Benath the Surface (Reluctance #1)

by Stacie, M. A

  She turned and started walking again.

  “I won’t let you leave me, Dale,” Kyran shouted after her.

  “You just did.”

  Chapter 22

  She wouldn’t cry. It would get her nowhere. Kyran had made the rules very clear at the start of their relationship, and she had been the one to alter them. He was juggling so many aspects to his life and harboring so much resentment for his father and brother that there was no room for her.

  Dale felt drained of emotion. She’d felt terrible after finding Joel in bed with her friend and the other woman but nowhere near as bad as she did now. The way it had ended with Kyran hurt most of all. No argument, no mean things said, just the resolve that they could no longer be together.

  Dale had stayed in bed all day Sunday, cocooning herself in the comfort of her blanket. Her cell had rung on numerous occasions, but she’d ignored it. She didn’t care who was on the other end at that point. She just wanted to lick her wounds.

  Kyran had called her every thirty minutes on Monday morning. Once again, she let the calls go to her voice mail. Her time with the Reese Corporation had to end, too. Dale couldn’t spend time with Kyran and pretend not to be in love with him. She refused to keep making a fool of herself where he was concerned.

  By lunchtime Dale had reached her limit of self-pity. She showered and dressed, deciding a chat with her brother would make her feel a little better. On the way out of her apartment building she collected her mail. There was another one of the strange blank oblongs of card in there. Yet again, the envelope included no information, nothing other than the white card. It was perplexing. Dale tossed it into the trash can on the street, not giving it another thought.

  Her brother’s apartment was a few blocks away, so after grabbing coffee, she walked slowly over there, using the time to get her head straight.

  The streets were busy with the lunchtime rush. Dale dodged the bustling crowds, steaming cups of coffee, and hot fast-food wrappers. A couple giggled at each other, the man pulling the blond-haired girl closer to his chest and kissing the top of her head. Jealousy turned her blood green with envy. It singed through her veins, sending her emotions into a spin. Dale felt her tears threatening to fall, so she crossed the road, needing to get away from their public display of affection. Watching them hurt, but Dale tortured herself more by looking back at them. The man’s hand was snug in his girlfriend’s back pocket, her head resting on his shoulder. She wanted that close comfort so much with Kyran. It was useless hoping for it because only she wanted that connection. Kyran had made that very clear.

  Forcing herself to change the direction of her thoughts, Dale turned the corner and entered her brother’s apartment complex. She rode the elevator to his floor, sipping her coffee while she waited. When she arrived at his front door, she heard a giggle from within. Maybe she should have called first? Shrugging, she decided it was a little late to be concerned about that now, so she knocked.

  The laughing stopped, and a heartbeat later Trace opened the door, his chest bare and jeans unfastened. His hair looked like hands had run through it for most of the night, and his lips were swollen.

  “I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?”

  Trace smiled and reached for her. “You are, but I forgive you.” Dale linked her fingers with his and let him tug her into the apartment. “You look tired, D. What’s up?”

  She was about to tell him everything when she saw a tall redhead standing in the kitchen. She wore only a T-shirt she’d seen Trace wear before. “Oh shit, I am interrupting. I’ll go.”

  Dale pulled away and was heading for the door when Trace hauled her back. “We were just making breakfast—well, brunch, I guess. There’s no need to leave.” He lowered his voice. “Please? I want you to meet her.”

  She didn’t want to see Trace’s happiness, but then she didn’t want to be alone either. The redhead held up a carton of orange juice and smiled. “Hi, would you like a drink?”

  “No, thanks.” Admitting defeat, Dale dropped her purse onto the nearest chair and followed Trace into the kitchen. He hooked his arm around the woman’s middle and nestled her close to his side. “Dale, this is Emmie. Emmie, this is my sister, Dale.”

  Emmie smiled again and kissed Trace’s cheek. “I know who she is. I knew as soon as she walked through the door. You both look so alike.”

