Burn It Down (The Burn Series Book 2)

by Dee Ellis

  “Stop. Heartache is making you look at me that way. Finn,” My eyes blinked in the darkness as she steadied me against her truck, “Tell me when you look at me, or those bitches, you want more? That you don’t see Gigi’s face and compare every other woman to her.” Damn, she was smart and I kind of hated that I was so transparent.

  “I don’t see anything but Gigi anymore.” I growled as I tore open her door and started to climb in.

  “Exactly what I wanted to hear, handsome.” Charli winked up at me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  We drove in silence, but it was peaceful. I didn’t think I’d have taken anyone home tonight, like I hadn’t since Gigi. Still, I was glad Charli showed up when she had. Those bunnies tonight were handsy as shit. I was too wasted to stop it.

  I kept calling the one with hazel eyes Gigi, even though I hadn’t bothered getting their names. Why would I need them? Charli’s radio played broken hearted country, and I thought about her and Cage back home in her tiny town in Iowa. How they had mended what could have been ruined for good.

  “I don’t know how to not want her, Charli Doll. Spent more of my life wanting Gigi Cooper than not. Fighting it because of Cage and Deacon. My own fucking shit, really. Tell me how to fix it.” My voice was tight with emotion, and her hand came out, taking mine. Her little hand was warm and soothing and soft.

  “Hmm, I intend to, Finn. Man like you, needs a woman like Gigi. Too bad it took you so damn long to realize it, huh?” I gave her tiny hand a squeeze and nodded, swiping at my tears. They never fucking ended.

  “Don’t I know it, Charli Doll. I always knew Gigi was amazing. Before I should have noticed her, I did. Then, I was too much of a coward to do things right. Does…does your man hate me right now?” I left in a shit way earlier, but I was worried about us for more than one bad night. Cage was all I had left right now.

  “Of course not. Cage loves you like family, Finn. He’s worried about you. You know the Coopers are stubborn, though. Didn’t want me to come find you tonight; told me to let you stew. Just not how I do things.” Charli gave my hand her own little squeeze, and I let out a breath, relieved she seemed to think we’d get past this.

  We pulled up in front of the condo and I didn’t want to get out. I was terrified of seeing Gigi. Of smelling her in the hallway or hearing her laughter.

  Charli climbed out, and then my door was open and her gray eyes were watching me. Waiting. I sighed and scrubbed my hand over my face. Shit, I needed to shave. To shower. I felt like I couldn’t breathe lately, so those weren’t top priorities for me.

  I climbed out and followed her up the stairs and let her into my place. I paused at the threshold, listening for signs of my woman. My woman. No matter what, that’s how I saw Gigi. Had for longer than I even realized. Charli let out a soft sigh and put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “Gigi’s at my place right now, handsome. Come. Sit. We need to talk.”

  Without hesitation, I sank into the leather recliner as she breezed past me into the kitchen. Moments later, I smelled coffee and knew Charli meant business. I liked her.

  Charli was good for Cage; made him happier than I had ever seen him. I didn’t even know that kind of happy existed. Besides his parents, of course; I thought that shit was only in books.

  Then I got a chance with Gigi, and I thought, well shit, it must be a Cooper thing. Maybe not, though; maybe it was a Dixon thing. Or a Holmes thing; Gwen sure had done a number on Deacon. The same could be said of Charli and Cage.

  Maybe the magic was not in the Coopers, but the people they found. This made sense, since I had no magic to offer Gigi.

  “Here, sober up before we talk.” Charli sat on the couch across from me, tucking her long legs beneath her.

  “Holy shit,” I winced at the strong coffee she brewed us, “you do not play around. Look…thanks for earlier. I swear to God I had no plans to bring them home. Or anywhere else.” Charli smiled as she stirred her coffee, taking a long sip; strong shit didn’t even make her flinch.

  “Finn, I know better. I saw you falling for Gigi right in front of our eyes. Cage refused to see it. Gigi refuses to believe it. The Coopers have some kind of magic about them, huh?” I laughed because she had basically read my thoughts.

