“You remind me of him, you know?” All while I speak, Daniel stares at my lips. He doesn’t hide the fact in the least. I think he wants me to know. I swallow and his gaze moves to my throat, then he leans in just slightly before correcting himself. The hot air is tense and as he finally looks me in the eyes again, the noise of the bar disappears from the pure intensity of his stare.
“You do the same for me, I think.”
“You think?” I ask him to clarify.
“You bring back certain things,” he says icily, so cold it sends a chill down my spine.
My shoulders are tight as I straighten myself in the seat, again looking into the glass of beer that’s nearly gone as if it can save me. Or as if I can drown in it.
It’s only the sound of him standing up that makes me look back toward him. “Are you leaving?” I ask him like an idiot and then feel like it.
He only nods and I’m sure he’s going to walk off, but instead he steps closer to me. He shoves a piece of paper in front of me onto the bar and then grips the barstool I’m sitting on with both of his hands.
He’s so close I can feel his heat as he whispers to me, “I’ll see you soon, Addison.”
Chapter 8
Daniel
Five years ago
The wind howls as it whips past us. We’re all dressed in black suits, but the shoes we spent all last night shining are buried beneath the pure white snow. The ice melts and seeps between the seams, letting the freezing cold sink into what was once warm. It’s fitting as we stare at the upturned dirt in front of us.
We’re the last ones here. We stopped on our way back from the dinner since the sun has yet to set, and there’s still a bit of light left.
The sky beyond us is blurred and the air brutally cold, the kind that makes my lungs hurt each time I try to breathe.
One of my brothers cries. It’s a whimper at first but I don’t move to see who’s the weakest of us. My muscles coil at the thought, hating how I’ve judged. Hating how I view strength. I’m pathetic. I’m the weak one.
Jase, the farthest from me, sniffles as his shoulders crumple and then he covers his face.
He was the closest to Tyler but now he’s the baby, taking Tyler’s place. The air turns cruel, biting at the back of my neck with a harsh chill as his cries come to a halt. My throat’s tight as I try to swallow. It makes me bitter to be standing here, knowing I need to leave and can’t stay here. That I’m the one who gets to continue breathing. That fate chose to take one of the good ones, and leave the ruthless and depraved behind.
Five brothers are now only four.
Four of us stand over Tyler’s body. Six feet in the ground.
All of us will mourn him. The world is at a loss for not knowing him. I finally get the expression about how it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Tyler was good through and through. He would have lived his days making the world a better place. He’d try to start a conversation with anyone; just to get to know them, just to make them laugh if he could.
All four of us lined up and saying our final goodbyes will never be the same after losing our youngest brother.
But only one of us knows the truth.
Only one of us is guilty.
The worst part is when I leave. I’m the last of us to finally part from Tyler’s grave, but when I leave, my gaze stays rooted to where her car was. Where Addison had parked. My memories aren’t of my father crying helplessly against the brick wall of the church, refusing to go in when he couldn’t hide his pain. The images that flash before my eyes as my shoes crunch against the icy snow aren’t of all his friends and teachers and family who have come from states away to tell us how sorry they are and how much Tyler will be missed.
All I can think about is Addison. How she stood so quietly on the fringes of the crowd, her fingers intertwined, her eyes glossy. How even as the wind ripped her scarf from her shoulders, carrying it into the distance and leaving her shoulders bare, she didn’t move. She didn’t even shudder. She was already numb.
The picture of her standing there motionless, staring at the casket is what I think about as I leave my brother.
I didn’t know then how dangerous that was. Or maybe I did and I didn’t want to believe it. But Addison would haunt me long after that night, as do so many other things.
She’s only a girl. One small, weak girl.
Her red cheeks and nose and windblown hair made her look that much more tempting. Everything about her is ruined. At least she appeared to be that night. But I knew she had more left in her. More life and spirit. More emotion to give.
I may be cruel and unforgiving, but I’m right. I’m always right.
Chapter 9
Addison
The night Tyler died, I saw it all happen.
I was there and I heard the tires squeal.
At the memory, I can practically feel the cold raindrops from that night pelting my skin. I turn on the faucet to the hottest it can go and wait until steam fills the room. I step into the shower, ignoring how the sounds of water falling are so similar to the rain that night as I stood outside the corner store. He called my name. My eyes close and my throat feels tight as I hear Tyler’s voice.
The last thing he said was my name as he stepped into the street.
It takes a lot to leave someone because you fell in love with somebody else. Somebody who would never love you back.
It takes even more of your heart to witness the death of someone who truly deserved to live. More than I’ll ever deserve it.
And to know that they died because they were looking for you …
God and fate are not kind or just. They take without reason. And the world is at a loss for Tyler being taken from us.
I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving Tyler. I didn’t know he’d come looking for me. If I could take it back, I would.
The water hits my face and I pretend like the tears aren’t there. It’s easier to cry in the shower.