  Dale snorted. “Everyone says that. Not very flattering for either of us.”

  “Why?”

  Traced kissed Emmie’s shoulder. “Because she’s a girl and I’m a guy.”

  Emmie giggled—the same one Dale had heard from outside the apartment. “I suppose you’re right. But you really do look so similar. Anyway, it’s good to meet you. Trace talks about you all the time.”

  Dale switched legs, leaning from one to the other. “I’m sorry to interrupt you guys.”

  Trace started to speak, but Emmie interrupted. “It’s fine. I have to get to work soon anyway. Now, we have toast, cereal, or muffins. I see you have the coffee covered.”

  Dale shook her empty cup. “Not anymore. I drank it on the way over, but I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

  “Well, then, I’ll fix breakfast . . . and coffee. You two go and sit down. I can see you want to talk.”

  Frowning, Dale moved back into the living area and flopped into a large chair. “How did she know I wanted to talk? I could have just come over to see how you were.”

  Trace smirked, grabbing a discarded hoodie from the back of the couch and pulling it over his head. “She does that. Freaky, isn’t it? Besides, if you wanted to know how I was, you would have called, not walked over.”

  He had a point.

  “I feel bad for not calling. I don’t mean to cut your . . . fun short.”

  “Oh, it was a lot of fun, but you heard her. She has work.” Trace sat down on the couch, crossed his legs in front of him, and lit a cigarette. “So, come on then, spill.”

  Dale watched the smoke fill the room, entranced as it danced and twirled its way to the ceiling. In her head, she played out different ways to explain what was happening to her, but they all felt forced. She wanted to tell her brother, although in truth, she had come to his apartment for the company, not to cry her heart out.

  “Kyran and I are done.”

  Trace took a drag of his cigarette and flicked the ash into the ashtray before responding. “As in over?”

  “What other done is there, Trace?”

  “Fair enough. Want to explain a little more? Or am I simply supposed to bitch about him with you?”

  “There’s nothing to bitch about. We’re done. I wanted things he couldn’t give. End of.”

  Trace placed his cigarette to his lips and then pulled it out as though he was going to say something, but thought better of it and took a drag. He puffed out the smoke in a circle. His eyes never left hers, and Dale grew anxious under his scrutiny.

  “You love him,” he said, making it sound more like a statement than an accusation.

  Denial rested on the tip of her tongue. It stayed there, tempting her, until she realized that there would be no point. Her brother knew her, and he would know she was lying to him. “I do, yes. My problem is that he doesn’t love me back.”

  “Has he said that?”

  “Does he need to?” she asked, rather irritated Trace hadn’t jumped to her defense.

  “If this is you just guessing his feelings, then I’d say yes, he does need to say the words, D.”

  “Since when have you been Kyran’s biggest fan?”

  Trace laughed, stubbing his cigarette out when Emmie walked into the room with two glasses of juice. “I’ve asked you to smoke on the fire escape. Please, Trace?”

  Dale caught the grimace on the other woman’s face and the shame flitting across her brother’s. Their interaction interested her on so many levels. She had tried for years to get Trace to stop smoking. It looked like she no longer needed to try. Emmie would do it for her.

  They both t
hanked her for the juice and took a sip. Emmie nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

  “Are you going to answer me?” Dale placed the glass down on the coffee table harder than intended. Some of the juice sloshed over the rim, spilling onto the table. She apologized and reached for the box of tissues to mop up the mess.

  Trace leaned forward, placing his hand over hers, and said, “I’m not defending him, D. I’m merely pointing out that you could have your wires crossed. Don’t forget I saw you two, watched the way he touched you. Those actions were pretty clear to me, without even mentioning the way he looked at you. He devoured you.”

  “He did?” Dale’s pulse kicked up a notch.

  “Yup, and as your brother, you should know it made me dry heave.”

  If what he said was true, then maybe she had been wrong about his lack of emotion. Dale thought about their time together. She replayed moments of intimacy, grasping for the slightest indication that Kyran did, in fact, return her feelings. The thought that he might gave her hope, but everything she remembered could be written off as just sex. Nothing stuck out to her.

