The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  “What else am I supposed to think? You won’t fucking tell me anything!”

  “Umm, guys…can we leave and talk about this elsewhere?” Jessie begs softly.

  I turn and look down at her harshly and back up at Jordan. “When you put that wedding band on her finger and she fucks another guy, then you can judge me. Until then, go fuck yourself, little brother.”

  I shove him—hard. He stumbles into the table behind him and a couple of glasses full of beer tumble over. Jessie yells for Callie and grabs Jordan harshly by the arm, holding him back from going after me, because I can tell by the rage in his eyes he wants to slug me now as badly as I want to slug him.

  Callie is there suddenly—right in front of my face on her tiptoes so she can come close to making eye contact. She grabs my shoulders and starts pushing me backward.

  “Outside. Now!” she barks in my face. I could easily stand still—I’m way stronger than she is, but I also know Callie will never give up. She’d knee me in the balls and drag me out by my hair if she had to, so I turn and storm for the exit.

  Chapter 18

  Callie

  I’m so upset by what just happened in there that I’m literally shaking. I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat and I can’t take a deep breath. I have never seen them go after each other like that. Never.

  I have been witness to a lot of Garrison brother fights. They constantly tease each other and call each other names and push each other’s buttons. There have been a few times when lines were crossed and someone told someone else to fuck off and meant it. Jordan was the king of hurling sticks at his brothers in anger on the backyard rink. He’d also once thrown a lamp at Cole in the living room when Cole was picking on him about something and didn’t realize how sensitive Jordy was. And then there was the time that Devin totally schooled Cole on the rink and scored after sending Cole to his ass in a heap. Cole had promptly gotten up, skated over and punched Devin in the face. Cole was eleven and Devin was fifteen. That was the only time I’d heard of them getting violent with each other.

  But tonight…if Jessie and I hadn’t stepped in, the two of them would have probably fought until the death. And that totally terrified me. Jessie, Rose and I didn’t have a lot of things growing up—like parents or a strong biological family—but we did have patience, love and respect for each other. I know my sisters would risk their lives for me and my happiness and I would do the same for them, without question. I know that Cole would do that for any one of his brothers, and Luc—the honorary Garrison brother—would do it for them too, but I always question whether Jordan and Devin would do it for each other. They are just so…intimidated by each other.

  “You are out of control,” I tell Devin, fighting to keep my tone hard and even so he doesn’t know how rattled I am.

  “Who the fuck does he think he is, accusing me of being the one to give up on my marriage?” he barks at me in his own defense.

  “Well, maybe if you weren’t too fucking proud to tell him what happened and let him see you’re fucking human, then maybe he wouldn’t make assumptions!”

  Seb and Alex Larue come out into the parking lot. They see us—Devin leaning up against the side of the building and me pacing furiously in front of him—and they both stop dead in their tracks.

  Seb is the first one to step forward, which is very brave and makes me like him, unfortunately. “Callie, are you okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Devin answers angrily.

  I give him a death stare and turn and walk over to Seb. When I get there, he reaches out and takes my hand in his gently. Damn him, why does he have to be so likable? I may not be able to just fuck him and walk away now, which means I won’t let myself fuck him at all.

  “I’m fine,” I assure him with a small smile.

  His light blue eyes narrow with concern and he takes his free hand and pushes my hair back from my face. “You’re shaking, ma belle.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” I argue and glance back at Devin, who is staring a hole into the pavement at his feet. His hands are still balled into fists by his sides. “I just need to make sure Devin is okay.”

  He looks confused now. “I thought you were Garrison-free.”

  I sigh. “I thought I was, too.”

  Jordan and Jessie emerge from the bar. I pull away from Seb and walk back over to stand in front of Devin, blocking his path to his brother. Jessie and I lock eyes. I can tell she told her fiancé the gory details I told her at the arena and I don’t blame her in the least. I am done waiting for Devin to do the right thing.

  Jordan takes a couple steps toward us but stops a few feet away. Jessie is beside him; her eyes never leave me. I guess I look as shaken up as I feel. Alex and Seb disappear down the street, probably realizing that this is a family matter. Jordan shoves his hands into his pockets.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Dev,” he says in a quiet voice. “I honestly don’t give a fuck if you stay married to Ashleigh or not. I just want to see you out of this place you’re in—this dark, shitty place.”

  Devin says nothing. He doesn’t lift his gaze. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was dead. Maybe he kind of is on the inside. That revelation makes my heart ache. I reach out and take his hand in mine, prying his fingers out of the fist they’re balled up in and lacing them with mine. He doesn’t pull away.

  “If you need anything, if Conner needs anything, whatever…just call me, okay?” Jordan tells him. “I’m sorry.”

  Jordan turns and walks back toward the bar. Jessie watches him disappear back inside but doesn’t follow. She walks over and stands in front of Devin and waits patiently until he finally lifts his head and looks at her.

  “He loves you so much,” Jessie tells him in an even, matter-of-fact voice. “I do too. Never forget that.”

  She reaches up and hugs him. He doesn’t hug her back but I can see the anger melt from his face. Now he simply looks defeated.

