“What’s wrong?” he calls after me. “Forget about that bitch. It happens to the best of us when we’ve had too much coke.”
Without responding, I slam my bedroom door shut and lean against it. My arse hits the ground when I slide down the painted wood. Burying my face in my arms, I concentrate on slowing my breathing and focus on trying to remember the events of last night.
Slowly but surely, they come back to me.
Warning Jep away from Amy.
Dancing behind Gabbi and wishing it was Amy.
Seeing Amy come running back into the club and watching her face fill with horror when she saw me with Gabbi.
Staying with Gabbi instead of following Amy outside because she was the safer option.
Getting caught in the melee after Hooligan won his fight.
Letting my anger get the best of me when I saw the instant attraction between my uncle and Gabbi.
Storming back upstairs and grabbing the first chick who looked anything like Amy.
Snorting coke, popping E, taking the random chick home with me.
Feeling my dick soften when it hit me that no matter how much I pretended she was never going to be Amy.
My room whirls in circles around my head when I open my eyes. Everything that happened points back to one thing... to one person.
Amy.
Amy.
Amy.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
How can some chick I’ve laid eyes on twice cause this much carnage in my life?
Stumbling to my feet, I head into my bathroom and open my medicine cabinet. Apart from packet of Panadol, a can of deodorant, and a couple loose cotton buds, it’s empty. The shelves are bare of the bottles of pills that regulate my life. I got rid of everything when I decided to train under Steve.
That’s when it hits me.
I’m an officially-diagnosed fuck up.
A well-labelled, currently unmedicated abnormality.
Seems my grasp on reality was medically-induced.
Yesterday, I sold my lifeline to sign the deal of a lifetime.
Today, I’d give anything to go back and change my decision.
FOURTEEN
Amy
Turns out that my decision to ambush Gabbi at home wasn’t my finest idea. With bags under her eyes and a wariness to her that sets my spidey senses on high alert, I’m beginning to second guess my decision to push her toward Nate in the first place.
Maybe he doesn’t have as many layers as I thought?
Maybe he’s another hump ‘em and dump ‘em merchant like the rest of his age group.
The voice in my head—the one I woke up with this morning that sounds suspiciously like Jon at his bossiest—warns me about jumping to conclusions. If Gabbi wasn’t already staring at me from across the table with confusion in her eyes, I’d be liable to tell my brand-new companion where to stick it.
Sometime between leaving Grant and arriving home, I started healing and I woke up with a plan. Only problem? I need to make sure I’m not breaking girl code first.
“I want all the deets. Glorious, glorious details.” Painting my best gossipy girlfriend expression on my face, I hit Gabbi with a bunch of questions. “Was the sex hot? Is he hung? I bet you he’s hung.”
While important, none of them are the main reason I came here. To stop myself from rambling, I take a sip of my coffee and try to control my tongue long enough for Gabbi to answer.
She shrugs. “Nothing happened. Nate’s okay, but I’m not sleeping with him.”
I clap my hands together and burst into genuine laughter. It feels good. Like a weight has been lifted. My reaction to her confession is authentic—just not for the reasons Gabbi thinks.
For once, the universe is in my corner.
My plan might just work.
“Nate’s more than okay,” I quip, laying the groundwork for my actual reason for lobbing on her doorstep at nine on a Saturday morning. “He’s divine. Please tell me, you at least fucked the hottie with the eyebrow ring?”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that she’s not interested in Nate. That doesn’t mean I want to see Gabbi left out in the cold. She deserves someone who accepts her for herself... and I’d seen the flirtatious looks she’d exchanged with Nate’s hot friend.
Gabbi grins, then shakes her head. “Nope. I didn’t fuck anyone last night.”
I know her well enough to know when she’s hiding something. Judging by the way she refuses to meet my inquiring eyes; she’s sitting on something huge.
“There’s a story. I can tell.” Taking another sip of my coffee, I wait for a response. When nothing is forthcoming, I throw out some bait. There’s only one thing that would make my best friend clam up like this. “The ice queen met someone?”
Without saying a word, she gives me an answer when she takes her cup and wanders over to the sink. I let her go, staying silent while she rinses the coffee mug and stashes it in the dishwasher.
“You did?” I follow her to the sink. “Tell me what happened. Did he not meet your standards? Does he have a girlfriend?”
Leaning back against the counter with a grimace on her pretty face, Gabbi makes a confession that I wasn’t expecting. “I don’t know if he has a girlfriend. All I know is, I didn’t meet his standards.”
“The man’s an idiot then,” I declare, immediately. “Plenty more fish in the sea.”
Wordlessly, I trail behind her when she walks back to the dining table. I’d bet my last dollar that there’d more to this than she’s letting on.
Sure, enough the silence I let drag on gets to her and she opens up.
“I was having fun with Nate,” Gabbi muses. My heart jumps into my throat at her mention of him and I brace myself for bad news. “Him and Jep were looking out for me and the fights were epic. I was in my element, ya know?”
“Mmmm hmmm,” I reply without actually saying anything. I don’t want to interrupt her flow.
