Perfect Chaos

by Nashoda Rose

  The spoon clanged in the bottom of the bowl as he set it down in front of me.

  “You have my favorite ice cream.” It was a statement more to me than him. It was a revelation that this one small truth about me—Deck knew about.

  He picked up the container, took off the lid, ripped the plastic from the top then grabbed the scoop and started dishing ice cream into the bowl. Swirls of vanilla and strawberry lay in the bottom in three large balls. He pushed the bowl toward me.

  “I’m making pasta. Eat your ice cream.”

  I stared at him then the ice cream for several seconds then slid it to the other side of the counter and sat down on a bar stool.

  I kept my head down while I ate, not sure why this was hitting me so hard. So what? Deck had known me for years, so he must have known. It wasn’t a big deal. The thing was—it was a big deal to me. Because not only did he know, but he made sure it was here for me after the shit went down. He knew it was my comfort food, and I needed comfort because what Deck was doing … keeping me on edge … not confronting me … trying to throw me off balance … It was working.

  Deck’s bare feet padded across the ceramic tiles as he moved through the kitchen, completely at ease while I was silently freaking out. He told me I could never be Chaos when I was with Deck. I was the girl who fell in love with him. I was the woman who still loved him and one day it would be my destruction. Of course, he’d say that. The guy was guarded, mistrustful and his morals were questionable, but not once had he harmed me. Even the cutting he did once a year had been something he had refused to do at first. That was until he found out Tanner had done it to me that first time and the cuts had been pretty bad. After that, every year he met me on that day.

  Deck’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You came home from school one day, dress stained with what looked like ketchup, and you had a French fry in your hair.” My spoon clinked into the bowl and I stared up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me; he was cutting up mushrooms and peppers on a cutting board with his back to me. “The pins from your hair had fallen out and it was all windblown and knotted.”

  I used to be teased for being perfect all the time. Clothes always tidy and neat, hair tied back. I was the teacher’s pet, the girl who was quiet in class and always got an A. But, often, I’d come home crying because the bullies had done something to me.

  I remembered the day Deck was talking about. A group of boys in my class waited for me to come out of the side door of the school. I always used the side door to avoid them, but they figured it out. As soon as the door opened and I saw them all standing watching me with big grins on their faces—I knew. It was too late, though. The bucket of slop came down on me from a window above. It was the cafeteria garbage, and I was covered in the remnants of the entire school’s leftover lunch. I took off crying, their laughter ringing in my ears as they chanted ‘Trashy Georgie’. It became my new nickname for the rest of the year. Even worse was that some people thought I was called that for another reason and so I was considered a slut, too.

  When I did get home, I’d stood outside the house for several minutes, drying my eyes and cleaning myself off as much as possible. I was thankful at least we hadn’t had any gravy at lunch that day. I walked in the house and saw Deck sitting on the couch playing a shooting video game with Connor, and I nearly ran back out. I didn’t want him to see my blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes.

  “I knew you’d been crying the second you walked in the door. I also knew you were trying to hide it.” Deck threw the vegetables in the frying pan and they sizzled and hissed under the heat.

  I didn’t want to talk about this.

  “Connor saw it, too.” Yeah, but it had been Deck who’d nudged him in the shoulder and drew his attention away from the video game so he’d look at me. It took two seconds for Connor to reach me. He gave me a hug and quietly asked me what was wrong. I told him I tripped and fell with my lunch tray.

  I knew he didn’t believe me, but he saw my pleading eyes and let it go. My brother was good at reading me and he knew if he pushed, I’d be a crying mess and I hated that.

  Deck didn’t. No, he got up off the couch and stalked toward me as if he was the lion assessing his prey. When he stopped in front of me, he looked down at my dress, picked the French fry from my hair and met my eyes.

  I think I fell in love with him right then. Actually, I knew I did. It was the way the warmth of his eyes penetrated me; it was as if he were wrapping me in his protective shield and nothing could get to me.

  “You got me a bowl of strawberry ice cream.”

