After The Break

by Andrea Joan

  “Okay,” she answers simply but she still seems hesitant to finish her thought. “You never did answer my question on the plane, by the way.”

  “Oh yeah? And what question would that be?”

  “Your pet name when you were boxing. You told me you would tell me on the plane and you never did.”

  “Jesus. I told you it’s not called a pet name, it’s a nickname. A ring name.”

  “Whatever you want to call it, you had one, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was it?”

  I think about drawing out her torture after that little pet name comment she made, but I owe her one after the way I’d just treated her, and I’m enjoying the fact that she seems to be warming back up to me, even going so far as to creep one of her hands up under my shirt where it now rests on my stomach.

  “It was Lethal Liam O’Connor.”

  “How did you come by that name? Is it because of your lethally charming personality?” She looks up at me with that mocking little smirk that makes me want to spank the sarcasm right out of her.

  “No, smartass, it was because I was lethal in the ring. I could take my opponents out quickly, typically with just one good hit. Never even saw a 12th round.”

  “How many matches did you fight in?”

  “Thirty-two before I went pro. Then four after that.”

  “And you knocked all of them out before the last round?”

  “Every match.”

  “How’d you manage that?” she asks, her brow furrowing in the cutest way possible.

  Dropping my head to the back of the couch, I moan dramatically as if her words hurt, which they kind of do. How could she question my skills? “Sky, you wound me with your lack of confidence in my abilities.”

  “I’m sure your ego can take the hit. I don’t really know anything about boxing, but it just seems statistically with that many fights you should have at least seen the second round at some point. I mean, were you really that good?”

  “My dad trained me to be a fucking champ because he was a fucking champ, so yes, I am that good, but if I’m being honest I also had something none of the fighters had and I learned how to use it to my advantage.”

  “Oh, so you had a secret weapon,” she says excitedly, flipping over so she’s lying completely on top of me. I scoot my back down a little further on the couch so I can lay with her more comfortably.

  “Something like that. I have an eidetic memory.”

  “Like a photographic memory?”

  “Yeah. Although I’m surprised you know what that means.” Damn. I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t know the term so I could screw with her a little more.

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I was in a movie once that dealt a little with the subject. You know some doctors claim that it doesn’t even exist. That it’s a myth and some people just have a more detailed recall than others.”

  “Well, some doctors are clearly fucking idiots.” I tuck Sky’s hair behind her ears and wait for her to hit me with more questions.

  “I don’t understand though. How does having a photographic memory help you box, Lethal Liam?”

  “Well, Sexy Skylar, I would watch tapes of my opponents boxing. I was able to commit their strategies to memory pretty quickly, their weaknesses, their tactics. I was able to predict their moves in the ring just by their body language. A slight jerk of a shoulder or shift in their stance, and I knew exactly what they would do. I would wait for the opening then swing, and I knew just where to hit to take them down quickly. For example, you hit a guy hard enough in the kidney and you can drop him quick. Lethal hands, baby.” I wink at her as she rolls her eyes then turns her attention back to the movie.

  “Liam?”

  “Yeah, Sky?”

  “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. You can tell me anything, I promise.”

  I blow out a breath and reach behind me to grab the blanket draped over the back of the couch, then throw it over us both.

  “I know.”

  The simplicity of my reassurance means more to me than I’m sure she even realizes. I reach for the remote, turning the volume up on the movie, determined to drown out the awkward silence that now fills the room. It’s probably not awkward to her, but I’m not used to this kind of sharing. I would rather just go back to moments ago where she was spouting off inane details about the movie, but I know I probably killed the mood for her tonight, and this was supposed to be a night for her. A fucking tradition, she said. I wish I could be unselfish and walk away, or at least beg some more for her forgiveness for fucking up the night, but I don’t have it in me, and honestly, I’m glad Sky saw that side of me. Some sick facet of my personality is drawn to the fact that she didn’t run from my outburst or cower or pout and demand an apology for how I treated her, because this is who I am. I can’t change, I will never be fixed. I can only ever be accepted.

