“Did you find Bernie?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder and back to him. He studied her as if he could read every thought running through her mind.
“Oh, damn, I thought she was smarter than that.”
“Obviously not.”
* * * *
Zeke groaned and rolled his eyes. Before he could react, he spotted two men walking through his house.
Zeke went cold inside.
Fuck.
Zeke met them in the doorway to the deck. “What the fuck are you two doing here?”
“We heard you were having a party,” Tanner said easily.
“And you weren’t invited,” Zeke pointed out. “Are you stalking me?”
His two older brothers exchanged glances.
“Not exactly,” Isaac said. “Decker invited us.”
“To my party?”
Neither said anything, and things became crystal clear. And to think, he was almost warming up to them.
“Is that all I am to you two bastards? A photo op? A way to assuage your guilty conscience and fulfill your obligations to One Big Seattle Family campaign?”
“No, of course not. You’re our brother. Believe it or not, we love you.” Isaac’s eyes bored into Zeke’s.
“Love? You love me?” All the suppressed emotions from the past several years bubbled inside him like a tumultuous cauldron of scalding-hot water.
Loved him? How the fuck could they lie like that? They didn’t love him. No one loved him, least of all these motherfuckers, and he liked it that way. As if they knew what love was any more than he did.
Tanner nodded while watching him warily. “We do love you, little brother.”
Zeke snapped, just as he had that night after his sister died, and he’d drunk too much, putting some poor guy in the hospital for accidentally spilling a beer on him. Zeke’s blood boiled; his temper exploded. A red haze of anger clouded his vision. He drove his fist into Isaac’s jaw, catching him off guard. Isaac staggered backward a few steps. Taking advantage of his brother’s off-balance position, Zeke jumped on him and pummeled his face. Isaac held up his arms to ward off the blows. Zeke punched harder, unable to think beyond beating the bastard to a bloody pulp.
Never once did Isaac hit him back.
Several hands pulled him off Isaac and held him until his senses slowly returned to him. He glanced around at the shocked faces staring back at him. Blood trickled from Isaac’s split lip. Their eyes met. Instead of hatred and anger, all he saw reflected there was pity and regret. And something else. The same something he saw in Tanner’s eyes.
Zeke’s gaze fell on Paisley. She stood off to one side, her fist crammed in her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stared at him as if he were a stranger.
It had happened. His worst fear. His biggest nightmare. The one thing he’d dreaded for most of his life.
He’d become his father’s son.
He’d tried to kill his brother for committing the ultimate sin—loving Zeke.
Chapter 20—Strike Two
An abused child grows up to be an abuser. Don’t forget that, boy. You think you’re better than me? Well, you’re not. You think you won’t do the things I did to my kids and wife? You’re wrong. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree. You have half my DNA. You are me. Go ahead. Hit me. You want to. Do it. Give in to your anger and hatred. You’re my son. You can’t help it. It’s a part of you.
Zeke drew back his fist. His gaze laser-focused on the contemptuous face of his father, the man he hated more than anyone and anything in the world.
He imagined the satisfying crunch of knuckles on bone as he slammed his fist into the old man’s jaw, imagined the exhilarating combination of pain and relief as he gave the asshole a dose of what he’d been enduring all these years.
Holding his father by the collar, he threw back his arm to deliver a knockout punch. The split second before his fist connected, the man’s face dissolved, and Paisley’s face materialized. Her mouth fell open in shock. Her eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief, horror, and betrayal. He couldn’t stop the momentum, couldn’t blot out the sickening crunch or the cry of pain.
* * * *
Zeke shot up in bed, drenched in sweat and his heart slamming in his chest. He fisted the sheets. Gasping for air, he fought for each breath as if he were sinking into the deep abyss of a stormy ocean and couldn’t battle his way to the surface. His lungs screamed for oxygen. His eyes burned. His body shook.
“Zeke! Zeke! Zeke!” He heard shouting from far away, and hands on his shoulders were doing the shaking, not his body by its own volition. He couldn’t see through the fog or form a coherent thought. The voice nagged at him, not giving up, pulling him back from the brink of wherever he’d gone.
He blinked several times as reality flooded back. The bad dream faded but never quite went away. The incident hours ago flashed through his mind. He slumped against the headboard, feeling spent and broken. More broken than ever before.
Paisley stared at him with concern he didn’t deserve. Didn’t she understand? Eventually he’d hurt her, just as his father had his mother.
She pulled him into her arms. He didn’t have the strength to resist. Over her shoulder he saw the three kids standing in the doorway, eyes wide with concern. Brayden held his sisters’ hands.
He would hurt them, too. He knew he would. He couldn’t bear the thought. Damaging those sweet, beautiful, trusting faces would destroy him.
“Go back to bed. It’s okay. I had a nightmare,” Zeke assured them. His voice sounded drained and gravelly.
Only it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay. He wasn’t normal. He had an illness for which there was no cure. Brayden hesitated, then pulled on the girls’ hands. The door shut behind them.
Paisley said nothing, merely held him close. She ran her hands over his back and planted little kisses on his mouth and cheeks. She didn’t speak until his heart rate had slowed and his breathing returned to normal.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, pulling back from him far enough to see his face.