  He nodded. “And you sat cross-legged on the chair at the kitchen table, trying to hide behind a curtain of hair. You had a smudge of something on your face just above your cheekbone.” I’d been mortified later when I’d gone in the washroom and seen what a mess I was … well, a mess to my standards, but the actual garbage hadn’t done much damage except to my emotional wellbeing. The worst part was Deck seeing me like that. “You shovelled in that ice cream so goddamn fast I swear you must have had brain freeze a million times over.”

  I did. But I wanted to eat the ice cream as fast as I could and escape Deck’s scrutiny. Even from the other room, I saw him talking quietly to Connor, but his eyes never left me.

  “What were you telling him?” I’d always wanted to know.

  “That no fuckin’ way had you tripped, and if he didn’t kick the ass of whoever was bullying you, I would.”

  But I never told Connor who was responsible despite him badgering me. A week later, they were deployed overseas.

  I never saw Connor again.

  “You were sixteen,” Deck said. “And I shouldn’t have wanted you, but fuck …” I jerked my gaze to him. He wanted me? The quiet, spindly girl who was afraid of her own shadow? “Connor saw it, too. There was just something about you … so stubborn … determined to be strong. Yet, vulnerable and fuck, babe … so goddamn beautiful.”

  He thought I was beautiful. “I wasn’t stubborn or determined.”

  “Yeah, baby. You were.”

  I stiffened. “I wasn’t.” I was a wimp. I was tortured for months and never did anything about it.

  “You were.”

  “I wasn’t, damn it.”

  “You done arguing?” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his tatted arm flexed and tense as he held the frying pan.

  “Yeah.” I was feeling shaky and uncertain … no, it was way more than that. I was totally fucked up because Deck had wanted me back then. “You never saw me like a kid sister?”

  Deck snorted. “Fuck no. Jesus, babe. I just fuckin’ kissed you.”

  “I know, but back then—”

  “No. Never. Now, go set the table.”

  I stared at his back, his shoulder muscles flexing as he stirred the vegetables, the ink on his arm catching the sun’s sinking rays through the large bay windows above the sink. I knew each one of the tatts. Over the years, he’d extended the tribal design from his elbow up to the side of his neck. I felt heat rise on my cheeks as I thought about my fingertips sliding over the contours of his arms, tracing each then kissing the side of his neck where—

  “Georgie.”

  I jerked my gaze from his neck up to his eyes. Shit, his eyes were narrowed and lips tight and Jesus, it was as if he had the reflection of fireworks blazing in his pupils. My heart sped up and my chest rose with every ragged breath.

  He was looking at me as if he’d devour me, and it turned me on so goddamn much the moisture between my legs became wet and shivers became trembles.

  “Table.” It was one abrupt word, and yet it vibrated through me as if he’d just made me come with the flick of his finger.

  I swallowed. Then I stood on my quivering legs and got my shit together because being undone by Deck was dangerous. “Yes, sir.” I saluted and winked at him, trying my best to hide everything I was feeling with my usual sass. He scowled and turned back to the stove.

  I set the table while Deck finished cooking. When I w
as done, I watched him from the other room and it didn’t help me any when the image of him naked wearing a white apron came to mind. Then he turned, caught me staring, and I felt the heat in my cheeks. Shit, he was throwing me off-balance with everything he was doing.

  He came toward me with a plate of steaming pasta, eyes locked on me.

  I licked my dry lips and his gaze followed the action of my tongue as he set the plate down on the table between us. I knew I couldn’t be wrong in that Deck wanted me right now.

  “Mmm, looks delicious.” I leaned over the table to peer at the pasta. “I didn’t know you could cook, sweetpea.”

  Deck’s eyes went from my breasts that, despite the too-big t-shirt, were accentuated with the way I was leaning and because I was turned on. I knew my nipples were showing because I didn’t put on a bra.

  He scooped a large amount of pasta onto my plate, way more than I could ever eat. “Because you don’t. Just like I obviously don’t know you.”

