by Nicole Dykes
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Undone
Book 6 of The Monroe Family Series
by Nicole Dykes
Copyright ©2017 by Nicole Dykes
Published by Nicole Dykes
No parts of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Note from the Author
Thanks
Chapter 1
Shriller
Five months later…
“D
amn, Shriller. I’d say you are definitely ready to get back on a bike,” my physical therapist, Amy, says in the personal gym that’s located in the basement of my L.A. beach house.
When I fled back to California, the first thing I did was hire Joel Wasserman to be my new manager. It was a smart move. He did everything he said he would. He hooked me up with Amy, who comes to my house three times a week. He setup some interviews with ESPN and a few racing magazines. He even booked some modeling gigs to pay the bills while I work on getting back to racing.
The thing is, I can’t seem to talk myself into getting on a bike or going anywhere near a track. Joel has even offered to get me in contact with Mitch Adamson, who was a top dirt track racer twenty years ago. He was hurt during his heyday, but got back to it quickly and went on to win national titles. He’s since retired and now helps poor fuckers like me. I’ve made every lame excuse I could think of not to call him, but I’m running out of them.
I rub my knee with my hand as I take a seat on the lifting bench. “Yeah, I just want to make damn sure I’m totally healed first.”
Amy gives me a bright smile. She’s fucking hot, I’m not going to lie. She’s blond and has a tight little body that she is always showing off in her tight spandex outfits. She makes her way across the room and slides her arms around my neck, standing behind me. “Your body is strong, believe me.” Her lips graze my ear and her voice turns husky as she says, “Last night proved that.”
Oh yeah, and last night, like a total asshole, I fucked her. Guess I should have mentioned that, already. Her lips go to my neck and she leaves soft kisses. I need to stop this.
I reach behind my head and grab her hand, slowly guiding her to stand in front of me. “Look, Amy, about last night…”
“It was incredible. I mean I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t expect that.” She’s beaming.
Christ. She’s still holding onto my hand and I subtly, at least I hope so, pull it away. “It was really great, but the thing is…” Fuck. Don’t use the word mistake. Women hate that shit. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
That’s a better way to put it right?
Amy’s hands fly to her hips as she stares me down. “What the hell do you mean it shouldn’t have happened? You sure didn’t think that way when you were fucking me all over your living room last night.”
I grip the back of my neck, trying to figure out the best way to handle this. Clearly, I’m not great at these sorts of fucked-up situations I let my cock get me into. “Amy, look I don’t want to give you a lame explanation, okay? You are my physical therapist, we work together. Sex never should have been involved and I’m sorry.”
Her hands go from her hips, to folded over her chest. “You mean you didn’t mean to fuck someone that you will have to see again.”
Exactly. I don’t agree with that out loud though. I’m not a total idiot. “It just can’t happen again. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship right now.” Or ever. I add, cautiously, “I understand if you want to quit.”
She scoffs at that. “No fucking way. I’m not giving up a nice paycheck just because you can’t control your dick. And if you think you can fire me, think again. I’m a private therapist, which makes me your employee. If you fire me, it’s sexual harassment and I’ll sue.”
Well fuck. I just keep making great life decisions. “I’m not firing you. I just mean if it’s awkward, I would understand you not wanting to stick around.”
“Oh, I'm sticking around.” She grabs her bag and starts out of the room and up the stairs. I follow behind her as she storms to the front door. She pulls it open and turns to me angrily, “You have no idea what you are missing out on, asshole. And no idea what you got yourself into.”
I try not to flinch at the threat. As she hauls ass out the door and down the walk, she brushes past my friend, Jax, who is walking toward my house.
What the hell is he doing here? Shit, he looks pissed. That’s not really something you want to see with a guy as massive and intimidating as Jax.
When he reaches my door, I don’t get his usual happy greeting. It’s a gruff, “So you are alive. You better have a damn good explanation, motherfucker.”
“Jax, what the hell are you doing here?”
“That’s not an explanation,” he says as he brushes past me and into my house.
Jax is family. He’s welcome any time, but this isn’t going to be a fun visit. I close the door behind him and walk into the living room where he’s made himself comfortable on my brown leather couch. I take a seat in one of the matching chairs, but don’t say anything yet.
