I started a business, bought a house, and made plans … so many plans. Plans that would be considered simple and boring to some, but they covered everything I wanted since the time I was four years old. They were the plans that would give me the life I’d been longing for since I the minute I was left on mine own.
I had my eyes on the prize, the promise of what could be if I worked hard, took care of my woman, and did everything that the person who was supposed to love me and care for me didn’t do. I would have held on until the bitter, burning end, but there was nothing I could do when the rope was cut.
At that point all I could do was fall.
I felt my grip on everything I was trying so hard to hold onto slip the day she walked into my garage, hiding behind one of my friends. Rowdy St. James worked at the tattoo shop where I got the majority of my ink done. He called and asked me to empty out my shop of employees and other customers one Saturday afternoon so that he could bring his girlfriend’s sister in to look at a car. He didn’t need to explain why the garage needed to be cleared out, not that I would have asked. The girl had been all over the news months before. You couldn’t get away from her terrified face and shaking body as her horrifying ordeal was splashed all over the media. Her husband had abducted her at gunpoint. Salem, her sister and Rowdy’s lady, had been a victim of the attack as well. Poppy Cruz only went with the lunatic to keep her sibling safe, but it had resulted in a nightmare that I couldn’t imagine anyone coming back from. Without question cleared out the shop so she wouldn’t have to worry about being surrounded by a bunch of dirty, boisterous men that wouldn’t know how to behave around someone as fragile and delicate as she appeared to be.
I didn’t want her to be scared of anything ever again.
Things at home had been rocky, rougher than class-five rapids in winter, but I was paddling for my life and prepared to ride it out. I couldn’t let go. I wouldn’t let go. I saw Poppy the day she walked through my shop and I started to feel how sore my hands and my heart were from holding on.
Her head was down, focused on the tips of her shoes. Her shoulders were hunched over and her long hair hid her face. She was skinny, so skinny, nothing but skin and bones. She was nothing that I should have noticed, not because she was clearly doing everything in her power to be invisible, but because I was supposed to have my eyes locked on my future and doing whatever I could to salvage it. But I did notice her and I couldn’t look away once I did.
She was obviously terrified, clearly out of her element and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t her unease that called to me … it was her loneliness. I could feel it filling up the space that separated us. Stretching, growing, expanding until it was all I was breathing in and exhaling back out. It was bitter on my tongue and heavy across my skin because I knew the feeling well. I lived with it pressing me down and pushing me forward every minute of every day. The reason I was so set on the way things had to be, the reason I was singlemindedly set on settling down and building a life with the girl that was slipping through my fingers was because I never again wanted to be as alone as this girl was. I didn’t want to be left and forgotten. I’d barely survived it the first time.
I did my best to sell her a car that was as beautiful as she was … a classic with clean lines and a flawless finish. She picked something practical and boring but that was ultimately safe and reliable. I understood her choice but it grated and annoyed me long after she left the shop. When she wasn’t standing in front of me, she should have been easy to forget; after all, everything in front of me, everything I had been working for and toward, was falling down in front of my eyes. My world was collapsing in on itself and everything I thought I was so goddamn sure about turned out to be nothing more than lies and illusions. In the middle of all of it, I couldn’t forget her sad eyes and shivering, shaking form. Her loneliness clung to me, unshakable and unforgettable. I didn’t think I would see her again and against my better judgment I often found myself wondering how she was doing and if she had gotten a handle on all the things that seemed to be crushing her under their inescapable weight.
I was wrong about seeing her again, just like I was wrong about thinking that doing everything in my life differently from how my mother had lived hers would ensure my happiness and a future built on an unshakable foundation. I was wrong about hard work and sacrifice being enough. I was wrong about holding on when what I was holding on to desperately wanted me to let go. All I was left with was bleeding palms, rope burns around my heart and scars on my soul.