  SUNLIGHT SHINES INTO THE house through the panoramic windows, bathing the whole living room in a bright yellow light and blinding me through my eyelids, waking me from a deep sleep.

  Jesus. Why the hell is it so fucking bright in here? Where the fuck am I?

  My eyes shoot open as I take in my surroundings. I’m still on the couch in Sky’s living room, the DVD menu frozen on the screen, my hand buried in soft strands of her hair. The faint scent of peaches engulfs me and the weight of Skylar’s body on mine wakes me right up. Apparently my dick was already aware of this situation because it is wide awake and hard as fuck. Shit. I really did not mean to fall asleep with her, and I’m sure she did not mean to pass out on me. Everything after the halfway mark of Lost In Translation is hazy, although I’m not shocked I fell asleep. I was wiped out and I don’t care how many people say that movie is fantastic, it’s boring as hell.

  Something vibrates from inside my pants, and unless my dick got magical powers overnight I’m guessing someone is calling me. Sky shifts slightly on top of me, releasing a quiet a moan while she wraps her arms tight around my waist, burrowing her head deeper into my stomach. I would let my phone keep ringing and be perfectly content just laying with her in my arms, but I never ignore phone calls because the only people that call me are family.

  “Sky, sweetheart, I need to grab my phone.” I brush the hair away from her face with one hand and attempt to shift myself out from under her.

  “There is no Skylar, only Zuul.” Her voice is raspy as she rolls off of me and pulls the blanket over her head, refusing to move from the couch.

  Quoting Ghostbusters, fucking adorable. And she is obviously not a morning person.

  I pull the phone out of my pocket and walk to the kitchen. Fuck, the tile on her floor is cold. My caller ID identifies that it’s Shayla calling, and I answer right before my voicemail picks up.

  “Morning, Shay. How is my favorite sister today?”

  “Don’t try and kiss my ass, Liam. How could you not tell me?” She’s feisty this morning, and it’s way too early for me to have fucked up already.

  “What are you talking about? What didn’t I tell you?” I know she knows I’m here since we had a whole discussion about me leaving and she actually seemed way too excited to get rid of me. That probably had to do with the fact she was so star struck over the prospect of me staying with Skylar.

  “You told me you were just working for Skylar Barrett, not that you were dating her. When did this happen? You just met her a few days ago, right? And how could you leave me, your only sister and most favorite of people, in the dark? This whole thing is tragic.”

  “Shayla, what the fuck are you talking about? I am only working for her.” That isn’t entirely true, but there is no reason to get into the details with my baby sister, especially when I’m not quite sure what the hell is going on myself, although I’m confident that there probably is no place in the job description that states falling asleep together.

  I hear her typing on her laptop and she sighs before saying, “You and Skylar Barrett are all over the gos
sip sites this morning. There are pictures and videos of you raging out on paparazzi with the headline, ‘Skylar Joy Barrett’s new boyfriend has anger issues.’”

  “What? That’s fucking bullshit!” I push myself off the kitchen counter I was leaning on just minutes before, the anger in my voice causing me to be louder than I intended. Looking over at the couch, I see Skylar gazing at me through half closed eyes, clearly confused, as she lazily swipes the hair out of her eyes.

  “So you guys aren’t together? Well, what the shit happened at the airport? You look pissed, big brother. Dad is worried you’re going to lose it if you stay in that environment with her.”

  I blow out a breath and try to think of the right words that will help her stop worrying about me. “No, Shay, we aren’t together. It was just a crazy scene at the airport that I wasn’t prepared for. Shit got out of hand.” I turn away from Sky’s stare and rest my arms on the counter. For some reason I don’t want her to hear this discussion. It makes me feel weak. “You know how I get sometimes. Tell dad I’m good, okay. I have it under control.”

  “Promise?” Whenever her voice goes quiet like that I feel the weight of her unnecessary concern crushing my conscience. I hate her worrying about me; it should be the other way around.

  “I promise, Shayla.”

