of my screams. Mom had stayed home for as long as she could, but the bills were piling up and I was getting to the point where I’d rather speak to the walls. They didn’t talk back. They didn’t know what happened.