Maybe Don't Wanna

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Look at where that got us.

  Disgusted, I threw the covers off and went to the bathroom, bending over the sink and scrubbing my face as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

  I studied my eyes.

  They weren’t the nice, clear eyes of a man who was happy or content. They were dark, bleak, lackluster and devoid of life.

  The hazel green looked dull, almost muddy, to me, and the redness in them made me look even less approachable than I already was.

  Not that I cared.

  When people stayed away from me, it was easier to hide.

  “Please, God no!”

  My hands gripped the sink so hard that I feared it would break under the pressure.

  “No, no, no, no,” she moaned.

  I lifted my hand and slammed it down so hard on the sink that the attached mirror cracked. I watched as the crack traveled up the center of the mirror before taking a sharp left as it seemingly traveled right across my neck—almost as if I’d slit my own throat.

  And that was when I backed away, disgusted.

  In myself, mostly.

  I’d never, not ever, be good enough for her. The idea that I would ever be was almost laughable.

  Just the thought of her over there crying out in her sleep made my heart hurt, though. Like a goddamn rusty knife that’d been buried for thirty years slipped through my ribs and pierced it.

  But as I looked at myself, and heard her cry out one more time, I realized that I didn’t fucking care.

  I was a selfish bastard.

  I couldn’t listen to her cry another night.

  I had to know why, and I had to fix it.

  Tonight.

  Chapter 9

  When your boss asks what’s wrong, apparently “I need a nap and some dick” isn’t the answer you should reply with. Who knew?

  -Text from Kayla to Janie

  Kayla

  I was either having another nightmare or was just waking up from one, I wasn’t quite sure.

  As I stared at my ceiling, my heart pounding, I tried to decide whether I should be afraid of the man that was in the room with me.

  Then he said something.

  He didn’t scare me. Though, maybe he should have.

  I blinked and turned my head to see the silhouette of him standing over my bed.

  “Peter Parker Penn?” I asked in confusion.

  “Must you address me by my full name all the time?” He sounded exasperated but also somewhat relieved.

  “Yes,” I said matter-of-factly. “Why are you in my apartment?”

  “Because your never-ending cries of terror keep waking me up in the middle of the night, and I already don’t get enough sleep as it is,” he answered honestly. “Are you awake now?”

  I swallowed, slightly horrified that I’d kept him up with my nightmares.

  I knew I had them. I always remembered all of my dreams, nightmares included. However, I hadn’t realized that I was having them and crying out in my sleep. That I felt bad about.

  “I’m sorry, Parker,” I murmured. “I didn’t know that I was keeping you up.”

  He grunted something. “Move over.”

  “Uhhh,” I choked. “Why?”

  In response, he moved me over himself.

  “Because I don’t like getting into the cold spot,” he answered as he pushed me over to the ‘cold spot’ in question.

  I giggled when his hands found my ribs, then slightly flailed as he moved me some more until I was where he wanted me.

  “What are you…”

  Then he got into my bed and took over the use of my pillow.

  “Go back to sleep,” he ordered.

  I almost laughed at him.

  Here it was, four o’clock in the morning, and I was not going back to sleep. Not ever. Or, at least not tonight anyway.

  Not with Parker in my bed.

  I was practically vibrating with excitement.

  I was fairly sure that he could tell, too.

  “Take a chill pill and go back to sleep,” he ordered harshly.

  I snorted. “Parker, I’m fairly sure that you know me at least semi-well by now. Do you honestly think that I’m the ‘chill’ kind of person?”

  He groaned and rolled over, presenting me with his broad back.

  His broad, shirtless back that I could just barely tell was covered with tattoos.

  “How many tattoos do you have?” I asked curiously, reaching out to touch the black blur that I could see.

  “Dunno,” he answered, then flinched when I touched his hot skin. “Stop touching me.”

  I snorted. Then touched another one. “What’s that one?”

  “It’s all one,” he said, sounding annoyed. “A reaper.”

  “Huh,” I wondered. “Does it have a scythe?”

  “Yeah,” he answered shortly.

  “Where is it?” I pushed.

  “Over my shoulder blade,” he said, sounding resigned now, as if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was about to ask him a half a million questions and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Do you like the color purple?” I asked out of the blue.

  “No.”

  “Do you know anyone that has horses?” I continued.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Are they near here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you ask them if I can ride one?”

  “Why?” He was curious now.

  “Because I’ve never ridden one before, and I want to. Plus, nobody that I know has any, or knows anybody that has any. What’s this friend’s name?” I asked.

  “Ace Valentine.” He paused. “But he’s back in Kilgore.”

  “Ohhh,” I paused. “That’s a brother of one of my dad’s friends, I think. Is his sister’s name Georgia?”

  “Have no fuckin’ clue,” he admitted.

  I grinned inwardly.

  “Do you think that the current president will pass a law that says nobody can come into this country without one of those little chip thingies? I read an article a few weeks ago that said an employer had planted a chip thing in their employees’ hands that was like their ID card. I don’t think that I could do that for an employer,” I chattered.

