Addicted to Love (Bayou Devils MC Book 2)

by A. M. Myers

  Anger sparks inside me and I turn away from the bench, scrubbing my hair furiously like I'll somehow be able to erase him from my mind. I wish I could. I spent too many years letting my past control me and I won't give the same power to a man who doesn't deserve me. Even when just thinking his name hurts so much it's hard to breathe, I’ll hang on to this anger and use it to move forward but it doesn't get to control me.

  Stepping out of the shower, I dry off before throwing my hair up in a towel and slipping my robe on as I stop in front of the mirror. My eyes still have some very dark circles underneath them that concealer will have to fix but other than that, I’m looking better. If only it was so easy to fix my heart. Sighing, I push off the counter and pad into the kitchen in search of a giant cup of coffee. I set my cup in the Keurig as it brews before turning and leaning back against the counter as I stare out the window. The dark gray clouds in the sky perfectly match my mood as rain streaks down the glass and thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s almost like the sky decided to pick up where I left off last night.

  Someone knocks on the door, startling me and I jump, pressing my hand over my heart as I glance over at it. There is no way in hell I’m answering that. I already have a pretty good idea who it is and if I see him, I’m liable to punch him in the face. On second thought, though, that might make me feel better.

  “Carly, I know you’re in there!” Chance yells through the door and I roll my eyes. Yeah, like that’s going to work. The Keurig dings and I flinch, wondering if he would be able to hear that through the door, before grabbing my cup and taking a tentative sip as he pounds on the door again. In any other apartment, I would be concerned that he was going to break it down but one of the features of this apartment was its reinforced doors – something my mother insisted on since I was a woman living on my own.

  “Please, Princess,” he says, softer this time and fire spreads through my chest as tears well up in my eyes. Hell, no. He doesn’t get to call me that anymore. Slamming my cup down on the counter, I march over to the door and unlock the deadbolt before yanking it open. The sight of him in front of me almost breaks me but I somehow manage to hold it together. Straightening my spine, I meet his gaze head on.

  “You do not get to call me that anymore,” I hiss, my voice dripping with venom that surprises even me a little. His mouth drops open before he snaps it shut again, unsure of what to say to me.

  “I’m coming in and we’re going to talk about this.”

  “Uh… no, we’re not,” I say, punctuated by a bitter laugh that grates on my ears. He takes a step in my direction and I pull the door toward me, ready to put it between us if he tries to barge his way in here like he would have every other time.

  “What happened the other night, Carly? You were ready to be with me and now, you can barely look at me.”

  I’m mildly shocked his wife hasn’t confronted him about this yet and I’m trying desperately to ignore the pain that sparks in my chest at how easily he can play this role. If I didn’t already know the truth, the sincerity in his eyes would have won me over.

  “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? To lie and play people like they’re your puppets.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Each time he speaks, my anger builds but lurking just behind that, is crushing heartache and I know I can only hold onto this façade for so long. “What happened, Chance, is I’m no longer interested in being your plaything.”

  “You have never been a plaything,” he growls, stepping toward me and I meet his gaze with narrowed eyes.

  “You take one step into this apartment and I will call the police. I do not want to see you again. I do not want to hear from you. We are done.” Slamming the door in his face, I flip the deadbolt and spin around, leaning back against it as I clamp my hand over my mouth and struggle to hold my tears at bay. Silence greets me, but I know he’s not gone yet. He’s not the kind of man that would give up so easily. Finally, he sighs.

  “This is far from over, sweetheart.”

  I listen as the sound of his boots echo down the hall before the first tear spills down my cheek. Sinking down to the floor, I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my head in my arms as the tears pour down my face and I’m right back to where I was last night. Hating Chance for making me fall in love with him when he could never truly be mine and hating myself for once again, choosing the wrong man.

  The thing about pain is it makes you look inward, face some truths about yourself that you’d been avoiding and Chance breaking my heart revealed some things I had been hiding from for a very long time. Deep down, under the tragedy of my past and the layer of protection I had surrounded myself with, is someone who truly does want everything Chance offered to me. He’s changed me and there is no way I could ever go back to sleeping around like I did before. Which, if I’m honest with myself, never really worked for me anyway.

  * * * *

  “Carly,” Ivy calls out, standing from her table near the back wall of the restaurant and waving at me. Offering her a smile, I weave through the tables and wrap my arm around her in a quick hug before slipping into my seat.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” our waitress says, materializing out of nowhere with a wide smile and a notepad in her hand. “What can I get started for y’all today?”

  Ivy orders her drink and meal before the waitress turns to me. I glance down at the menu that I haven’t even had a chance to open. I guess it’s a good thing we have the whole thing memorized.

  “I’ll get a BLT with fries and a sweet tea.”

  The waitress scribbles down our orders, flashing us another smile before she bustles back to the kitchen. I turn to Ivy, trying my best to maintain a happy demeanor so she won’t ask what’s wrong with me. It took twenty minutes and an ice pack on my face just to reduce the puffiness around my eyes from crying and if I let my mind wander to him, I’ll be right back in the same spot. It does occur to me though that the last time I was in this restaurant, I had just met him and in a way, it seems fitting I come here now that things are over. Although, I may never be able to walk in here without thinking of him or anywhere else, for that matter.

