It’s just that I’ve gotten so used to Vincent being solid and steady that it surprises me that he’d break a promise. It’s no big deal, just weird.
“You look like someone killed your kitten,” Bee grumbles the next morning as she takes a seat at the table and eyes this morning’s offering of cheese toast.
I’m following the doctor’s meal plan to the letter, and while it seems weird to feed her so little, he’s assured me it’s all about giving her what her body needs, in portions she can handle.
“Vincent didn’t call last night,” I admit, biting into my own toast. “Hmm, this is actually quite good.”
“Yeah, if you’re looking for a fat, cheesy ass.”
“Hey, I’m not that out of shape that a little cheese will turn me into a cow,” I mutter, giving her a glare. “And you could eat three freaking cows’ worth without worrying.”
“Sorry,” she mutters tiredly. “Eric called my cell all night. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“You answer?”
“No,” she says, scowling, obviously offended. “I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. It’s just hard. I wanted to hear his voice so bad.”
I know how she feels. At one point last night I’d considered calling Vincent myself but had nixed that idea quickly. If he’d wanted to talk to me he would have called himself, and I refuse to come off as the desperately insecure girlfriend. Even if I’m feeling that way.
“I know, it’s just better this way. A clean break is much better than listening to him whine.”
One of the reasons I’d made her promise this is also because I’m afraid that if he tries hard enough, Bee will crumble and go back to him, full of hope and empty promises.
“I know. I just hate being alone, and…I miss him, as icky as it sounds. He wasn’t all bad, Sis, and no matter what you might think, Eric really does love me.”
Yeah, but not enough not to hurt her or convince her to hurt herself. I don’t say it because, while I’m going hard on her, I know that one day does not cure her of this mental morass she’s gotten herself in.
“I know, Bee,” I say, taking her hand in mine and squeezing softly.
“So he didn’t call you, huh?” she asks, changing the subject as I watch her struggle through breakfast.
“Nope. I waited till after midnight. Maybe the time difference and…” I shrug, not wanting to talk about my hurt. “Something really weird happened yesterday too. His half-brother walked right up to me outside your shrink’s office and started throwing around hints about Vincent not being a good guy.”
“No shit. He go into detail?”
“Nope. But I got the distinct feeling he was testing the waters with me. He gave me a card and said he be there if I ever needed help or something. It was just weird.”
Bee pushes her empty plate away and takes a sip of her juice, regarding me thoughtfully for a few minutes.
“I don’t like this. It sounds like this guy is either trying to use you to stir Vincent’s kettle or there’s something about your guy to be worried about.”
I’ve considered this and tossed the thought. Vincent is a lot of things, but I know he’s no danger to me. He’s in danger for standing me up, but that’s as far as it goes.
“Vincent’s not like that. He can be a dick sometimes, but he’s not into hurting his women. No, this guy was laying the ground work for something else. I was going to tell him last night, but he never called.”
“Just…just be careful, Sis. You’ve seen what a guy can do. I’m a classic case of a woman who’s been mind-fucked. Don’t end up like me because you fall in love with the guy. Please.”
I don’t say anything, just nod and squeeze her hand back. I can’t say I’d never end up like her if…oh God, there’s no if about it, I am totally crazy for Vincent Blake and I know it.
But this I know for sure. If he ever messed with me I’d make him hurt as much as I was. And then I’d turn Daddy and Mama on him. He’d be lucky to walk away from me in one piece.
Chapter Twelve
Five days and ten almost bloody chewed nails later, my phone rings, and I squeal when I see Vincent’s name flash on the screen. I take a deep breath and let it ring three more times before answering. A girl’s gotta keep her pride.
“Hello.”
“I need to see you.”
Wow. And here I’d been expecting his husky drawl and maybe an apology for the last five days without so much as a text.
“Oh really? And here I thought you were done with me after the cold shoulder treatment.”
Okay, so I am pissed off and hurt that he’s been ignoring me. I’m no clinger, but come on, a text wouldn’t have killed him.
“Sissy—”
“You know what? I actually defended you to that slime ball of a brother of yours a few days ago. He was trying to warn me off, and I told him to take a hike. I guess he was right after all; you are an asshole.”
“Dove.”
“If this is the way you conduct your relationships, you can take a hike, buddy. I don’t play mind games. I told you that the first day we met. I like things honest and open. Keep your money and the one landscape I’ve finished—”
The line goes dead, and my heart sinks before cracking down the middle. Huh. That had gone really well, for him, and I laugh, thinking how easy I’d just made whatever break-up speech he’d been about to spin me.