  “Bro, you are freakin’ famous now!” Worried Shayla has apparently left the building. “So what’s it like there? What’s her house like? You meet any famous people yet?”

  It’s way too fucking early for this. “Look, Shayla, you know I love you, but I just woke up. Can we save the interrogation for another time?” Preferably never.

  “Okay, okay, I can see the fame has already gone to your head. No time for the little people anymore.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Stay out of trouble, Shay.”

  “Same goes for you, big brother. Oh, wait! Can you do me a favor? Pretty please with rainbow flavored whiskey on top.”

  “What the hell is rainbow flavored whiskey? You know what, never mind. What’s the favor?”

  “Can you take a picture of her closet for me?” Why the fuck would she want a picture of her closet?

  “No, I’m not doing that.”

  “Oh, come on. She wouldn’t care. We’re pretty much best friends now and she stole my brother, so she owes me.”

  “She didn’t steal me. She hired me, and I’m not doing that so just forget it.” I turn around and catch a glimpse of Sky who is now fixing her sleep disheveled hair by pulling it up into a ponytail. Even just waking up, her face free of makeup and with messy hair, she is still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. “Seriously, stay out of trouble. If Mason gives you any more shit, you tell me or Dad, you got me?”

  “Just one picture of her closet, one that shows the most shoes. Come on, just ask her, Liam. She will understand. It’s totally a girl thing.”

  She just dodged me. I don’t like that. Not one fucking bit. “Shayla, did you hear me? Is Mason giving you trouble? You would tell me, right?”

  “Yes, I heard you, Liam. And no, he isn’t giving me trouble. You just worry about yourself, okay?” Easier said than done. “Love you, big brother.”

  “Me too.”

  “Don’t forget to send me the picture.”

  “No. Bye, Shayla.”

  “You suck today.”

  “I know.”

  I put the phone in my pocket and lean back on the kitchen island, watching as Sky stretches and shakes her head, clearly trying to wake herself up, seemingly unconcerned that we ended up falling asleep together.

  “What was that about?” she asks through a yawn.

  Fuck, I don’t even want to tell her. I’m too afraid the story that is now being spun will piss her off and she’ll send me packing to avoid the problems I’m currently creating in her life, but I guess she will find out soon enough.

  “That was my sister. Apparently we are all over the gossip sites.”

  She raises her brow at me and a small naughty smile creeps across her face. “Really? What are the stalkerazzi saying now?”

  Not exactly the response I was expecting. “They’re saying that your new boyfriend, meaning me apparently, has anger issues. I guess because of the airport incident.” Sky jumps over the back of the couch and makes her way over to the kitchen, hopping her cute ass right up onto the counter so she is sitting right next to where I’m standing.

  “Hmmm.” She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

  “Hmmm? What does hmmm mean? Aren’t you pissed?” I ask, moving myself so I’m directly in front of her, my arms bracing the counter on either side of her. She still seems so much smaller than me. Tiny, delicate, easy to break. I know Sky’s not as fragile as she seems, but that still does nothing to ease that protective instinct that continues to rise the more I am around her.

  “Why would I be pissed?”

  “They’re calling me your boyfriend and they have video of me shoving a guy. I don’t want to ruin your reputation here, Sky.”

  Sweet, unexpected laughter fills the room. Definitely not the reaction I was expecting. “Liam, I trashed my reputation a while ago, and as far as fake boyfriends go, I think I kind of lucked out with you. It could have been much worse. Although I did always sort of picture Colin Farrell filling that role, but I suppose you’ll do.”

  “Colin Farrell? Really?” Fuck Colin Farrell.

  “What can I say, I have a thing for Irish boys.” She winks at me and starts banging the heels of her feet against the counter while sporting a mischievous grin. I want to fucking kiss her. Grab her face and kiss that flirty teasing look right off it.

  “I’m hungry,” she announces. “I can’t believe it’s ten in the morning. I never sleep in this late. You want to get some breakfast?”

  Ten in the morning? I don’t think I’ve slept in this long in fucking ever.