  Fuck. I had to steer this away from me. I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms. “And that’s whose fault? You’ve never told me anything about yourself.” I had stopped asking about his family a long time ago.

  “Nothing to tell.”

  “And I do know what type of person you are. That’s all that really matters anyway.”

  Deck snorted and shook his head while he filled his plate.

  I said quietly, “I do know you, Deck. I know you like control. That you can’t stand to be in a situation where you don’t have it. I know you organize your shirts in your closet by color. That everything has to be in order. That you have a maid come clean your place once a week and she’s here illegally and you overpay her so she can feed her family.” That little tidbit I’d had to dig for because Deck kept that real quiet. She didn’t even have a routine as to when she came—completely unpredictable.

  Deck picked up his fork and spoon and began twirling his pasta as if he wasn’t hearing a word I was saying. “How I keep my clothes and pay my maid is not knowing me.”

  “You protect me because you won’t break your word to my brother. You always tell the truth and your men are like your family and you’d give your life for them.”

  The clang of his fork hit his plate as he dropped it. “If you want to go there, we can. I was giving you time to get your shit together, but we can do this right now.”

  I put my head down and started eating my pasta. He hadn’t been giving me time. He had a method to getting answers. Shit, he tortured men for answers or he watched as Vic did it and from what I heard, he never failed.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I glanced up from the corner of my eye and saw him pick his fork back up, twirl a forkful of pasta then drop it again and shove his plate away. He got up so abruptly his chair fell over, and then he strode to the sliding glass door, yanked it open and walked out onto the large terrace.

  My body wanted to go after him, to soothe the anger pulsating from every pore in his body, but I did know Deck. I knew him well enough to know if I pushed him when he was like this, I’d push him in the wrong direction.

  I sat and waited for him to come back, but he’d disappeared around the side of the patio where I couldn’t see him through the windows. I shovelled the pasta around on my plate, starving but unable to eat any more.

  I finally cleared the table when I realized Deck had no intention of coming back to eat with me. I took my time cleaning the kitchen, enjoying the tedious task since I was silently freaking out. God, I wanted to explain everything so badly it made me sick to my stomach. I was trapped and somehow I knew this day would come, I just thought … shit, I didn’t think. I hid. Deck had left for two years. I never thought he’d come back and by then it was too late.

  I was leaning over the sink scrubbing the frying pan when I felt him behind me. Then his hands rested on my hips and I closed my eyes as the feel of him sunk into me. My heart pounded and shivers tickled my skin like the tip of a feather.

  His breath swept over the right side of my neck as he spoke, “He asked me to protect you and …”

  I knew exactly who he was talking about—my brother.

  “I finished up my two years with JTF2 after he died. The missions … they helped me grieve. They eased the rage threatening to drive me over the edge. I got out as soon as they let me.”

  He leaned in closer so his thighs were up against me. “Connor also made me promise to never touch you. His exact words, ‘Hands off my little sister. Don’t date her, kiss her, and sure as fuck don’t fuck her’.”

  My breath hitched and I dropped the frying pan into the sink, the water still running.

  “He knew I felt something for you.” Oh, God, tears filled my eyes. “Connor wanted a guy for you who didn’t have a high probability of dying. I kill for a living. I don’t have a family. And I most likely will die on one of these missions.”

  A tear slipped from its confines. “Deck.” My voice quaked, “I’d rather have you for a day than never have you at all.”

  He spun me around. “He’s right, Georgie. I’m not what you need.”

  “You don’t know what I need, damn it.” I hadn’t meant to shout, but I was falling over the edge with no way back up. I was the one who had it bad for Deck and I was going to hurt him if he knew the truth. My entire life was a lie. Except my love for Deck. That was never a lie.

  He grabbed my forearms before I could place my hands on his chest. He scowled as he looked down at me. “Connor wanted better for you. I want better for you.”

  I met his dark tormented eyes and said softly, “You’re my better, Deck.” Before he could respond, I ducked under his arm and I walked away.

  He let me.