I was fine until I saw Daniel again. It took me years to feel just okay. That’s the part I can’t get over. Maybe this is what a relapse is? One moment and I’ve lost all the strength I’ve gained over the years. All of the acceptance that I can’t change what happened and that it’ll be okay. It’s all gone in an instant.
I lean my back against the cold tile wall and sink to the floor. The smooth granite feels hard against my back as I sit there, letting the water crash down on me as I remember that night over and over. Just a few moments in particular. The moment Tyler saw me, then the moment he spoke my name and moved toward me.
The moment I screamed at the sight of him stepping into the road.
The car was right there. There was no time.
It didn’t matter how I threw myself forward, racing toward him even as the car struck him.
I swear I acted as fast as I could. But it wasn’t good enough.
My head rests on my knees as my shoulders shake.
Life wasn’t supposed to be so cruel. Not to him.
“Deep breaths,” I tell myself. “One at a time,” I say, brushing at my eyes even though the water is still splashing down.
Standing up makes me feel weak. The water’s colder, but the air is still hot.
Just breathe.
As I open up the shower door to inhale some cool air, I hear something. My heart stops and my body freezes. The water’s still on but my eyes stare at the bathroom door.
The mirrors are fogged even though I left the door open slightly. A second passes and then another.
My body refuses to move even after I will myself to reach for the towel. My knuckles turn white and keep me where I am. I know I heard something. Something fell. Or something was pushed. Something beyond the door. Something. I don’t know what, but I heard something.
I force myself to take one step onto the bath mat, and then another onto the tile floor.
I keep moving. I take the towel in both hands and then wrap it a
round myself although I can’t take my eyes off the door.
Water drips down my back, but I don’t bother with drying my hair. I make myself open the door and it groans in protest as I do.
The second it’s open wide, I feel foolish.
It’s only a picture I’d put up with hanging tape strips. It’s fallen and the paint on the wall where it was hung, a Tiffany blue, is marred.
I should have used nails or screws to hang it.
Even as I pick up the picture and roll my eyes, my body is still tense; my heart still races. The frame is cracked and broken. When I place it onto the dresser, I catch a glimpse of the piece of paper Daniel gave me. It’s a ripped portion of something—maybe a bill, I’m not sure. But on it is his number. The number I texted so he would have mine and to ask when we could meet. The number that didn’t answer, even though the message was marked as read.
I leave the paper there with the broken frame and head back to the bathroom to finally turn off the water. But I stop just shy of entering.
Peeking at the door to my bedroom, a chill travels down my spine.
I don’t remember leaving it open.
Chapter 10
Daniel
I would say I don’t have time for this shit, but I do. I really do.
I would make time for it if I didn’t already have it in spades.
I’m cradling my chin while I drum the fingers of my other hand in a rhythmic pattern on the sleek mahogany tabletop. The soft sound doesn’t even reach my ears, mixing with the chatter and hum of small talk and the clinking of silverware in the restaurant.
The Madison Grille has gotten a facelift recently. It’s obvious. From the new wood beams that make the place smell like cedar, to the industrial lighting with exposed bulbs. I deliberately chose a place that wasn’t too expensive or elegant so this wouldn’t seem like a date. But it’s better than a bar. There’s privacy here that I’m eager to take advantage of. I waited to message her until only hours ago. Last night took a lot out of me, but once I decided, there was no turning back.
“Would you like anything while you wait?” The waiter already has his pad out and pen ready to go. There are a lot of things I’d like right now. Addison bent over the table, for one. Simply for inviting me back into her life. She may not know how much she taunted me, but she’s smart enough to know the attraction was there and still she teased me.
“A whiskey sour and two waters,” I tell him and he waits for more, but a tight smile sends him away.
Again my fingers drum as I think about each and every curve of the woman I’m waiting for.
Addison is all grown up.
And that look in her eyes is one I recognize. Desire. My blood feels hotter with every second I sit here thinking about what I wanted to do last night. And what I plan to do tonight.
I can imagine those pouty lips of hers wrapping around my cock and the sounds she’d make as I shoved my dick down her throat.
If nothing else, I can finally get a piece of what I wanted when I first laid eyes on her. Just the thought makes my dick harden and I stifle back a groan as the zipper of my jeans digs into me.
It took everything in me not to take her last night.
When she looked at me like she could see right through me.
When she told me to stop, as if she could command me.
When she spilled her little heart out as if I was the one meant for those words.
I’ll be damn sure to make the time for Addison. Finally having her is worth all the fucking time in the world.
Sheets of rain batter against the large front window of this place and crash noisily on the tin roof.
I hate the rain. I hate what it does to me. The memories it brings back.
Addison is out there in the rain right now. Feeling it beat against her skin. Listening to the familiar sound.
And the unwanted memories that come with it.
I should feel a good number of things with the memory of Tyler besetting me right now as I wait for Addison. Shame, maybe even disgust. Swallowing thickly, I replay the memories, but this time focus on her. How she looked at me and shied away. How she couldn’t talk to me while looking me in the eyes. How she blushed every time she caught me staring. Her reaction to me and only me was everything.