He shook his head. He never wanted to talk about it. Ever.
“Zeke, it might help.”
He shook his head again.
“Have you been having these nightmares for very long?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he took her mouth in a hungry yet oddly gentle kiss, wanting to prove to himself that he could control some measure of his emotions. She didn’t push. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her.
“Condom?” he gasped.
She opened the nightstand and had a condom on his cock in seconds.
He entered her slow and easy, taking his time, needing to savor every sweet inch of her because he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on to her, knowing the monster who lurked underneath his smile.
They made love slow and easy. His orgasm wiped everything else from his brain, except one thing. He knew in that moment, he’d allowed the unthinkable to happen.
He loved her.
And because he loved her he would have to let her go.
Just not tonight and not tomorrow.
But soon.
Yes, soon, he would save her the only way he knew how.
By making the ultimate sacrifice and saying good-bye.
Because he fucking loved her.
* * * *
Zeke left on a road trip at the end of the week. He refused to talk about the nightmare in the same manner he refused to talk about his brothers and father. Frustrated at not being able to get past those barriers one more time, Paisley engaged in shopping therapy with the man in question’s credit card.
Tiff showed up to babysit, and Paisley joined Avery, Emma, and Bella, who invited herself, as she was never one to miss a shopping trip. Bernie, too, was a last-minute add-on. Paisley had called her after Zeke left to make sure everything was okay. Bernie deflected her questions about Gavin but accepted her invitation to go sh
opping. If anyone needed fashion assistance, it was Bernie. Paisley hooked her up with Bella, who loved fashion challenges, and off they went.
A few hours later, Avery, Emma, and Paisley sat in a small bistro sipping wine and waiting for Bella and Bernie. Mounds of shopping bags were stacked on empty chairs. They’d avoided the elephant in the room all afternoon, but the subject of the estranged Wolfe brothers and the fight was bound to come up.
“How’s Isaac?” Paisley asked.
“He’s fine, but he’s worried about his little brother.” Avery winked at her. “How’s Zeke?”
“I don’t know. He’s so closed off. Do Isaac or Tanner have nightmares? Really bad nightmares waking them up in a cold sweat?”
Avery took a sip of her wine, studying Paisley over the rim of her stemless wineglass. She said nothing. Emma fiddled with her napkin, folding it and unfolding it.
“Is there something you’re afraid to tell me?”
Emma met her gaze finally with a steely gaze so unlike her and more like a lioness protecting her family. “Tanner did, but he’s been getting counseling. Now they’re few and far between.”
“Do you know why?”
Emma and Avery just stared at her with matching unreadable expressions.
“Zeke paints this wonderful picture of his childhood, yet he hates his brothers, and never sees his father. Stuff isn’t adding up. I don’t think their childhood was all that perfect.”
Emma shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.
“Their childhood was wrought with emotional and physical abuse.” Avery’s gaze hardened. She appeared to be struggling to control her anger.
“Our Wolfe brothers are damaged souls,” Emma added. “I think Zeke is the most damaged of all.”
“What kinds of things happened to them?” Paisley needed to know.
Avery shook her head. “Zeke hasn’t told you anything?”
“Nothing.”
“They lived in hell—” Avery started to say.
“You need to ask Zeke. It’s not our place to tell you.” Emma interrupted her sister before she could say any more.
“But he won’t talk about it.” Paisley opened her mouth to beg when Bella and Bernie joined them. Bernie was loaded down with packages and a new hairstyle. Paisley almost didn’t recognize her. The girls cooed over her while Bella puffed up like a proud mentor who’d given her protégé wings. Shortly after, the three sisters excused themselves, anxious to return to their men, leaving Bernie and Paisley alone.
“Do you think he’ll like my new look?” Bernie asked, ducking her head and not meeting Paisley’s gaze.
“Who?” Paisley should’ve guessed who, but Zeke’s childhood was still on her mind.
“Gavin.” Bernie toyed with her straw.
“You’re seeing him again?” Paisley forced the surprise and shock from her voice. She sincerely hoped Zeke didn’t hear of this.
“He wants to meet up on the Tuesday after he gets back.”
“Oh, really? Where’s he taking you? Someplace nice where you can wear your new clothes, I hope.”
“It’s not like that.” Bernie stared at her lap again. “He’s coming to my house.”
“You’re cooking dinner?”
“Uh, no, he said he’d be over around midnight or one. They have a game.”
Paisley frowned. The bastard was using Bernie for sex. He didn’t even have the decency to take her to dinner. “Games are over by ten or ten thirty.”
“I know,” Bernie said miserably.
“He’s using you, Bernie.” Paisley softened her tone, as if that would soften the blow.
“I know.” Bernie lifted her head. Defiance replaced uncertainty. “But I don’t care. I’ve done the right thing all my life. This time I want to…to play it dangerous.”
Paisley nodded slowly. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I appreciate that. I probably will, but I’ll have memories to cherish for a lifetime. You have to cut me some slack for making memories of the time I slept with a hot baseball player.”
Paisley sighed and reached across the table and squeezed Bernie’s hand. They were more alike than Bernie realized. Only Paisley hoped she’d have more than memories with Zeke.