“Then Nate’s uncle came out and it felt like the world stopped. He was all I could see. It was as if I could see inside his soul and he could see inside my head, and we matched. I’m fucked up and he’s fucked up, except we were two broken pieces that fit together.”
Her explanation is perfect. She’s describing the way I felt with Jon... and the reaction I had to Nate.
Screwing up my nose, I mentally tell the voice in my head to butt out. I don’t need it’s input into things it couldn’t possibly understand.
“I felt electricity—some sort of spark, anyhow—that kind of connected us.” I concentrate on what Gabbi’s telling me and try to ignore the way Jon’s voice reminds me of the burn I felt when I touched Nate yesterday. “And I know he felt it too.”
When she trails off and her cheeks redden, I reach across the table and pat her hand.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
Gabbi snorts. “Yeah, I thought so too until he dismissed me like I was trash in the next instant.”
“Huh?” I tilt my head with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“The way he looked at me made me feel dirty,” she explains “I’ve never been ashamed of how many men I’ve slept with before or the way I dress but he made me feel like a slut with one look.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve slept with, what? Ten, eleven men?”
“Nine.” Gabbi interjects with a rueful smile. She embarrassed and I wish I knew where this Hooligan lived so I could track him down and tell him how big of an arsehole he is for making her second guess herself. “And two chicks. So yeah, eleven.”
With a chuckle, I set her straight. “The chicks don’t count. That’s not sex, that’s experimentation. And honestly, that’s fuck-all in the scheme of things. So, who cares what some guy thinks?”
As we discuss how she can approach this mess with Hooligan, I feel the residual guilt I had at setting her up with Nate begin to dissipate. I haven’t seen Gabbi this excited about something other than her little brother in years and I decide on the spot that
I’ll do anything I can to make sure the fire he’s lit inside her burns as bright as it can.
Glancing at the wall, I’m surprised to see how late it’s become.
“Maxie,” I call toward the playroom. “It’s time to go.”
My son comes wandering out of the playroom with Gabbi’s little brother hot on his heels. I pull my friend in for a hug and she concedes after the barest of struggles.
I’d call that progress.
“Make sure you speak to Nate about meeting with Hooligan. Doesn’t matter if you like him or not, this could be your ticket to easy street. I’ve seen you in action, girl. You’ll kick some serious ass.”
As much as I hate pulling rank on her, I know her well enough to know that the second I leave she’s going to push the idea we came up with out of her mind and continue down the same well-worn path that’s kept her stuck in this awkward holding pattern she lives in for too long.
For the second time today, Gabbi surprises me by conceding without an argument.
“I agree. It’s the perfect solution. And it’ll keep me out of trouble.”
My heart is light and my mood is high as I strap Max into his seat in my car. We have a birthday party for one of his pre-school friends to attend and then the weekend is ours. After an emotional night where I thought all was lost, I’m pretty stoked with how today has panned out.
Gabbi is going to pursue Hooligan.
And my visit with her has proven to me that I can greenlight the plan that hit me in the middle of last night.
My husband is my gone. I’ve forced myself to come to terms with that. He was my fairy-tale. My Knight-in-shining armour. My one shot at happiness that circumstances tore from me.
I’ve had the grand love affair—I’ve lived it and I’ve lost it—and I have the scars to remind me lightening never strikes twice. No one should be forced to live with the risk of loss a second time.
Which is what makes the proposal I’m going to offer Nate so perfect.
Jon is my past.
I don’t need a man in my future.
Nate can be my present.
Literally and figuratively, if he chooses.
With a smile on my face, I drive away from Gabbi’s. For once, I’m looking forward to going back to work next week because I’m certain there’s no way he’ll say no to my offer.
After all, what red-blooded man would?
Isn’t friends with benefits—a no-strings attached sexual relationship—the lifestyle this Tinder generation craves?
FIFTEEN
Nate
“Don’t you have work in,” Jep stops talking long enough to look at the time on his phone. “Like an hour ago?”
I’ve had a headache for the past two days and the last thing I need is more of Jep’s complaining. He complained all last night about Gabbi kicking his arse when I took her to try out at Black Hearts MMA. Then he started again this morning when he found out through Taz that Hooligan is actually going to follow through with his side of the bargain to train her.
Starting tomorrow.
If I didn’t have splitting head, I’d be outside waiting for pigs to fly after the abrupt about face from my uncle over his longstanding rule. Instead I’m stuck trying my hardest to ignore my annoying housemate and his never-ending whining.
I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret.
Keeping my head down, I try to turn the door knob on my bedroom door to shut it behind me. My hands are too sweaty to get a decent grip and my hands end up slipping free. Rage catches fire within my gut and churns into an out-of-control inferno within seconds. Before I realise what I’m doing, I’ve lifted my foot and kicked a hole in the door.
Once the door is knocked free of its hinges, I turn my anger on the next thing that catches my eye. Our seventy-five-inch television. Jep sees my focus change and dashes in front of the expensive electronic.
“Woah,” he says, holding out his hands. “Don’t even think about it.”
The waves of fury continue to flood my head. They knock out all rational thought. My head feels like a rip tide. The undercurrent pulls me further into the deep end while on the surface I continue swimming parallel in the hope that I’ll eventually find myself free of its soul-sucking surge.