  “I was just thinking that. But actually, I think it’s you. Gwen. Parker and Miles too. They just have the right thing for the Coopers. It just works. Now me, on the other hand...” I trailed off and took a long pull of the hot coffee. I needed to clear my head and that cup of Joe was bound to do it.

  “You too, Finn. I was watching Gigi fall for you too, you thick headed idiot. How Cage didn’t see the stars in that girl's eyes when she looked at you, I can’t fathom. Or how you look at her like she’s the only girl in the room. It’s pretty embarrassing, actually.” Charli giggled and I found myself joining in. Damn, I really could see why Cage had been hooked so fast.

  “Well, I had something good. I should have had the balls to tell Cage. To talk to Deacon. Because lord knows he’s got to be pleased as punch I defiled his little girl.” Charli shot me a long look that shut me up, and the coffee I sipped burnt my throat.

  “Finn. Now, after you spent so damn long showing the world what a man you are, you turn into a pussy? Maybe I should have let you and the titty twins have a threesome; show the bar some girl on girl on girl action, no?” Well, fuck. I wanted to be pissed about her mouth, but I just liked her more.

  “Shit, Charli Doll. Tell me what you really think. Don’t hold back on account of my broken fucking heart.” Charli let out a snort and yanked my coffee out of my hand, spilling half of it on my hand.

  “Grow up. You broke your own fucking heart. Gigi’s too. Unlike you wearing your pain on your massive bicep, Gigi is tucking it away. Our girl is just not the same. Gigi laughs too loud, too often. Talks less than normal, which we both know is proof positive she's struggling. Every single time I see her she has just finished crying or is about to start. The girl is a fucking wreck. Which means your magic fucking worked, even if you were too God damned blind to see it. Now. Tell me, Magic Man. What exactly do we do about fixing two broken hearts?” I sighed and laid my head back, fighting still more fucking tears.

  “Charli Doll.…I am, without a doubt, in too deep over Gigi. I am absolutely, categorically crazy about her. For years, I wanted her. Wanting her was not nearly as bad as having her. I am not the same man I was before her. I am absolutely wrecked. I get what you want to do here. I fucking love that you’re so amazing, and if Cage hadn’t snatched you up first, I just might have, Charli Dixon. Truth is, I can’t let myself hurt her again. I don’t know how not to. I fuck shit up, Charli. It’s what I do.” It was true.

  Though I was a good firefighter, and I loved it, I fucked up as much as I did well. If I didn’t have Cage there, my fuck ups might outnumber the kids and kittens rescued. I didn’t think shit through the way he did. Or if I did, I never trusted the answers. Cage just acted. Just did what he thought he should.

  I didn’t trust myself that way. How could I let myself do that to Gigi? I could ruin her more than I already had. I’d spent so much of our time together lying and doubting we had a future. Wondering what the hell that even meant. Gigi didn’t, and when I saw that, I wanted to give her fucking everything.

  Instead, I lied and hid shit even more. Fuck, I wanted one of the Coopers to catch us. Needed the chance to see if I was man enough to claim Gigi when it mattered. The night we got caught, when it absolutely mattered, I proved us both right. I fucked it up.

  “Finn, come talk to me once you grow a pair, princess. Till then, I better not see you with another woman. Hell hath no fury, and all that shit. Night, handsome.”

  Then Charli was gone. Just like Cage and Gigi. I was alone, and the ache I was fighting to contain burned through me bright and fiery.

  4

  Maybe I should change my major from English to theater. I have become quite the actress in the past few weeks. Pretending that one night didn’
t splinter my fucking world into pieces. I was never certain what Finn and I were, not really. But we were. Then, just like that, we weren’t.

  Since then, I’ve done a smashing job of acting as if it never happened. Like we never happened at all. Or rather that it did--which is why I am currently pretending to hate him--but that it didn’t matter. Acting. I was becoming a fucking pro.

  Acting had become a necessity for me to function at all. I laughed when I was supposed to. Smiled more often than I probably should. Got my sobbing jags in when my dorm was empty or in my car between classes. Then smiled as if I wasn’t falling apart. I didn’t know it could be like this. Could really feel like this.

  I’ve read all the books and watched all the movies. They tell you it’s bad. Then it gets better. Or the hero makes some grand gesture and the heroine can’t refuse him again. None of the above had become my second act so I was putting on the show of a fucking lifetime.