  “Sure, I could eat. We should probably change first, get cleaned up.” I give her barely there shorts and tank top a once-over. Her cold kitchen floor must have chilled her too because right now her nipples are poking the fabric of her shirt, just begging me to put my mouth on them.

  “I think I’m good to go now. It is L.A. in July. It’ll be hot and muggy outside, so the less clothes the better as I always say. Keep my glowing reputation intact,” she jokes. I know she’s fucking with me and it’s endearing, really, but I’m hungry as hell and I don’t want to play this game with her so I wrap my arms around her waist, picking her up off the counter and throwing her over my shoulder.

  “Liam! Put me down, dammit!” She’s shrieking and laughing while she tries to wiggle her body out of my grasp.

  I hold on tight, making my way up the stairs, and to the bedroom. “I’m taking you to your room to change because we both know you won’t step out of this house in what you’re wearing. Then we’ll get some breakfast.” Kicking her bedroom door open with my foot, I step over to her bed and throw her on top of it. Sky looks sinful on top of the white covers—sinfully pissed off. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and place a rough kiss on top of her head. I’m not sure why, I just fucking wanted to.

  “Change and meet me downstairs. Maybe wear something that brings out the blue in your eyes.”

  “You know, a please would go a long way. Manhandling is not necessary,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Probably true.” But it’s not as much fun.

  “You are also kind of an ass.”

  “Definitely true, baby,” I tell her as I walk out and close the bedroom door behind me. But like a sucker, I just stand outside it, my arms braced against the door jamb. As soon as I hear the shower turn on though, I back away because the thought of her naked and wet is just a little too much to handle.

  “Skylar, you done up there yet? I’m starving, woman!” I’ve been sitting on the bottom step in her solarium for the last ten minutes, waiting for her to finish getting ready. It took me ten fucking minutes, and I get that women take longer, but she’s naturally beauti
ful so really Sky should be able to shower, throw some fucking clothes on, and be done with it.

  “I’m coming, slugger. Calm down.”

  I stand up and turn around, watching as Sky skips down the stairs, taking two at a time, and I could not be more fucking thrilled that she’s decided to wear a short green summery dress that makes the blue in her eyes stand out against her sun-kissed skin and auburn hair. Not to mention, prop her tits up in the most perfect way possible. I almost smile at the fact she listened to me. Almost.

  “You look beautiful,” I compliment, placing my hand under the fall of her hair and around her neck, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks. Thank you. I mean, it’s just breakfast, I know, but I’m kind of a dress girl. Not that I don’t like pants or anything, I definitely like the pants you’re wearing,” she nervously states, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  Okay, now I’m smiling. “Did you call your driver to come pick us up already?” I release my hold on her neck. It seems to make her a little anxious, and as much as I love when Sky gets flustered around me, I would really love to move this along so I can have breakfast.

  “No. Why would I call my driver? I have you, don’t I? You can drive us.”

  “I didn’t realize you have your own car. I figured you just had people.”

  “I do have people, but I also have cars. Two in fact. It is L.A. Everyone drives at some point.” A grin grows on her face, one that is telling me she has a secret she can’t wait to tell me all about. “Come on. Let’s go to the garage and I’ll let you pick which one we take.”

  Grabbing my hand, she pulls me through the foyer and to a door that I’m assuming leads to the garage. How we managed to avoid the garage during the tour I have no idea. I didn’t even think to ask where this door led. The second she flicks the light on, I realize why she was acting so excited.

  “Holy fuck, Sky. These aren’t cars, they’re works of art.” I want to live in her garage. I will move all my shit from the pool house right into this space and sleep on the cold concrete of the garage floor just to be closer to these cars. The one nearest to me is a sleek black Lotus Exige Roadster, a car I’ve never actually seen in person and now I’m so close that I can see my reflection in the pristinely clean doors. And as if the Lotus wasn’t impressive enough, parked right next to it is a mint condition midnight blue ’68 Mustang Fastback. This girl has a fucking Fastback.