“What the fuck’s up with you lately?” Jep asks. He moves closer to me, but still keeps his body between me and the TV. “Ever since that chick, you’ve been like a bear with a sore head.”
“She’s not just a chick,” I yell at him.
Who the fuck does he think he is? He doesn’t even know Amy.
Confusion drains the colour from his face. He frowns and closes the distance between us. I stiffen when he lays his hands on my shoulders and searches my face with his worried gaze.
“All right, then. Do you have her number?”
“What? No...”
With a strong hand on my shoulder, Jep steers me to the couch. He forces me to sit, then he perches on the cushioned arm next to me. After flicking through his phone for a few seconds, he stops and smiles at me.
“I’ve got Lucy’s number,” he crows. Triumph radiates from him. He thinks he’s helping. I can hardly bear the noise he’s making so I dig my fingernails into my palms and hope to hell he’ll get to the point soon. “She’s friends with her. I can ring and get you her number.”
Exhaling loudly through my nose, I flop back in the seat and fling my forearm across my eyes.
“Who’s Lucy?”
Jep snorts. “She’s Gwen’s best friend. The chick who was here that morning when she stormed out on you.”
The ire that had dulled when he’d distracted me with what I thought was an offer to find Amy’s number returns with more force than ever. Pushing to my feet, I hit his shoulder with my hip as I stalk past him.
“Who gives a fuck about Gwen?” I shout just before I slam the front door shut behind me. “She’s a fucking lying bitch.”
Straddling my Harley, I hit the ignition. When I kick it into gear, my helmet falls onto the concrete driveway and bounces onto the grass verge. Jep races out of the front door and tries to wave me down as I ride off, but I pay him no mind as I ride out of our yard.
“Your helmet,” he screams after me. The roar of my Harley’s engine eats his words and I sneer at him. “Fuck Nate. Stop. You need your helmet.”
After a few minutes of the wind rushing over my face and tangling hair, the meaning behind Jep’s worry hits me. I slow down, weaving through the traffic until I can pull down a side street and return home. When I turn back into our street, he’s still out the front of our house.
I pretend I can’t hear him when he ends his call and approaches me after I’ve cut the engine and dismounted my bike
“What the fuck was that?”
“Nothing,” I mumble. Scooping up my helmet, I jam it on my head and tighten the straps before I jog back inside and grab my back pack. Jep follows me the entire time, trailing me like a vengeful ghost, but he doesn’t speak again. “Catch you in the morning.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Jep tells me in a hollow voice. “But you need to get your head sorted. You scared the shit out of me—I was about to call Hooligan like Taz suggested. If you pull something like that again, I won’t hesitate to let him know.”
The way he lords Hooligan over my head is enough to set me off again. Thankfully, I have just enough sense to tamp down on my rage and offer him a small smile.
“Look, I’m fine,” I promise in the lightest tone I can muster. “Just a bit stressed with the new job.”
“Fair enough.” I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t really believe me. Not that he’ll do anything about it. The best thing about Jep is his dislike for pushing people to open up. He’s a closed book, so he lets others hold onto their secrets as well. “Just cool it with the crazy, dude. We can’t afford to rebuild this house.”
Retaking my seat on my Harley, I hold my fist out to him. He bumps his against mine.
“I’ll pay for the door.”
Jep nods. I give him a small grin. He smiles back at me. My thumb hovers over the ignition button and the erratic rhythm of my pulse begins to return to normal as I begin to believe that I’ve fooled him. My wishful thinking dies in the next instant.
“Get back on your meds, Nate,” Jep directs in a voice that tells me he’ll knock my head off my shoulders if I argue. “I won’t tell Hooligan or Steve, but don’t try me any further. You’re my brother. I’ll protect you from anything—even your fucking self if I have to.”
A tic develops in my left eyelid. My foot shakes where it rests on the clutch peg. Every muscle in my body trembles; flexes and releases.
“I’m taking my meds.”
Jep sighs. “Jesus, Nate. You should know better than to bullshit a bullshitter. You’ve got one week to even back out or I’m going to Hooligan.”
I hit the ignition button and ride away without giving him an answer.
We’ve reached what is called a stalemate.
He’s laid his cards on the table and the next move is on me.
Only one question remains... am I going to fold or call his bluff?
SIXTEEN
Amy
I’ve been on pins and needles since I began my shift at three this afternoon. Every time the door between my office area and the main gym floor has opened, I’ve sat up straight and smiled, hoping it was Nate. So far, it’s been everyone but the person I’ve wanted and almost all of them have commented on my unusually smiley demeanour.
The bell tinkles again and I plaster a smile on my face.
“Get me Nate’s number,” Steve bellows as he stalks through the door. My grin dies a quick death and I slump back in my seat. “He’s over an hour late.”
Crap. Steve isn’t the type of boss who gets angry over nothing. At the moment, he’d have steam billowing from his ears if he was a cartoon character. He picks up a magazine from the coffee table in the waiting area and pitches it at the wall. I suck in a shocked breath and hold it in my lungs while I wait for the next explosion.
Conflict (Black Hearts MMA, #2) Page 8