  “When you’re ready to get out of your own way and let us in, we’ll be here,” she says as she kisses his cheek and walks off.

  We both watch her go back into the bar. Once we’re alone in the parking lot again, he pushes off the wall and starts to storm down the street. I run after him.

  “I need to get the hell out of here,” he says in a strained whisper.

  “Fine,” I reply and follow him toward the sidewalk.

  He turns to me with dark, hollow eyes and all I want to do is kiss that sad, empty look off his face. It’s such an overwhelming urge that I have to bite my bottom lip and push my hands into my jean pockets to keep them from grabbing his face. Vulnerability in a man has never been attractive to me before. But with Devin it’s so raw and charged with testosterone that I can feel my panties getting wet. “You should go get Sebastian and bring him home if you want. Do what you need to do.”

  “If only it were that simple,” I reply ruefully, but I don’t know if he hears me. He’s halfway down the street already.

  I head back into the bar. The atmosphere is still tense. I walk over to Jordan, who is standing by the pool table finishing the game I started with Seb, and I hug him and kiss his cheek.

  “Okay, now I know the world is coming to an end,” he jokes, but it’s strained.

  “Thank you for not being a total infant out there and just letting him be one instead,” I tell him as I let go of his broad shoulders. Jessie walks over and hugs me around the shoulders from behind.

  “The boys are off to Milwaukee in the morning,” she says about the Winterhawks. “My flight back to Seattle isn’t until four in the afternoon. Let’s do brunch.”

  “Deal. I’ll pick you up at noon,” I tell her and kiss her cheek. “I’m going to go home.”

  “Check on Devin?” Jordan asks hopefully. I nod. “Can you keep me posted on things? Text me updates for the next few weeks? You know he probably won’t be talking to me for a while.”

  “Yeah. Totally. I promise.”

  Jessie hugs me and I give
Jordan a playful shove, then I call a cab on my cell.

  Chapter 19

  Devin

  I couldn’t go home. I knew Callie would show up there sooner rather than later and I don’t want to talk to her—or anyone—about what just happened. I really am not in the mood for talking. I am in the mood for taking my frustrations out in a different way. I walk around in the cold, with no destination in mind, until I find myself in front of my local go-to bar, the same bar where I ran into Donahue a while ago. Back then I was trying desperately to hold on to my marriage. Now I know better.

  I head inside, order a scotch and nurse it as I scan the crowd. I’m there about an hour when I see her. The girl from the last time I was here. I never did get her name. I don’t care if I get it now either. I watch her as she dances on the tiny dance floor with two other girls. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings and a cherry-red top that her cleavage is spilling out of. She’s teetering on a pair of four-inch red leather pumps. Those shoes are the only things I will let her keep on tonight, I decide.

  As I walk toward her, a part of me fills with dread because part of me doesn’t want to do this. Part of me wants to go home and let Callie hold my hand again. But wanting someone’s hand to hold—someone to count on—is what had made me want to marry Ashleigh. So I let the irrational, angry and sexually frustrated part take over. The part of me that wants to live in a drunken world of base pleasure and emotionless sex. The part of me that would rather die than fall in love with someone again.

  She looks up as she swings her hips provocatively and sees me coming. It takes her a second, but her heavily made-up eyes flare in recognition. She smiles and waves. I walk over to her and wrap an arm tightly around her waist and instantly match the rhythm of her hips. Our groins are pressed up against each other and I’m already hard. I was hard before I saw her. This isn’t about her.

  “Remember me?”

  “How could I forget?” she asks.

  “Want to come home with me?”

  “I thought you were married,” she whispers hesitantly.

  “Do you want to come home with me?” I repeat and let my lips graze her neck, before moving up and nipping her earlobe lightly.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 20

  Callie

  I must have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home and the sounds of the TV must have muffled his arrival. But nothing could muffle the high-pitched squeal coming from his bedroom. I sit bolt upright on the couch and stare into the hallway. I can see part of the stairs and the front hall. Devin’s shoes are there and there is a tacky fake Coach purse beside them.

  He did it again.

  I had been hoping that, even though he didn’t give in to his family’s attempts at getting him to open up, it had at least made some kind of deep impact. That Devin would start to do a little self-reflection and stop lashing out—with his words or his dick—but apparently I was wrong.

  He hadn’t left the bar tonight to absorb everything that had happened and get a grip. He left so he could find himself a warm body to bury his feelings and his cock inside, once again. And stupid me had come home—and left that sexy, French, walking orgasm inducer Seb—to be with him. I’m suddenly consumed by anger. I jump off the couch and climb the stairs two at a time.

  When I get to his bedroom door, I don’t even knock. I just fling it open so hard it hits the wall. Some completely skanked-up bottle blonde is on her back, lying sideways across Devin’s California king. Her leggings are halfway down her thighs. Devin is leaning over her, shirtless and wearing only his boxer briefs.

  Her eyes get huge at the sight of me. Devin jumps up and spins around to face me. He looks embarrassed and furious. “Callie!”

  I ignore him and point at her. “You. Get out.”

  “What?!” she squeaks, horrified.

  “Get out. Go home,” I command and point to the open door. “You’re not fucking him tonight. Or ever. Go home.”