I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t hurt. I’d expected at least a token fight, thanks to his arrogant, possessive nature. I guess he’s just done, though, and happy to be let off the hook so easily.
So much for the six months he’d insisted on.
The tears I feel welling are squelched ruthlessly, and I stand, going up to the eyrie with one intention, getting rid of Vincent. It’s as I’m pulling the first one off the easel that I lose the battle and fall to my knees, allowing the tears to fall and coat my cheeks.
“So fucking much for love.”
My cell rings again, and this time I’m angry and ready for him.
“I told you to leave me alone!”
“You did this, you fucking whore.”
Eric, and from the sound of it he’s decided to blame me for his messed up relationship. Thank goodness Bee has gone out with Jill, a friend from college, and isn’t here to hear this. She’s fragile and not ready for this. I, on the other hand, am having a really bad day, and I relish the thought of putting at least one asshole in his place.
“No, you did this, Eric,” I snarl, staring at the portrait of Vincent and feeling my anger deepen.
Men are such bastards, and if I can’t have a go at the man who’s hurt me, I’ll take what I can get with this one.
“I’m not the one starving my girlfriend to the point she’s losing hair. I’m not the one who told her she’s fat and unsophisticated. You did that. Count yourself lucky her brother isn’t on your doorstep with that violent temper of his.”
“You set your rabid-ass boyfriend on me, you stupid slut. I lost my job yesterday thanks to you!”
He’s yelling, and I know that if I was anywhere near him right now he’d probably resort to physical violence.
“What?”
It dawns on me then what he’s saying. Vincent got him fired? How? When? And why would he even bother if he’s done with me?
“Your little English prick called my boss yesterday and got me canned. I know you did this, and I promise you, you and that whore will pay for it.”
“I did no such thing, you slime ball. If you come anywhere near me and Bee, I swear, I’ll let Jeff Parker kill your useless ass!” I scream, flinging the portrait at the wall.
“You better be prepared, Sissy.”
The call goes dead before I can curse him out, and I slump back feeling drained and unaccountably afraid. I’ve come to understand that Eric Brennan is capable of a lot more than the schoolboy adoration and shy teasing he’d done in the early days of knowing him—just look at what he’d done to Bee—but this phone
call sends shivers down my spine.
And I no longer have the safety blanket of Vincent, my own personal knight, to keep me feeling safe and secure. It scares me that Bee and I are alone and at his mercy.
He has the codes the security company had given us when they’d installed the system, so the first thing I do is call them and have them come over to change them.
When Bee and Jill walk in I’m on the phone with my father and reassuring him that everything’s fine. Seems the guy who owns the security company is in Daddy’s pocket, and he’d called him a second after ending my call.
“Yes, Daddy, it’s no big deal, just a precaution. No, Daddy, I swear everything’s safe and all right. I’ll see you soon, and tell Mama I love her too.”
“What’s going on?”
I turn to Bee, feeling like crap but needing to get things in place for her, our, protection.
“Eric called earlier and threw around some threats. Seems Vincent didn’t take his treatment of you too kindly and got him sacked. I just got the security codes changed, and I think you should go down to the police department and get a restraining order. Just in case.”
Her knees give out, and Jill grabs her, lowering her trembling form to the sofa.
“Sissy, I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t be sorry, Bee, be mad. That asshole is taking things too far, and I refuse to be afraid of that little worm. Now get your coat back on. We have an appointment with a restraining order, and I’d really like to talk to you about calling Jeff.”
Jill leaves, even though she seems reluctant to leave Bee with me. I know I’m being hard, but I can’t help needing to get things done. Especially now that I no longer have Vincent to lean on.
***
We’re at the station talking to a cop when my phone rings again. When I see who’s calling, I seriously consider turning the thing off, but, idiot that I am, I answer it and wait silently, not giving him the courtesy of a hello.
“We need to talk, dove.”
“I’m busy, Vincent.”
It’s true, but I say it to show him that I am no longer the idiot who’ll drop everything and come running when he wags his finger. Plus, leaving Bee alone right now is not a good idea. She’s just now calmed down from her hysterics and pleading not to call her brother or her parents.
I really think things are going to a place that requires more than what I can give her, but she’s insisting that Eric would never really hurt her.
I’m not so sure, but what I do know is that if that asshole gets anywhere near me he’ll definitely try to hurt me. Hence the pepper spray I’d bought on the way to the precinct.