  “It’s my fault.” She watched Trace’s eyebrows rise with interest. “We had an . . . agreement. I overstepped the mark. I took things too far.”

  “Oh, now I get it.” He wrinkled his nose, making her chuckle. “I get it but so don’t need to hear about it, okay?”

  “No need to panic. I won’t be sharing any details of my bedroom antics with Ky. We’re close, but there is a limit, Trace.”

  “Thank God.”

  Dale toyed with the hem of her shirt, already feeling better, although her chest still felt hollow.

  “Anyway, I’m kind of at loose ends now. No job, no relationship.” She tried to make light of her situation, but her tone gave her away.

  “Did he fucking fire you?” Trace jumped off the couch “He can’t do that, D. Give me his number, his address—I’ll go and talk to the guy.”

  While Dale was happy to know her brother was willing to fight her battles for her, she couldn’t allow him to believe this had all been Kyran’s doing.

  “Whoa!” She stood up and captured his wrist. “Trace, calm down. I decided not to go back. Me. This has nothing to do with Kyran.” Trace’s shoulders sagged as he calmed. “Things happened there. Things I’m not going into, but it had nothing to do with Kyran. All of that, plus my feelings for Ky, were not something I wanted to be involved in. The day job became far more than I could handle. So I walked away. Back down, please.”

  “Fine,” he said bluntly. “But just so you know, I don’t believe you.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I would say that I could see about getting you a few hours at Metro, but with Reese fighting there, I doubt you would want to.”

  “Agreed. And he’s Reese again now?”

  Trace shrugged and slumped back down onto the couch. “If the guy messes with my sister then he doesn’t deserve my friendship.”

  “You guys were never friends. Though I appreciate the support. Just don’t go giving him shit. He has enough to deal with.”

  “Now you’re defending him?”

  He didn’t understand her predicament. It was clear Trace had feelings for Emmie, so there was no issue between them. Their relationship was not one-sided like hers had been.

  “Anyway,” Dale said, trying to think of something else. It still hurt remembering Kyran. “I’ll just have to go job hunting, won’t I?”

  “Dad’s going out to the island next week. He’ll need help with the house.”

  Emmie brought Trace’s brunch in, allowing Dale a bit of time to think. She turned her head when they kissed, the affection too much to bear. Dale thought about Trace’s suggestion and wondered whether a few days on the tiny island of Barren, which was situated about thirty minutes from Sea Pointe, was what she needed. Their father still kept their childhood home, visiting Barren a few times a year. He treated it like a vacation home of sorts, though she never understood why it was a vacation when it lay so close to where they lived now.

  Trace usually went with their father. They fished, went scuba diving, and drank a whole lot. They bonded. Dale had been back to the house a few times but not often. It didn’t hold any bad memories; her issue was the size of the island. It was home to less than a thousand people, and whenever she visited, the choking claustrophobia returned. Too many people knew each other’s business, and growing up on that island had sometimes been a nightmare.

  “When is he leaving?” she asked a tad too quickly.

  Trace grinned and shoveled a pile of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He hadn’t swallowed them when he started speaking. “Wednesday. You going?”

  “You’re disgusting.” She handed him a tissue. “I might. Maybe a week in the middle of nowhere is what I need.”

  “Hardly nowhere. It’s a half hour away on Dad’s boat.” He resumed his shoveling.

  Feeling a little sick at his gluttony, Dale stood up and lifted her purse onto her shoulder. “I’ll call him. I think I’ll go.”

  “He’ll like that, D. He misses you.”

  “I’ll let you know what I decide tonight.” She walked to the door, waving good-bye to Emmie. “She’s nice, Trace. Maybe she can kick your ass into gear.”

  “Funny,” he said, following her to the door. “Are you going to tell him?”