He eyes me from across the room. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Where the fuck have you been, asshole
? It’s been five fucking months since any of us have heard from you. You flee in the middle of the night in July and then don’t call or text. It’s December. What the fuck is that?” He’s seething. I don’t blame him for being pissed.
“I’ve been busy, man.” Lame
“Busy? Fucking busy? You can’t respond with a simple, ‘Hey, I’m alive,’ or hell I would’ve settled for a, ‘Fuck off.’ If it weren’t for Twitter and the ESPN interview you miraculously had time for, we really would have thought you were dead. And then, your ass missed Thanksgiving two weeks ago.”
“Hey, I sent Brooke a text.”
“The day after, shithead.”
I had a ticket bought, but I couldn’t get on the plane. I couldn’t see her. So, I spent Thanksgiving with a bottle of Jack Daniels and made myself send Brooke a quick text at two in the morning saying I couldn’t make it. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“She set a place for you at the table. The kids just stared at it the whole fucking dinner. You know what it’s like watching fucking orphans stare at an empty seat that should have been filled? Those kids have been through hell.”
Fuck I’m an asshole. “Shit. I’ll apologize to Michael and Gabby.”
He just shakes his head at me, nearly shaking with rage. “Not just them. Fuck, it was Cassie too, and even Luke. They lost their parents, young man. In a sudden, tragic accident. They let us in, and we have a fucking responsibility to them now. We are their family, and we show up. That’s the deal.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. Even though I moved to California, I made it to every holiday and back to visit as often as I could. I don’t know what to say.
Luckily, Jax does. “Look, I know you didn’t grow up with a family. I grew up the same way. It’s something we have in common. So, there’s a learning curve with all this shit, but you don’t get to use your past as an excuse to be an inconsiderate asshole. I know you care about those kids.” He pauses briefly and then asks, “So, you gonna tell me what the fuck happened with Alex that made you decide to blow off everyone that cares about you?’
Fuck! Even hearing her name sends a jolt of pain in my chest. My mind races back to that night in her guest room. I told her I thought I was in love with her and she told me exactly what I told her to say and what I’d say if the situation was reversed. That it wasn’t real. She wasn’t in love with me.
I had never said those words in my life. I’ve never felt like I was in love before. I knew I had to get the fuck out of there. When I made the decision to leave, I thought I could walk away, clear my head and then have things go back to normal. By the time I left Alex standing there with tears running down her face, screaming at me, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
I came back here and tried like hell to get my life back, but there isn’t a day I don’t wake up thinking about Alex. It’s pathetic I know and I’m working on it. Seeing her again or anyone that reminds me of her isn’t going to help.
I look at the man I consider one of the best friends I’ve ever had and I don’t know how to explain any of it. Or I just don’t want to admit any of it out loud. “She didn’t tell you anything?”
“No. She went MIA for a little bit there too. By that I mean a couple of days, like a normal person. All she would tell anyone, is that you packed your bags and left to come back here. I stopped asking after the fifth threat to remove my balls and make me eat them or some shit.”
I actually half grin at that. Sounds like Alex. “Well, if she doesn’t want to talk about it, I don’t think it’s my place.”
“Bullshit. Don’t do that. You are both my friends and you both matter. Something happened. We all can guess that one of you fell for the other one and that other one blew it off. What no one else knows, but me, is that you were the one that fell. So, what happened?”
He knows me too fucking well and figured out my feelings for Alex before I did. “She told me it was an illusion, and she was right. We were living together and having sex. She was taking care of me, none if it was real. As soon as I got back here, it wore off.”
He sees right through my lie and of course, Jax being Jax, he calls me on it. “Sure, that’s why you didn’t respond to any calls or texts from anyone in the same state as her for five fucking months.”
“I’m handling it.”
“Do better,” he shoots back, then drops the pissed off snarl and replaces it with a smirk. “You aren’t getting rid of us that fucking easily. We’ll hunt you down.”
Apparently. “Where are you staying?”
Jax looks around, grins, and gives the answer I was expecting. “Right fucking here. Where else?”
I laugh for what feels like the first time in five months. “Sounds good, man.”
He wasn’t kidding when he said I grew up without knowing family, but a few years ago when he and the Monroes came into my life, I learned quickly what family is. Now, I’ve let them all down.
I have to find a way to fix it and never do it again. That means I have to find a way to be okay being near Alex again.