The next time I saw Poppy Cruz it was my loneliness that was filling up the space, suffocating me, choking me, making me forget to handle her with care. I was nothing more than a vast, open wound. One that was raw, aching, throbbing, and leaking my heart and shattered emotions out everywhere. I felt like I’d lost everything, like my entire life had been nothing but a waste of time, nothing more than building blocks knocked over with the swipe of a careless hand. The girl I loved didn’t love me back, my future was ultimately nothing more than a fuzzy, fractured blur. I couldn’t see anything clearly other than waste and ruin.
But I saw her. And I saw that I scared her.
It was the last thing I wanted to do but my loneliness was just as big and just and consuming as hers was. It spread out, hungry and angry, looking to consume anyone that might try and challenge its reign.
I tried to pull myself together, apologized because I knew our paths would cross again now that she lived next door to my best friend. I didn’t want to be another man that she was terrified of. I locked the loneliness down, wrestled it into submission, and tried to quiet down the wild inside of me that was howling, screaming at the loss of its mate. I wanted to be nothing more than gnashing teeth and tearing claws but I swallowed those instincts and allowed myself to be like a kicked puppy that just wanted to whimper and cry.
Poppy that had been through more than I could imagine. She was the one I couldn’t look away from, but even then, she managed to slip past me and disappear. She looked like honey but she moved like a ghost. I memorized everything about her even though she hardly let me see her face.
I wasn’t supposed to be looking at anything other than how to salvage the mess my life was in, but she was all I could see.
Chapter 1
Poppy
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
I was pretty sure sometime over the last week my body and brain had been taken over by an alien life force that was making me act the opposite of how I normally acted.
Even before I was scared of my own shadow, I wasn’t the type that went out of my way to seek attention from the opposite sex. Making boys drool and collecting broken hearts was more up my older sister’s alley. I tended to be the girl that only spoke when spoken to. I was always shy and hesitant, especially when I was around someone that I found attractive. I’d had more than one man tell me that it was endearing … little did I know that my obvious uncertainty about my own appeal and allure clearly marked me as prey to those same men. I was an easy target. Something I swore to myself I would never be again. Which was why there was no logical explanation for why I found myself currently parked in front of a very industrial-looking building as I tried to work up the courage to go inside.
The garage was on the outskirts of downtown Denver. Tucked away among factories and buildings that were now gentrified and redeveloped upscale apartments and trendy eateries near Coors Field. The garage looked like it had escaped every dime of big money sunk into making LoDo prime real estate. It was a throwback to when this part of the city was still rough and unsafe for people to be out walking their little dogs on designer leashes after dark. The bricks on the outside had faded paint from when the garage was some kind of shipping warehouse. The old paint blended in with newer graffiti that the owner hadn’t bothered to power-wash away. There was also a mural, a beautiful depiction of the Rocky Mountains, that stood off in the distance; it covered all three of the massive metal doors that allowed the cars access in and ou
t of the building. It was a statement piece. One that was impossible to miss. It softened the entire feel of the building and the tall metal fence with its wide gate that surrounded it.
I knew that one of the guys who owned the tattoo shop where both my sister and her boyfriend worked had painted the mural in trade. Wheeler, the guy I was here to see, if I ever got up the nerve, worked on Nash Donovan’s muscle car and in turn Nash had turned the garage doors into something that even the most dedicated taggers and graffiti artists appreciated too much to deface. Salem, my sister, mentioned that Wheeler was never opposed to a solid trade. Which explained why the majority of the mechanic’s skin was painted and inked in colorful images courtesy of Nash and the Saints of Denver tattoo shop.
I was used to being surrounded by heavily tattooed individuals—heck, my sister started marking her permanently tan and golden skin before she was legally old enough to get a tattoo in order to annoy my father. However, Hudson Wheeler was by far the most decorated human I had ever come across. The designs swirled up each side of his neck and across his throat. They dropped down over his wrists and splayed wide across the back of his hands. He had artwork across his chest and it crawled from the base of his hairline all the way to the top of his jeans across his back. He was a walking art installation., And while all that ink and color might have been overwhelming on someone else, with the graceful, thoughtful way he moved and the quiet, measured way he spoke, all the color and noise that covered his body worked for the man that was known as Wheeler. . I figured out after the first time I met him that his skin was telling the world his story because he didn’t want to be bothered with repeating it over and over again.