  “Trace, drop it. It’s over. Done.” Dale was growing weary of Trace’s insistence. His understanding of the situation was limited, and she wouldn’t go over everything with him. She needed some space. Going with her father would offer her that.

  Dale kissed Trace’s cheek. “Thanks, Trace. I guess I needed to get it all out.” She promised to call him later when she’d made her final decision.

  As she rode the elevator to the street, she pulled out her cell phone. “Hi, Dad, it’s me. Trace said you’re off to Barren on Wednesday. I was wondering if you’d like some company?”

  Chapter 23

  The punch landed at the side of Kyran’s mouth, sending spit and blood flying into the air. He felt the skin of his lip split, and hissed at the pain, yet he welcomed it at the same time. The sting gave him something else to focus on. It snapped his head out of the loop it was currently on, offering him the alternative he needed.

  Pain.

  He was one sick fuck. His world outside the Reese Corporation was crumbling around him, and the only way he had of dealing with it was through the intensity of a fight and the pain of a fist. Taylor had screwed up so much that Kyran doubted there would ever be a way back for him. Dale hadn’t responded to his calls or texts, leaving him to wonder if that relationship was screwed, too.

  It should be no great surprise to him. Dale had told him how she felt so many times, and he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Kyran had tried to convey his emotions in other ways, but she had missed the signs, and now he couldn’t contact her. He was lost.

  Another fist flew at his face, and he did nothing to stop it from connecting. His teeth rattled and his jaw ached, but even though his senses sharpened, the emptiness remained in his chest.

  “Is that all you have?” he asked, goading his competitor.

  Kyran held out his arms, his chest heaving from the exertion as sweat trickled down his torso. The loose bandages dangled from his palms. Sam hovered in his periphery. Kyran didn’t need to look at him to know the old man was flabbergasted by the way he was acting. How could he explain that he needed this tonight? Hungered for the agony.

  He didn’t give a shit that he’d lose. It no longer mattered. Nothing did.

  “Come on, then!” Kyran bellowed. The crowd cheered him on.

  His head started to spin as his opponent’s fists flew. Kyran never blocked them. He took every single one and then waited for the next. Numbness overtook him, the alcohol he’d consumed earlier made it bearable. Blood trickled down his face—he could feel the tracks and taste the coppery tang. Unconcerned with how bad his face would look in the morning, he goaded his op
ponent again and beckoned him with his fingers. Sam yelled across the room, waving his arms wildly as he tried to get Kyran’s attention.

  The churning in his stomach increased, and as another punch hit his temple, dots began to appear in front of his eyes. Kyran tried to blink them away unsuccessfully, which left him unprepared for another blow. Staggering back, a fist connected with his ribs. He gagged, the acid bile burning its way up his throat. The alcohol sloshed in his gut. The cramps took his breath away, and Kyran was about thirty seconds from vomiting when a pair of hands gripped his biceps from behind. Dizzy, sick, and wincing in pain, Kyran was dragged from the mob around the ring and shoved into the locker room.

  He fell to the floor; the cold tiles soothed his lacerated skin. Kyran’s body sagged in exhaustion. It gripped him so tightly he had to close his eyes. A buzzing had begun in his ears. It was so sharp he cringed.

  “What the fuck were you doing?”

  Kyran fought to block out the boom of Sam’s voice. There was someone else in the room with them; he could hear Sam muttering to whoever it was. Curious, Kyran cracked one eye open and closed it as soon as he saw who stood talking to Sam.

  “Too late,” Trace said. “I caught you looking. Can you haul your ass up? We need to check your busted face.”

  Kyran’s entire body throbbed, and his pulse grew stronger with each heartbeat. His abdomen clenched, still threatening to purge its contents. He wouldn’t answer Trace. The guy shouldn’t even be around him.

  “Come on.” Trace grabbed onto his arms. “The self-hate thing you have going on isn’t working. Unless, of course, you hate yourself so much you actually want brain damage.” He dragged Kyran across the floor and lifted him with a groan into a chair.