  He sighed. “That shit would never fly. At least not with the current population. Who knows what’ll happen in twenty years.”

  I shivered. “How long have you lived here?”

  “About a year.” He sighed. “Are you ever going to go to sleep?”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged and then rolled over onto my belly. “I have to pee.”

  He growled under his breath.

  I took that as permission, and then crawled over him seeing as there was a wall on one side, and there was a pile of clothes the size of Manhattan on the foot of my bed.

  I chose to go for the smaller hill of his body—i.e., his legs—and scrambled off, only to come to a stop when I felt a furry body against my toes.

  “She’s not going to eat me, is she?” I questioned.

  “No,” he grunted. “If she was going to eat you, she would’ve done it yesterday when we came in here.”

  I swallowed and stepped around her, not understanding the importance of his words until I was seated on the toilet and doing my business.

  “Just ignore the fact that I forgot to close the door,” I called, embarrassed now.

  He didn’t reply.

  I finished my business—thank God I hadn’t turned on the light like I normally did—then washed my hands.

  Moments later, I was crawling back into the bed, trying not to touch him at all.

  It, of course, didn’t happen. The man was huge, and I had short legs.

  I brushed against him the entire way up and then fell back over to my side of the bed before pulling the blankets up over my head.

  “Don’t you turn on the heat?”

  “Yeah,” I paused. �
��When it gets too cold in here that my fingers go numb.”

  He snorted. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly? Because I like cuddling up under a blanket. I only wish that I had a fireplace.”

  “My new place has a fireplace,” he offered up that information.

  “Really?” I asked in excitement, which promptly died when I realized that him having a new house meant he wouldn’t be living in his apartment much longer.

  “Kind of.” He paused. “I have three that I’m interested in. I’m trying to decide which one I like best.”

  “You’re looking at houses?” I asked, sadness rolling through me.

  “I am,” he agreed. “I want one that I can fix up. It has to be in the country with a lot of acreage. At least forty acres. I also want it to have a wide front porch, and a long distance—at least a mile—spread that I can shoot. Though, that I could probably do if I cleared some of the land.”

  “So, no actual rules on the house. Mostly about the land you’re living on,” I surmised.

  “No.” He grunted. “And all three that I’m looking at aren’t exactly what I’m looking for.”

  I rolled over and got up on my knees, then reached for my phone on the nightstand.

  To do so, I had to press my naked thighs against his back, which didn’t go unnoticed by either of us.

  I quickly felt for my phone, and he sighed before reaching for it and handing it to me.

  I grabbed it out of his hand and fell backward only to practically choke him with the cord.

  “Sorry,” I apologize as I unplugged it and tossed it out of the way.

  He grunted.

  “Not that I’m complaining that you’re here, but why are you here?” I questioned as I opened my phone.

  I quickly typed in ‘land for sale Hostel, Texas’ in the search bar and hit go.

  Instantly about forty-five sites popped up, and I clicked the first one.

  Doing this, I was unaware of the hesitation on Parker’s end, mostly because I was immersed in something I loved to do—looking up houses for sale.

  I loved real estate. I loved the home building process. I loved remodeling. I loved everything there was about houses, remodeling, buying property, and anything that had to do with the three.

  At least as long as it was on television—or I wasn’t actually having to do any work, that was.

  “I watched a show yesterday on HGTV,” I told Parker, not noticing that he hadn’t answered my earlier question. “The man wanted a garage and mancave. The Property Brothers built it for him. It was fan-fucking-tastic. Honestly, when I think of you, I think of a big barndominium. One that you find a pole barn and then make it yours. I don’t see you as a house type of guy.”

  Then I clicked on some property that was sixty acres. “Do you want a pond?”

  “Yeah.” He rolled over, seemingly intrigued now. “Why?”

  “This one has a pond,” I showed him my phone.

  He moved closer, and the light off my phone lit up his bearded face.

  He looked sexy and sleepy, and oh so touchable.

  His hazel eyes were twitching as he read under the photo about the land.

  “Eight-acre pond. Holy fuck.”

  “Is that big?” I questioned.

  He nodded. “Huge.”

  I pulled my phone back. “It’s about twenty minutes outside of town. We should go look at it.”

  I threw the covers off and started to climb back over him, but he caught me before I could make it all the way. Then, surprising the daylights out of me, he practically threw his arm and leg over me and told me, “Stay.”

  I blinked, surrounded by his big body, and couldn’t find it in me to protest.

  Then I bit my lip and tried not to sigh as I snuggled deeper into his body.

  I knew he wasn’t doing this because he wanted me close, but damn, I could sure pretend!

  The longer I stayed there, warm and protected, the heavier my eyes became.

  The questions still burned on my tongue, but I didn’t voice them.

  Instead, I kept my mouth shut, snuggled until I found a more comfortable spot—with my face between his pecs, and my mouth inches from his hairy chest—and sank even deeper into him.