My father would be appalled by the way Hudson Wheeler looked. He would hate everything about him. Clearly that meant I allowed the trickle of attraction that had worked its way through the fear and doubt that suffocated me on a daily basis to take root and grow. Anything that my dad disapproved of was something that I was more than willing to embrace with open arms.
Taking a deep breath and tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I looked over at the little box that was on the seat next to me. A small grin tugged at my mouth when my eyes landed on the contents. I had no idea if Wheeler was in the market for this particular kind of gift but I figured if he didn’t want it I would take it home until I figured something else out. It was a bold move, bringing a man I hardly knew this kind of gift, but as soon as I saw it I knew Wheeler had to have it.
I scolded myself for being foolish and impulsive, silently telling myself that I was setting myself up for the kind of embarrassment and ridicule that would cripple me. It had taken me close to a year in therapy and unwavering amounts of tough love from my family and friends to get to the point where I could leave the house without having a full-on panic attack. Taking a step so far out of my comfort zone felt like I was jumping off a cliff without knowing if there was anything down below to cushion my fall. If Wheeler rejected the gift, if he made me feel stupid for trying to do something nice, it very well might undo all the hard work I’d put into getting back some semblance of a normal life. Trying to cheer up a man that I had no ties to or no investment in seemed like a foolish risk to take, but I still packed up the box and drove down here. I tried to talk myself out of going inside, my mind screaming that this was a mistake. It didn’t work. Even though I was a nervous wreck I still ended up grabbing the box, making faces and muttering under my breath at the contents like they could reassure me this wasn’t going to blow up in my face. I was shaking from head to toe as I exited the car.
The box shifted in my hold, which made me gasp and mutter a few choice words. My father would hate that I was swearing, so I made it a point to do so at least once a day. I had to shut the car door with my hip and I jumped when it slammed shut. I watched wide-eyed as one of the painted metal doors started to roll up. I squinted behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses as a lone figure walked to the edge of a bay and deftly jumped down, ignoring the ramp that led up into the building. I gulped a little bit because there was no mistaking the tall, lean figure that was making his way toward me. The late-afternoon sun made his already burnished hair glow like autumn fire, and highlighted the dips and valleys in his arms and across his broad chest as he wiped his hands on a red rag that he pulled from his back pocket. He had the top half of his coveralls unfastened and hanging around his waist, leaving him and all that artwork that covered him on display in nothing more than a black tank top that had a hole on the side. He looked dirty and a little rough. Both things totally worked for him … and for me. I’d almost forgotten what lust felt like. I was attracted to him and that terrified me because in my world attraction led to nothing but heartache and hurt. Still, here I was, standing in front of him even though everything inside of me was screaming to run as far away from him as possible.
I moved as the box shifted again and stopped as he lifted his chin up in the direction where I had parked my very nondescript sedan. “Something wrong with the Camry?” Wheeler’s voice was warm and smooth, like expensive liquor sipped on summer nights, but his eyes were cold. They were the palest blue I had ever seen, a blue so washed out and light that they had a silvery shimmer to them. They were also sharp and intent, not missing much, including the box I was having a hard time keeping a hold on as he got closer.
“Um … no. The Camry is fine, thank you.” Rowdy, my sister’s boyfriend and the father of my soon-to-make-an-appearance niece or nephew, had strong-armed me into buying a car from Wheeler when I finally decided I was emotionally well enough to live on my own after I fell apart at the hands of the last man that was supposed to love me. Wheeler tried to sell me a 1957 Bonneville that was hands down the coolest car I had ever seen, but I balked at the idea of riding around in something that was guaranteed to attract unwanted attention. Especially attention of the male variety. Rowdy cringed when I handed over the cash for the Camry but Wheeler just smiled like he understood why I made the choice even if he didn’t think it was the right one.