  Before Finn, I didn’t consider myself a romantic, exactly. I wanted something; love, lust, something passionate and real. Something as all-consuming as what my parents have. My sisters had it with the men in their life, and Cage certainly got it with Charli. Guess the luck ran out with the last Cooper.

  I thought once that I was in love with Finn. Maybe I was then. Maybe I even was while we were pretending nothing was happening for Cage and Pop’s sake. Now, with no grand gesture on the horizon, and the pain that ripped through me the night I said I was done burning as hot as ever in my chest, I knew it was love.

  I was in love with my brother’s best friend and he broke my fucking heart. I didn’t think a broken heart actually hurt. My chest ached since that night at Cage’s condo. I felt like a cavern had grown deep and wide where my heart had been.

  The heart that pounded whenever Finn used to look at me from across the room. When he would edge just close enough that I could smell him; wood and leather and soap. The one that I had all but handed over to him by shoving my way into his apartment that first night. What was I thinking?

  Finn never took it, not really.

  Now I had to pretend what I had with Finn was just a temporary road stop on a journey I still had yet to figure out. Instead of the permanent home I had fooled myself into believing he could be. Charli and Cage didn’t buy my act for one second. My finals were coming up so I pretended to be too busy to deal with her gentle prying.

  Despite the truth that I had already failed one class because I hated it. The rest were going to be passing grades at best. I was miserable for more than one reason. The memory of Finn, of what we’d had and how it had burned up so fast was, of course, the most pressing.

  “Gigi...we don’t need to discuss it.” Today it was Bree, my best friend, not buying the act, “We won’t eat Haagen-Daz and guzzle wine while we binge the new season of Orange Is the New Black. Because you are so far from ready for that. What we will do is stop pretending you aren’t torn apart. Even Gigi Cooper can get her heart broken.” I glared at her because this was, in fact, talking about it.

  “Not in the mood, Bree. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe never. Let me deal how I choose to deal.” Bree let out a snort and slammed her hand on my text book, slamming it shut.

  “Honey, you are not dealing. Which is, in effect, the problem.” Bree flung her lemony hair, wavy and shiny in the sun, over her bare shoulder.

  For a moment, I hated her. That may sound extreme, but clearly, I go extreme with my emotions. Her dewy tan skin shined in the crisp November morning.

  Her tiny sweater barely contained the tits she was super proud of, and only I knew were paid for. Beneath a skirt that was too short for the weather, you could just see the garters on her stockings.

  Though she looked like an average college student on the surface, Bree was anything but. The smudge of mascara under her eyes was because she hadn’t made it in before daylight. I could still smell whiskey and the sickly-sweet smell of weed and lube.

  “Keep talking, Bree. I don’t intend to participate, but go ahead; discuss my private life that’s not only none of your business, but no one else’s either. Seems like the appropriate time, yeah?” I glared at her, and Bree blanched, her light eyes narrowing on me.

  “Jesus Christ on a cracker. Fucking excuse me, Gigi. Someone needs to get laid.” I forget we were best friends mostly because few other people tolerated us. It worked sometimes. Others, not so much.

  “Stop. Talking. Let me deal by not dealing. Please.” My voice broke on the last word as the quiet classroom started to close in around me and Bree let out a sigh.

  “I’m sorry, Gigi.” Professor Dexter walked in and her attention was drawn to him, as usual.

  I mean, I could see why. Jordan Dexter, our creative writing professor, was easy on the eyes. Tall and dark with steely blue eyes, dark scruff at his impressive jaw, and always ready with a bright smile, he was handsome.

  Younger than most my professors, he was careful to tread the line of teacher and confidant with most of us. Right now, he looked like the perfect distraction.

  I focus on his bright smile and the way he smells as he passes us. Sweet and gentle. Nothing like Finn. Jordan leans back against the wide dais in front of us. His long legs cross in front of him, the dark fade of his jeans fitting him just right. Man, he really is pretty. I shouldn’t think that about my teacher, but hey, it’s a fact.