  He practically had his arms wrapped around my head, but I didn’t care. It felt nice.

  And honestly, with the way the dreams were kicking my ass lately, I felt safer than I had since the day I’d seen the aftermath of a sick serial killer.

  As my eyes closed, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep, I came to the conclusion that this would have to be repeated every single night.

  Every. Single. Night.

  I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Chapter 10

  If I speak up, I’m going to cuss.

  Parker

  “Oh my God!”

  I sat up in my Lay-Z-Boy chair and stared at the wall.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  I stood up.

  “It burns!”

  I walked out of my apartment, pulled out my keys, and then walked into hers.

  On day four of my breaking and entering, she’d handed me a key as I’d left for my run the next morning.

  Now I just walked in as I pleased during the night—which was almost every night over the last two weeks since she still had nightmares, and I couldn’t let her go through those alone.

  I hustled to the bathroom only to see Kayla half wearing a pair of sweatpants.

  She had a tube of something red in one hand, and a mini-lipstick wand looking thing she was using to smooth the lip shit on.

  I’d seen my sister use it so many times that having it so near me right now brought back memories of my sister.

  Until Kayla started to curse up a blue streak.

  “Oh my God. I can’t feel my lips!”

  I frowned and looked at her. “Why can’t you?”

  “Because this Lipsense shit is burning them off!” she whined. “They feel like they’re bleeding. Are they bleeding?”

  I looked at her lips. “No.”

  At this point, my heart had slowed back down to manageable levels, and I finally took in the fact that her sweatpants weren’t her sweatpants…but mine.

  “Where did you get those?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer because she was busy trying to blow off her lips with her hairdryer.

  “I would think if you’re wanting something to stop being hot, you wouldn’t want to blow it off with a hairdryer that blows out hot air,” I drawled.

  She turned the blow dryer around and shot me right in the face with it.

  I blinked, my eyes automatically watering at the feel of the air being forced into my eyes.

  “Sorry,” she apologized. “But Jesus Christ. I feel like something is burning them. Like I smeared a hot jalapeno pepper onto my lips.”

  “How do you even think of these things?” I questioned.

  She shrugged, then sighed. “It’s stopping. My God. It feels so bad. I’m never putting that on again.”

  “What’s so special about it?” I wondered.

  “The fact that it never rubs off,” she tilted her face “And that apparently it’s the cool thing to have right now.”

  I grunted. “Cool thing to have my ass. What’s so special about it?”

  “It’s Lipsense!” she cried. “Are you sure my lips aren’t bleeding?”

  I looked at her lips. “No, should they be?”

  “No!” she cried out, then frowned.

  “Why are you still putting it on then?” I continued to push.

  “Because I got it from Cheyenne, Janie’s aunt, for my birthday yesterday. I didn’t want to be rude and not put it on, so I thought that I’d try it on right before I took a shower. Then I’d take a picture and send it her way to make it look like I actually cared…which I don’t. But she doesn’t need to know that,” Kayla rambled.

  I just sho
ok my head. “If I don’t like a gift I’m given, I don’t use it. Simple as that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Tell me, what gift have you been given that you’ve hated?”

  I thought about not telling her what it was but then shrugged. It didn’t matter whether she knew or not. I didn’t need to pretend with her.

  I’d seen her at her most vulnerable—in the middle of the night trying to fight back her nightmares—she wouldn’t condemn me for a stupid gift that I refused to take.

  I watched as her happy, upbeat attitude deteriorated almost before my eyes.

  “It was a shirt my mother made me. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen in my life, and I refused to wear it or even look at it,” I admitted, remembering how bad I’d felt and how her face had fallen. “But, sometimes the truth hurts.”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes, like around the holidays, it sucks. That’s all. My grandmother used to make me feel like I wasn’t all alone but…then she died, too. Leaving me with nobody.”

  “You have James and Janie,” I pointed out.

  She turned to me. “It’s not the same.”

  No. I agreed. It sure the hell wasn’t the same.

  And never would be, not until you had a family of your own again.

  Right now, the only person I had in this world who was truly mine was Gunner. Gunner, whom I hadn’t gotten to attend anything with me holiday-wise since Jett’s passing.

  Not that I could blame him.

  It’d already sucked balls before without his mother and mine. Then, Jett was born, and we all went through the pretense of giving Jett something normal.

  But then Jett passed, and our normal was not so normal anymore.

  “On that, I agree with you.” I paused. “But it’s still nice to spend time with people for the holidays.”

  “Usually, I do.” She paused. “When my grandmother was still alive, I’d spend them with her. But after she died, I moved into Janie’s house and spent Christmases with them. And have ever since…it’s just…I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. Like I’m there, but as a friend, not part of the family. And I know they always try to include me…but I’m the only odd duck there.”

  “What do you mean?” I questioned.

  She put the last little dab of lipstick on her mouth, then shoved the applicator back into the tube as hard as she could.