  I FELL ASLEEP in the lounge chair on the terrace overlooking the plunge pool, but when I woke in the morning, it was in Deck’s bed with my back against his chest, his hand beneath my shirt, fingers softly stroking my abdomen. I also noticed I had no jogging pants on, just panties, meaning he must have taken them off at some point. I felt the weight of his warm, hard thigh over the top of mine and his lips nuzzled into the crook of my neck.

  I’d never felt so complete as I did at that moment. This was how it was supposed to be. Ten years of never getting this because … because each of us lived by our word. Him to my brother. Me to … Him. But keeping my word was different than Deck, I was forced to.

  And now … I had to tell him something. Deck wouldn’t have it any other way, and God, I wanted to tell him every single thing, but … I couldn’t lose him. But how couldn’t I? He’d figure it out anyway and then … I didn’t want to think about Deck ever being killed especially because of me.

  He already knew I wasn’t an alcoholic but the rest … Deck was unpredictable and I had no idea how he was going to react. It terrified me to think I’d never have this again. That this moment was going to be lost to the lies. That he’d leave, but most of all, that he’d be hurt. And I did that to him. It would be my fault.

  His arm tightened around my waist. “Your heart beats any faster, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  Of course it was. I could pretend with anyone—except Deck. Hence the drinking cover-story idea. If I was drunk or pretended to be drunk, then it relieved some of the pressure of Deck finding out what I did for him.

  Everything had changed. I had nothing to latch onto, to pull me from the inevitable despair that was coming.

  “Need answers, babe,” he whispered, his graveled morning voice vibrating against my neck.

  I was sure this was some kind of tactic. Have me in bed in his arms all groggy and snuggled into him. Shit, it was a damn good tactic.

  “Yeah. I … I don’t want you to get hurt.” In more ways than one. Emotionally because of the lies and physically because he made the rules damn clear.

  “I’m pretty fuckin’ tough.”

  I did a half-laugh and he tightened his hold on me. Who would’ve thought Deck could be sweet, but he kissed the top of my head then gently caress
ed my abdomen while his other hand slowly stroked my hair. Calm. Serenity. It was not what I had in my life.

  “Not tough enough for this.” At least I didn’t think so.

  “Georgie, this is how it has to play out. You know that. We can’t dance around this shit any longer. I know it’s big, and I know I’m not going to like it, but we deal and move on.”

  “I can’t have anything ever happen to you.” If he died because of me, I’d never survive that.

  “If you don’t tell me, I will find out. And then it will be worse.”

  He was right. I knew it and yet, I didn’t even know where to start. Maybe if I told him some of it? It would satisfy him and still keep the truth hidden, which would protect Deck against him.

  “What happened after Connor died? After I left?”

  I stiffened and turned slightly so I could look at him. “How did you know?”

  He sighed and kissed my forehead. “I don’t. But I have a feeling that whatever this is—that is when it started. When I came back you were different. Colder. Innocence gone. Harder and sassy as hell. Too much sass. I figured, it was you trying to break free from the perfection you used to live under, but you went one hundred eighty degrees in the opposite direction.”

  I nodded. Yeah, that was because I’d been broken and had to live with pieces of myself.

  His hand stroked my abdomen slow and steady and his breath whispered across my ear. “Let me in, babe.”

  I linked my fingers with his. If I told him about Robbie, maybe he’d leave the other alone and I could still keep him safe. “I was a mess after Connor died. Think you know that. I just didn’t care about anything anymore. My parents wanted life back to routine as soon as possible, but the reality was nothing was routine anymore. My mother cried all the time. I rarely talked and when I did it was … well, sarcastic and mean.” I swallowed and took a deep breath. Deck continued to stroke my abdomen, soft and rhythmic. “He was a senior at my school.” His hand stopped moving and I could feel his heart skip a beat and then pound harder. “I don’t know why he picked me … but he did. Maybe I looked vulnerable. Easy prey.” I stopped for a few seconds, hating that I had to give Deck this part of me that was weak and pathetic.