  Those blue eyes swing my way, and I feel pinned down as he starts talking. Beside me, Bree is posing just so, her skirt hiking up as she crosses her legs to flash her garters. The slut. I smile though, because maybe if I could feel anything other than the aching in my chest, I’d be into Dexter too.

  Something about the intensity he exudes reminds me of my favorite book boyfriend, Dex. He dominates his woman, Camille, with a sexy sensuality. Dex controls her with affection and love, and when she needs it, punishment. Finn gave me a taste of that.

  As I watch Jordan, I imagine what kind of punishment he might dole out. Just like that, I can see his big hands swatting my backside as I’m bent over the dais. Holy hell. Where did that come from? Doesn’t matter; now I’m seeing those hands skimming over me, one wrapping around my throat. Digging in gently as he thrusts into me.

  “Gigi,” His rough voice, laced with heat, startles me, “is your piece ready?” Um...what?

  “No. No. Sorry, Professor.” I no sooner say it and I see his mouth hike up in a smirk. My writing piece! You nit! He was not partaking in my filthy fantasy.

  Today, I was supposed to read an excerpt of my creative writing piece. I told him last week I was ready. I had been, then. In fact, I had been ready just minutes before he walked in smelling good and looking pretty. Bree giggles beside me and smooths her hand down her thigh.

  Jordan’s eyes flickered to her, he frowned then those eyes were back on me. He smirks again, and I feel my face flush. Jesus, I am an idiot. Steering my mind from Finn and my heartbreak, I try to offer a smile back. Don’t know if it looked like much of one, though.

  “See me after if you need me.” Nice choice of words there, Professor.

  Jordan calls on another student to share their piece and I’m relieved. Until his eyes land back on me as the young man stands and begins reading. The class is engaged, laughing and listening to him weave his tale.

  I only half listen. Jordan’s eyes, the color of slate, watch me and there is no denying what’s in them. Questions and interest and a whole lot of lust. Despite the ache in my chest, the tears just waiting for a reason to fall again, I smile at him.

  I don’t know why. I’m intrigued, I suppose. Jordan and I have exchanged a few flirty smiles. Maybe one or two borderline inappropriate conversations. Nothing more. Mostly because Finn. Always because Finn.

  Even before Finn let me shove my way into his apartment that night, it was him. Though I dated a few times, I never had an actual boyfriend.

  Before Finn, my prom night and a few hot nights in the back of a car by the lake were all the action I had seen. No random hookups or friends wit
h benefits. No revenge fucks to try to show Finn I could give it as good as he could. Instead, I waited. Then Finn.

  Now....Jordan was pretty. He should be off limits, and I kind of wanted to break the rules for once. I waited for Finn for so long, my brief time with him wasn’t enough. I knew no one else would be like Finn. I would never feel that way again. I had no doubt.

  Didn’t mean I intended to never feel again. I wasn’t ready. I knew that. Two weeks ago, I still wanted Finn; enough to let him fuck me even as I told him we were done. I don’t know if I could ever not want him.

  If I even wanted to not want him.

  Right now, I couldn’t consider what that meant. I just wanted to feel something again. Something besides pain and the emptiness I’d felt for weeks.

  For the rest of class, I exchanged long looks and smiles with Jordan. When he circled the room, he came near me and I could smell his sweet scent. I wanted it to wash away my memories of Finn’s delicious smell. Fire and leather and wood and something that was just him.

  Most my clothes and some of my sheets were still heavy with it. I maybe didn’t wash some things on purpose. I wanted to torture myself, I suppose. Can't force myself to let go if I purposely hold on.

  When class ended, I lingered and Jordan came to stand in front of my desk. Once the room was empty, he reached out and cupped my face, tipping my head back.

  “Pretty girl,” Jordan’s voice was rough and full of hunger, “lost your smile lately. What can we do to keep this one where it belongs?” The pad of his thumb swiped over my mouth and I wanted to feel something. Anything other than what I did feel.

  What I felt was fear and panic. Guilt and heartache. Looking up into this handsome man’s face, feeling his gentle and wickedly inappropriate touch at my skin, I didn’t feel heat, want, and lust.

  Just guilt. Pain. I managed to fix the smile at my face as I touched his hand, gently tugging it away. I closed my fingers around his. They were smooth and slender.