It was never about Tyler and I stayed away back then for him. It was always about Addison.
My thoughts are interrupted by the drinks I ordered being set on the table in front of me.
“Will you be dining tonight?” the waiter asks and I shake my head no and reply, “Just drinks.”
“Let me know if I can get you anything else.” With that he’s gone and I’m left sitting alone at the table in the back. Staring at the entrance and waiting.
The soft lighting is reflected in my watch face as I turn my wrist over, showing the time is nearly ten minutes past the hour. She’s late.
My eyes narrow as I look back toward the entrance, willing her to walk through the doors. There’s a mix of worry and fear that I’m vaguely aware of. Fate’s been a cruel bitch to me and I wouldn’t put it past her to take the one thing I’ve always wanted. The one person I’m so close to getting.
Before I can let the unwanted emotions get the best of me, the door opens and Addison steps inside, huddled under an umbrella that she’s quick to shake out over the mat and close. The hostess greets her as I sit paralyzed, watching Addison.
It’s still surreal to see her here. I don’t know how to react to her.
My fingers long to help her slip out of her jacket, but instead they grip onto the table.
I frown at the sweet smile she gives the hostess for helping her with her things. Addison hasn’t given me one. In fact, it falls as she’s directed toward me.
The happiness so evident only a second ago is gone as she walks over.
It makes my blood heat to a simmer but I stand anyway, pulling out the chair across from me for her to sit.
“Hi,” she offers politely and the scent of her shampoo wafts toward me.
I don’t trust myself to say anything, so I only offer her an inkling of a smile. I’m better than this. I know better too. “Thank you,” she says softly as I retake my seat.
“I didn’t know what you’d like to drink,” I tell her even though I know she’ll order a red wine. On the sweeter side.
“Oh, I’m fine with anything,” she says agreeably and just like that, the bits of irritation slowly ebb and start to fade. She offers me a hesitant smile as she adds, “I’m glad you texted me.”
Her smile broadens and she takes a sip of water before the waiter comes by again. And she orders cabernet. She’s a creature of habit, little Addison.
“You wanted to talk?” I sit back easier in my seat now that she’s here.
“I do, but I don’t know how.”
A genuine smile creeps onto my face. Little things like her innocent nature have always intrigued me. “Just say whatever you want, Addison.”
“Do you hate me?” she asks me quietly. The seriousness is unexpected and catches me off guard.
“No, I don’t hate you.” I hated that I couldn’t have her. But that was then.
“I feel like you should,” she tells me although she’s staring at her glass. She does that a lot. She looks down when she talks to me. I don’t like it. My chest feels tighter and the easiness of tonight and what I want from it tangle into a knot in my stomach. I reach for my drink, letting it burn on the way down.
The words to ease her are somewhere. I know they exist, but they fail me now because the truth that begs to come out is all I can focus on.
I’m saved by her glass of cabernet that she accepts from the waiter graciously.
“Tyler did mean a lot to me, you know?” she asks me as if my acceptance means everything. As if I couldn’t see it in her eyes back then. Every fucking time I saw them together it was obvious. He was all she had and I think she hated that fact, but loved him for simply being there for her.
“That was
never a question,” I tell her with a chill in my voice. One that I can’t control.
“I just feel like,” she pauses and swallows, then takes a sip of wine. With her nervous fidgeting, she’s clearly uncomfortable and it’s pissing me off. “I’m just afraid of what you and your brothers think. Your dad, too.”
“My father died two years ago,” I tell her and ignore the twinge of guilt running through me plus the pain of the memory. The knot seems to tie tighter.
I went home for the first time in years only to watch him being put in the ground next to my mother, just twenty plots down from Tyler’s grave. And I haven’t been back since. It’s funny how guilt spreads like that. How it only gets worse, not better.
“Oh my God,” Addison gasps and reaches her small hand out on the table for mine. “I’m so sorry.” One thing I’ve always admired about Addison is how easy it is to read her. How genuine she is. How honest. Even if the things she was thinking were less than appealing.
“My father liked you, so he told Tyler that you would come back.” I don’t know why I tell her that. The memory doesn’t sit well with me and the conversation isn’t going where I’d like it to. Uncomfortable is an emotion I don’t often experience. I suppose it makes sense that I am now though. Yet again … that’s Addison’s doing. But I allow it. It would be easy to get up and leave, to not have to deal with this conversation. But having Addison tonight is worth it.
Barely catching a glimpse of the starched white shirt of the waiter, I hold up my hand just in time to stop him.
“Yes?” he asks and I order two rounds of black rose shots, which are a mix of vodka and tequila and the restaurant’s drink of choice. Plus another whiskey sour. I greatly underestimated this conversation and the need for alcohol to go along with it.
“Anything else?” the waiter asks and Addison pipes up. With her hands folded in her lap, she orders the bruschetta.
It’s only once the waiter’s left that she leans forward, tucking her hair behind her ear and says, “I didn’t eat much today.”
Summer Heat: A Steamy Romance Boxed Set Page 106