Chapter 2
Alex
A
heavy, muscled and tattooed arm swings over my waist and in my foggy, post-sleep haze I’m transported to five months ago. I take the hand in my own and examine the knuckles. Nope. No number 24 etched in ink.
I smile at the memory of Brooke and I going with him to the tattoo parlor our sophomore year of high school to get his racing number tattooed on his right hand.
The idiotic smile quickly disappears as sadness flows through me at the thought of my very last memory with Shriller. Me crying and screaming at him in this very apartment and him walking away. Everything changed that night.
“Morning beautiful,” Chris whispers softly in my ear as he presses his hard body against my bare back.
When Shriller left, I admit I went to a dark place for a little while. I was so confused and angry and thought about calling him a million times, but I never did. Everything we promised each other went right out the window. I can’t call and talk to him any time without it being weird. I can’t talk to him at all. The worst thing is, he didn’t just bail on me. He bailed on the entire family.
How could he do that?
I’ve never felt guiltier in my life than I did at Thanksgiving dinner at Brooke and Dylan's house this year. Shriller didn’t show, and I listened to Gabby and Michael ask the entire time where he was.
I’m starting to feel like I didn’t know him at all.
I turn around to face Chris, who stayed over for the first time last night. Right after Thanksgiving, I let Brooke convince me to ask him out on another date. It was time.
With Chris, there is no bullshit. No games. He’s sexy and confident and he knows exactly what he wants. I know from our first date that what he wants directly corresponds with what I want. Commitment. The real deal.
We have only been on three dates, so no real commitment talk has been made other than that, but it’s going in that direction and I couldn’t be happier. “Good morning,” I say as I snuggle up closer to his impressive body.
He’s got a carefree, happy grin across his face as he brushes the hair out of my eyes with one sexy swipe. “I had fun last night.”
I laugh, “Of course you did, you got laid.”
He chuckles at that and nods his head confidently. “Hell yeah, I did, and it was fucking fun.”
I smile and bite my bottom lip. “Yes, it was.” I mean that, the man has some serious skills in the sack.
“I gotta get to the shop, but you wanna meet for lunch?”
See, no games. We slept together last night and instead of giving me some lame, ‘I’ll call you,’ he’s a fucking grown-up and sets a date to see me again.
Maybe this is exactly what I was looking for. My ex-fiancé, Stephen, was just a little too uptight and let’s face it, vanilla for me. The other guys I dated before were too immature or emotionally crippled. Chris could very well be in the sweet spot.
I kiss his
lips quickly and nod my head. “I would love to go to lunch with you.”
He climbs out of bed and starts gathering his clothes to get dressed. He has a seriously nice ass. He looks over at me, staring at him like a horny housewife, starved of sex. “You ogling me?”
I swallow hard, and my stupid heart skips a beat when he says that word. Shriller was always accusing me of “ogling” him. Damn. What the hell is wrong with me? I shake it off the best I can. “Yep.”
He slips his underwear and jeans on and then quickly slides across my bed and leans down, giving me a sweet kiss. “Good. See ya around noon?”
I nod, feeling my lips with my fingers where his lips just were.
“Admit you were jealous,” my voice demanded while my face moved closer to his.
I felt his finger tracing along my bottom lip. “It does annoy me that his lips were the last to touch these lips.”
“Make it right then,” I challenged.
I snap out of the memory from after my first date with Chris, which Shriller eventually admitted made him jealous. Seriously, I may need to seek professional help. I am here with what could quite possibly be the most perfect guy in the world for me and I’m having Shriller flash backs. That’s just plain stupid.
He stands up, puts his shirt on, and leaves after a quick goodbye.
I need some time with my best friend before work. I haven’t told anyone what actually happened with Shriller and don’t intend to, but I can tell her about my date last night.
She thinks Chris is great, so I know she can help push me in the right direction.
After I shower and dress, I make the short trip to the burbs, to Dylan and Brooke’s house. Luke is walking out with Gabby and Michael as I’m walking to the front door.
Gabby gives me a big hug around my waist and Michael gives me a quick nod. Luke looks like he’s in a hurry, but stops at the halfway point between the house and the car. “Hey, what are you doing over here?”
It’s fucking cold this morning and I can see his breath floating in the air. “Hoping to hang with Brooke before work. Why are you taking the kids to school?”
“I’m freezing my balls off,” Michael, who has turned into a full-fledged teenager and well on his way to being a Monroe man, complains to Luke.