  “Wow, you know what I just realized?” I ask her and she shakes her head. “You got here early. It’s the end of days, isn’t it? Do I need to look outside for flying pigs?”

  “Ha ha, very funny,” she sneers, crinkling her nose at me and I laugh. “I forgot what a pain in the ass you are.”

  “See, that wouldn’t have happened if you had shown up to Sunday dinner at any point in the past month.”

  “It has not been a month,” she objects, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve only missed two.”

  The waitress stops by our table with our drinks and I smile up at her before turning my attention back to my sister. “And how many times in the last ten years have you missed dinner?”

  “Just those two.”

  I nod. “My point, exactly.”

  She sighs, rolling her eyes at me before meeting my stare. “Oh, whatever. It was just two dinners and I won’t be missing any more.”

  “Care to share what’s been keeping you away from Aunt Dottie’s cooking? Are you still mad at her?”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head.

  “Vi…”

  Shaking her head, she grabs her tea and takes a sip. “No, it’s really not that. Julian has just been super busy helping his dad with campaign stuff and he text me at the last minute to tell me he wasn’t going to make it.”

  “Then why didn’t you just come?”

  She lets out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, right. Like I could show up without Julian after everything with Dottie. Besides, maybe I was still a little mad at her.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep,” she says and something about the tone of her voice doesn’t sit right with me.

  “What’s with the radio silence then?”

  She fidgets in her seat, refusing to meet my gaze as she plays with her nails and I
arch a brow, continuing to watch her. God, she’s such a terrible liar. Once when we were kids, she broke a cup and all Dad had to do to break her was ask us who did it. She started crying and apologizing until Dad scooped her up in his arms and told her it was all right.

  “I’ve just been busy,” she says, still refusing to look at me.

  “With what?”

  She shrugs. “Uh… just stuff.”

  “Vi, do I have to remind you of the cup incident? You can’t lie to save your life so how about you just tell me what’s going on?”

  “Well,” she mutters, glancing up at me with a sigh. “There is something I need to tell you, but I’m worried about how you’re going to take it.”

  She nervously pulls down the sleeve of her sweater, distracting me, and I tilt my head to the side.

  “How in the hell are you wearing that? It’s like ninety degrees today.”

  Her shoulders rise in another shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I was just cold.”

  “Do you need to go to the doctor?” I ask, reaching across the table and pressing my fingers to her forehead. She brushes my hand away and shakes her head.

  “Stop it. I’m fine. I know you guys have been worried about me, but I promise I’m really okay.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender as I relax back into my chair. “Okay. What do you have to tell me then?”

  Ivy fidgets some more in her seat, playing with the hem of her sleeve.

  “Out with it, Sweetie,” I prompt, my own nerves amped up by hers. What on earth could she possibly have to tell me? Of course, with her tendency to over exaggerate, it could be the most mundane thing that she has to hype herself up to tell me.

  “Julian and I are engaged.”

  My mind is painfully blank and as I stare at her, she raises her left hand, flashing me the giant rock she somehow managed to hide up until this point. She watches me eagerly, waiting for my reply, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t think of anything to say. There is a part of me that can’t stop screaming Chance’s name right now, my chest aching fiercely while I battle to push those feelings down. Besides the fact that I’ve yet to meet this man, I have no reason to believe this is anything but happy news, but warning bells are sounding in my head.

  “Will you say something, please?” Ivy asks, her voice shaking and I open my mouth before snapping it shut again.

  “I’m really not sure what to say.”

  Tears well up in her eyes and I feel terrible for hurting her. That was never my intention but I’m having trouble ignoring the little voice in my head, telling me something isn’t adding up here.

  “Anything. I just want to know what you think. Please,” she pleads and my eyes burn with tears of my own.

  “I think I haven’t met him, so I can’t really tell you how I feel about this. Maybe it’s the best thing for you or maybe it’s not – I don’t know.”

  She blows out a breath as she stares up at the ceiling, trying to dry her tears. “I understand but can you, at least, believe me when I say I’ve never been happier? That I love him so much and I’m so excited to spend my life with him.”

  “I’m really trying, Vi.”

  “I know you haven’t gotten a chance to meet him, but I promise you that you’ll love him. I’m really happy, Car, please just trust that.”

  “Look, I’m not writing him off but I’m not welcoming him into the family either and I think that’s the best you can expect until I meet the man. This has all happened so fast and it seems weird to me that meeting your family isn’t important to him.”

  Shaking her head, she reaches across the table and lays her hand on mine. “No, it is really important to him. He’s just been so…”

  “Busy,” I say, cutting her off. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that. What I’m saying is that we make time for the things that are important to us, no matter how busy we are.”

  “It’s not like that, Car. I promise. This campaign stuff is just so much work. Hell, I barely see him right now.”