I nervously shifted my feet and watched as that icy gaze of his landed on the box clutched to my side. Right on time the contents let out a little half bark, half yelp that had Wheeler’s eyebrows lifting up almost to his hairline and made his tattooed hands pause where they were still wringing the red rag tightly between them.
“Is that a puppy?” He sounded curious and slightly amused, which I took as a good sign. Most of the men I’d dealt with in the past would have been furious that I had not only showed up unannounced but did so with a tiny, wiggling puppy in tow.
“It is a puppy … I . . . uh … well, someone dropped them off at the vet’s office where I work and I thought that since Dixie is leaving and taking Dolly with her, and you seemed so fond of her that maybe you wanted one of your own . . . well . . .” I was rambling and talking too fast but I couldn’t stop the words from rushing out one after the other. Dolly was my neighbor’s pit bull, my neighbor who just happened to be Wheeler’s best friend. “Plus, you own a house, so you can have a pit bull or maybe you need him as a guard dog for the garage. With some training, he could be perfect. You can take him to work with you, which is great since most puppies have to live in a crate while they’re being trained.” I shifted my feet again and looked down at the dog, who was whining up at me like he felt sorry for me because even a nonhuman could tell I was making a mess of this. “Pit bulls are illegal in the city limits so we have to adopt them out because shelters will euthanize them if we can’t find them homes, and no animal deserves that.”
He didn’t answer me but he did reach out and take the box from me. The brindle-and-white puppy immediately jumped to the edge of the box and started yipping at and sniffing the new person that was within licking distance. Wheeler put the box on the ground and picked up the solid little body and held the adorable animal up in front of his face while the puppy barked excitedly and wagged his stubby little tail. “He’s cute.”
Oh lordy, was he ever … and I wasn’t talking about
the dog.
“Um … I know it’s kind of presumptuous but I thought maybe you two could help each other out.” I cringed as I unwittingly stumbled into personal territory where I absolutely didn’t belong. It had been nothing more than bad timing and admitted curiosity that landed me right in the middle of Wheeler’s personal life imploding. I shouldn’t know that his now-former fiancée had cheated on him, prompting him to cancel the wedding only a few weeks before they were set to walk down the aisle, and I also shouldn’t know that this wasn’t the first time his woman had stepped out on him. But I did know and it had me feeling all kinds of ways about what he had been through. I knew that Wheeler was a nice guy, one that deserved a bit of happiness while he healed from that kind of devastating heartbreak. And really, who couldn’t be happy when they were holding a puppy, especially when that puppy was already clearly in love with him.
“I’m going to miss Dixie more than I’m going to miss Dolly.” He gave me a crooked grin as he mentioned my neighbor.
The fact that I lived next door to Dixie was the reason I knew all the gory details of his recent breakup. She was his ex-fiancée’s sister as well as his best friend. The walls were thin and Dixie was one stranger that I trusted enough to get close to, so I spent a lot of time at her place. It sucked that she was getting ready to move to Mississippi right when Wheeler needed her the most. But her boyfriend was there and she missed him, so it was obvious she wasn’t happy being in Denver when Church wasn’t.
I cleared my throat and lifted fingers that had a visible tremor in them to my hair. I pushed some of it behind my ears and winced when the motion knocked my sunglasses sideways. I didn’t know if I could handle this conversation eye to eye but it was move the sunglasses or look like more of a spaz than I already did. With a sigh I pushed them to the top of my head and froze as his frosty eyes locked on mine. They were so cold I should be frozen from the inside out . . . instead I suddenly felt warm all over and heated in way that was foreign and strange. I’d never been so physically drawn to anyone before and it made me both anxious and agitated. I didn’t know what to do with it. I wasn’t in any kind of place emotionally to be crushing on a guy with the kind of complicated history and tangled future Wheeler had. I was only recently able to take care of myself in the most basic of ways There was no way I had it in me to take care of him as well … and that’s what he needed … a woman that would step up to the plate and fix all the things that selfish and thoughtless woman had broken. A woman who was selfish and thoughtless. A woman he very well might still be in love with.
Avenged: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) Page 14