  “Callie, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he wants to know.

  “Are you the wife?” the bottle blonde asks, terrified.

  I glare at her and figure what the hell. “Yeah. I’m the wife. Now stop fucking my husband or I’ll kill you. Deal?”

  I say it with absolutely no emotion—like I am reciting lunch specials at a diner. It sounds ridiculous, but it does the trick. She scampers off the bed and starts pulling up her leggings and charging down the stairs at the same time. I hang my head over the railing and watch her grab her bag and disappear out the front door.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he slurs furiously. He’s clearly had too much—way too much—to drink.

  There is actually an open bottle of Crown Royal on the bedside table. I shake my head. Classy.

  “I decided your rule is a good rule,” I tell him as I try to look intimidating, my hands on my hips as I stand in front of him in my hot pink pajama shorts and white tank top. “No random hookups in this house.”

  “I told you you could bring Seb home,” he yells. “And who I bring home is none of your fucking business!”

  I shake my head and step into him. We’re maybe a foot apart and I poke my finger into his chest. “Yeah, I’m pretty much done with letting you figure this shit out on your own. You’re making a bigger mess of your life than it already is.”

  He pushes past me and storms into the master bath. I follow. I don’t even give a fuck if he’s going to take a piss, he is not getting out of this conversation.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he bellows and turns on me. His normally caramel-colored eyes are as dark as coal. I feel a little ripple of fear but I swallow it down. I know he would never physically hurt me.

  “You’re done with the revenge fucking phase of this mess, do you hear me, Devin Garrison?” I shout and push past him and open the shower door. “Now it’s time to start acting like a grown-up and figuring your shit out.”

  “So she’s allowed to fuck whoever she wants but I can’t?” Devin demands.

  I turn on the cold water in the shower and flip the lever so it’s coming out the rain head. I hesitate and also turn on the warm water. Yes, I want to shock him, but I don’t want to kill him.

  “This isn’t about what Ashleigh’s doing. It’s about what you’re doing to yourself,” I tell him, trying not to scream but, man, I want to. “These randoms are not helping anything. So next time you want to fuck something…”

  I grab his arm and yank him. He’s so drunk it’s easy. He’s not resisting so, although it takes all my strength, I can push him into the giant marble shower stall. He almost slips and, as his back hits the far wall and the lukewarm water pours down on top of him, he yelps.

  “Take a cold shower.” I finish my sentence, raising my voice for emphasis.

  “You bitch,” he hollers and then lunges for me.

  I wasn’t expecting that at all and I have no time to react. He yanks me into the shower stall with him. The water splashes down on me and my whole body goes completely rigid. My eyes snap shut to block out the water, and a furious, shocked scream escapes my lips. I can feel his hands wrapped around my biceps. He’s holding me right up against him and he has no intention of letting go. I struggle but it’s useless.

  My eyes fly open and I smack at his bare chest. But when I see the look in his eyes, I stop fighting. Gone is the anger and rage. His eyes are caramel again and his brow is slightly raised. His mouth is gaping slightly, his tongue on the edge of his bottom lip as his gaze slides over my body.

  I glance down. I’m soaking wet. My little shorts are stuck to my skin and sagging slightly, exposing my lower abdomen. My white tank top is clinging to my chest and stomach and is completely see-through. I can’t help but notice the same effect has happened to his white boxer briefs. I can make out every angle of his hardening cock as easily as he can make out the curve of my breasts and the dark circle of my nipples.

  His eyes finally land on my face. I open my mouth to speak but no word
s come. He tugs on my arms again; my body jolts forward and his lips crash down on mine.

  My body reacts before my mind does. My mouth opens instantly, and as our tongues meet, my body softens in his arms and I push myself against him. He moves and one hand goes into my wet hair as the other one grabs my ass. I reach between us and cup his dick, giving it a firm squeeze. My breath leaves my lungs with a whoosh. Holy fuck, I realize I have wanted to touch it since I saw him naked that day I woke him up. The thought is completely overwhelming both in how much I mean it and in how surprised I am by it.

  His hands move and he runs them over my wet tank top, cupping my breasts and rolling my nipples between his fingers through the soaked fabric, turning them hard in seconds. His lips move to my neck and he sucks—hard.

  I yank his underwear down and push my crotch into his exposed erection. If it weren’t for the pajama shorts, I would be fucking him right now. Standing in this shower, tepid warm water coating us…no condom in sight. Thank God for pajamas.

  He reaches for the front of my bottoms, clearly not feeling the same appreciation for clothing that I am, but I shove his hands away and drop to my knees. Without even the slightest thought or word, I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and take him between my lips.

  Chapter 21

  Devin

  Her mouth is hot. Blazing hot. I shudder and moan, the sounds loud and guttural. I’ve lost complete control. Callie owns me right now and I don’t even care.

  She slides almost all the way down my cock, her tongue pushing hard against the underside as she slides almost all the way off it before rolling her tongue around the tip like it’s a lollypop. She repeats the process, and the third time her free hand cups my balls firmly and she takes me so deep into her mouth that my tip taps the back of her throat. She fights a gag but keeps going, picking up speed.