  Yeah, like that’s supposed to help convince me. I don’t know what it is yet, but something isn’t right here.

  “That doesn’t sound any better.”

  I start to pull my hand away, but she grips it tighter, refusing to let me go. “Please, just give him a chance. I’ll talk him into taking a night off this week and we can grab dinner with Aunt Dottie, too.”

  Glancing down at her hand, I’m about to respond when something just under her sleeve catches my eye. It’s a slight discoloration to her skin and when it clicks in my mind, I gasp, grabbing her arm, and yanking her sleeve back to reveal the bruise just above her wrist.

  “What the fuck is that?” I hiss, anger and this deep aching sorrow battling for space in my mind. She tries pulling her arm back, but I don’t let her.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Why don’t you tell me what it is and we’ll see if I’m right.”

  She shrugs, looking down at the table. “I was being clumsy and I slipped. Julian grabbed me, but he grabbed me a little too hard.”

  “Bull. Shit.”

  Her head whips up and she glares at me, ripping her arm out of my grasp. “Whether you believe it or not, that is what happened. I’ll text you about dinner.”

  Before I can say anything, she grabs her bag and pushes out of her chair, storming out of the restaurant without once looking back. When she steps outside, I lean back in my chair and try to fight back the tears. I know now. Something is seriously wrong here and the only thing stronger than my heartache over Chance is my concern for my baby sister.

  Chapter Twenty

  Carly

  “Dottie?” I call, stepping into her house with the smell of cinnamon rolls greeting me and I close my eyes, breathing it in for a moment as a feeling of calm washes over me. I remember when we were little and Aunt Dottie used to make us cinnamon rolls for our birthdays. It’s what I need after a hellacious few days.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” Dottie says, poking her head around the wall to the kitchen with a smile on her face. “What brings you by? And shouldn’t you be at work?”

  I nod. “Yeah, but I kind of needed a personal day.”

  With a frown on her face, she studies me for a moment before nodding to the kitchen table. “Have a seat, dear. I’ll get us some coffee and rolls.”

  As I sink into the chair and wait for her, I let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to diminish this headache. Although, if the three aspirin I took earlier didn’t help, I doubt anything will. The past two days have felt like weeks and I’m so incredibly lost. The bruise I saw on Ivy’s arm has been haunting me and I don’t know what to do to help her. There is a very large part of me that wants to rush in and drag her away from him kicking and screaming even when, rationally, I know it wouldn’t work for long. Before I could even relax, she would be back in his arms and I might just lose her forever.

  Even though worrying about my sister has taken up most of my time, thoughts of Chance have managed to sneak in a time or two. And each time, it feels just as fresh as it did when I walked out of that bathroom. Of course, it doesn’t help that he hasn’t stopped coming around. I don’t know how many more times I can listen to him say that he wants me and he’s not going anywhere before I explode. Honestly, I just don’t understand. He’s married – why on earth is he still doing this? It doesn’t make any sense at all and I’m questioning everything that happened. Not that I’ll ever get any answers because I’ve vowed to stay away from him. If the past few weeks are any indication, I have absolutely no willpower around the man.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” Dottie says, bustling into the dining room with a full tray in her hands. She sets it down between us and passes me a coffee and cinnamon roll before taking her own and dumping some cream and sugar in it. After setting my cinnamon roll down on the plate and adding a dash of each to my own cup, I stir my spoon through the tan liquid, lost in thought again. “So, what�
�s on your mind?”

  “I had lunch with Ivy on Sunday,” I whisper, glancing up at her as her eyes widen and she nods.

  “And? How is she?”

  “She seems okay…”

  Dottie places her hand over her heart and lets out a breath. “Well, that’s a relief.” Pausing to stare at me, she tilts her head to the side. “Isn’t it?”

  “She’s engaged.”

  “Oh,” she whispers, staring down at her coffee as she chews on her bottom lip. It’s something she only does when she’s really stressed and I haven’t even told her the worst part yet.

  “There’s more.”

  She nods, still not meeting my eyes. “Out with it, then.”

  “She…uh, she has a bruise on her wrist.”

  Dottie’s head whips up and the pain in her eyes makes tears well up in my own. “You think he’s hurting her?”

  “I… Yes. I asked her about it and she said she was being clumsy and he grabbed her when she fell but I just don’t believe that,” I admit and hatred burns in my gut as I think about someone hurting my baby sister. I set my cup down on the table and lean forward. “What can we do?”

  Dottie is quiet for a moment, staring down at her coffee as she absentmindedly stirs it, before letting out a sigh. “Years ago, I had this friend who met what we all thought was the most wonderful man, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that something was off. I suspected he was knocking her around and even though I had no proof, I just couldn’t let it go so I asked her about it. She straight up denied it and got mad at me for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. It tore our friendship apart and I didn’t see her for nearly a year when she showed up at my house in the middle of the night, six months pregnant, with a black eye and a broken arm. I had been right, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t ready to face the truth.”