She hoped she’d have a lifetime.
* * * *
Zeke spotted Sully sitting by himself in the hotel bar after the fifth game of a brutal ten-day road trip without one day off. They’d won four out of five so far, so the team was in high spirits. Sully played exceptionally well, which had Zeke hoping he’d be in a better-than-normal mood.
He started to walk on by and ignore the dickhead, but something stopped him.
“Hey, Sully,” Zeke said, as he slid into the bench seat across from his teammate. Several tables away, Fernando entertained a group of the guys with one of his outrageous stories about baseball in Mexico. Their laughter would mask any words spoken between the two enemies.
Sully grunted but didn’t look up. Zeke took his neutral response as a good sign. At least Sully wasn’t flipping him off or shouting at him, but then, Sully wasn’t a shouter; he was more of a sullen brooder.
“No hot date tonight?”
Sully shrugged a shoulder and concentrated on peeling the label off his beer bottle. Women flocked to Sully, taken in by his good looks, numerous tattoos, and bad-boy I-don’t-give-a-shit vibe. Usually he had anywhere from one to three women every night of their road trips. Sully played hard and partied harder. He liked his women fast and loose with very little scruples, or so Zeke understood.
Anger curled in Zeke’s gut at how callously Sully had used Bernie just to piss off Zeke. He pushed that detail from his mind. Bernie had been a willing participant, even if she didn’t understand the game Sully played. What they had going was none of his business.
“Look, why don’t we try to get along?” Zeke kept it short and simple.
Sully lifted his head and met Zeke’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes, his mouth set in an uncompromising line, and his jaw tight. “Whatever.”
Zeke should’ve left well enough alone and walked away. He didn’t. “I don’t want our dislike for each other to affect the team.”
“Fuck the team.” Sully watched him like a hawk watches a mouse. Zeke could almost see the wheels turning as the bastard calculated his next move. “She was a surprisingly hot lay.” A slow, arrogant smile spread across Sully’s face.
Zeke really wanted to kill him. He fisted his hands under the table and forced a neutral smile.
Obviously not getting the reaction he wanted, Sully didn’t stop there. “I’m hooking up with her when we get back.”
“That’s your business—and hers.” He couldn’t save every nice girl from guys like Sully. Who was to say he wasn’t worse than Sully? At least Sully made his intentions clear from the beginning, while Zeke muddied his with not-so-fake proposals and getting in deeper than the superficial, all the while knowing he’d eventually end it. Zeke was all kinds of an asshole.
“Later.” Zeke stood. He strode to the table full of teammates and pulled up a chair. He cast one last glance in Sully’s direction. Sully looked away quickly but not soon enough. Zeke blinked several times as he tried to process what he’d seen reflected in Sully’s expression—sadness, regret, longing, and most of all, a bone-deep loneliness.
Zeke recognized every emotion written on Sully’s face. He used to look at those same emotions every morning in the mirror.
Until Paisley.
Chapter 21—Strike Two
Zeke hated weddings. They were boring, sappy, and pure bullshit as far as he was concerned. Most of his teammates spent tens of thousands on such crap only to get divorced a few years later or, even worse, stay together and wish they were divorced.
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why his oldest brother had agreed to a huge wedding. What little he knew of Avery, a huge affair like this wouldn’t be her style, either. This would be more like something Tanner would do, but Tanne
r had opted for a small, private island wedding.
Go figure. Obviously, he didn’t know his brothers anymore.
Thank God he’d managed to get out of the rehearsal dinner because of a baseball game. He didn’t think he could stomach two nights in row with his brothers. It was bad enough playing nice for several hours tonight. All eyes were on the brothers, as Mrs. Decker and ladies had started rolling out the promo this week for her One Big Seattle Family campaign. Last night they’d showcased it on the big screen at the baseball field just before the first pitch. Zeke had almost lost his lunch when he’d seen photos of each Wolfe brother in his uniform as the cornerstone of the campaign. He got that it was a big deal for three brothers to be playing three different pro sports in the same city, but he wished he weren’t part of it.
He reached up and tugged on his bow tie. He hated tuxes as much as he hated weddings. Handing his keys to the valet, he suppressed his negative emotions, as always, and concentrated on the good, little things in his life, just as his counselor had taught him. Sometimes, as pigheaded as he was, he did listen.
Paisley bent down to straighten Brayden’s bow tie on his little tux, and Zeke’s gaze settled on her ass. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
She turned to him; a joyful smile lit up her face. Her brown eyes sparkled. She loved this shit, and for that reason alone, he’d play along and not ruin her day. Her conservative blue dress was sexier than any low-cut outfit he’d ever seen. It hugged her curves and nice breasts. The skirt ended about mid-thigh. He wondered what was under that skirt. A G-string? A pair of sexy lace underwear? Or even better, absolutely nothing?
His dick wholeheartedly approved of this current line of thinking and hardened on command. Zeke forced his gaze away from Paisley. The last thing he needed was a perpetual hard-on here of all places.
Bottom of the Ninth: Seattle Skookums Baseball (Game On in Seattle Book 6) Page 22