“Dove, I have a lot to tell you, and I would appreciate it if you’d stop being so difficult,” he mutters, making my lips twitch.
Always so polite and controlled, even when I can hear the frustration in his tone.
“Fine. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow afternoon.”
“No—”
“Look, Vincent, I’m going through some shit with Bee right now. Oh, and thanks a lot for getting Eric fired. He’s blaming me for that.”
“Tell me,” he orders, and I know how annoyed he is when he doesn’t holler at me for interrupting him.
“He called this afternoon and got real nasty about getting fired. He blames me and—”
I stop and cover the mouthpiece when Officer Deidricks waves me over, letting me know he’s ready for my statement.
“Look, I have to go. I’ll come by at four.”
I end the call before he can hear the background noise of a prostitute having a go at the arresting officer, and join Bee and Deidricks. Swear to God, this has been a really crappy week, and I can’t wait for the weekend to be over so we can start a fresh one.
A half hour later we’re back in a cab and headed to a little Italian place Bee used to love. The statement and getting the order against Eric had been a relatively simple process, and I have it on good authority that Officer Deidricks will personally take care of serving it to Eric.
“I think we should just go home. Besides, I’m not supposed to eat anything but the crap on that diet plan,” Bee mutters, letting me know how unimpressed she is with me right now.
I don’t respond to her tone but sling an arm around her instead and pull her into my side. She’s taller, so comforting her isn’t easy, but I do it anyway, ignoring her stiffness.
“We are not going home to sit and stare at the door or walls. Anyway, I’m pretty sure they’ll accommodate us with a special order of grilled chicken breast and some steamed vegetables, Bee. Now stop being so grumpy and get over it.”
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just serve the man you love with a restraining order.”
No, but I’d dropped Vincent’s phone call and any chance at working things through in order to be with her, and I kind of resent her resentment. As if what I’m doing for her means nothing. As if it’s a fly in her fucking ointment.
I want to scream at her and tell her to quit her bratty whining and get a backbone, till the doctor’s voice pops into my head, reminding me that this would not be easy.
“I’m part of that shit list he has going too,” I remind her. “He’s not exactly pleased with me either. And I kind of broke up with Vincent today, so I’m not having a great time of it either, you know.”
She pulls back and groans.
“Shit, Sis, I am so sorry. Here I am complaining like a five-year-old. Is this because of me and all the time we’re spending together?”
“Nah. He’s just being a dick, so I cut it short.”
Not a good idea at the moment. For one thing, I’m bummed about not finishing the landscapes, or the portrait still standing in his bedroom, and for another, I was banking on the commission he was going to pay me.
I suspect I’m either going to have to hit it lucky and sell a few more paintings through Vern—fingers crossed—or call my daddy to float us for a month or two. I don’t want to, but I will. For Bee.
Chapter Thirteen
The rest of the day doesn’t go too badly. After a hearty late lunch and an almost painful effort to raise her spirits, I drag us both home and go up to the eyrie.
I want to pack away the portraits and start a new one, something that will consume me long enough to get over Vincent, something to bolster me for our meeting tomorrow.
“Sis, you want a cup of tea or something?”
I look down from my perch in front of my bare canvas and see Bee puttering around in the kitchen in her pajamas, her hair bundled up and messy, but shinier than I’ve seen it in days.
“Yeah, thanks. You washed your hair?”
“Yup, and I used that swanky hair mask your mom sent last month. That stuff is awesome!” she yells, and I grin when she walks up the stairs, two cups and a tub of peanut butter in her hands.
“The doc ain’t going to like you messing with stuff that isn’t in his plan,” I warn, taking the cup to sip at the hot, sweet tea.
“He can kiss my ass. If I have to get over this shit and get a lard ass I’m gonna do it eating things I like. Besides, peanut butter is a food group. So whatcha doing?”
“Trying to start a new series.”
She eyes the blank canvas and frowns, shaking her head.
“The two of us are a pathetic pair, you know that? Here we are, hung up on two idiots. We should burn their shit in a freedom ceremony or something.”
“Yeah,” I snort, flicking my eyes at the portraits I’d stacked against the wall, their fronts facing away from me. “That should really help. If we don’t get arrested first.”
“Know what I think, Sis? I think you should go see him tomorrow, with an open mind and not thinking he’s an ass. He did do me a favor, and I think…he’s nicer than he seems.”
“I thought you were warning me off.”
She sighs and licks at her empty spoon.
“I don’t want this thing with Eric to turn me into one of those nasty women who hate all men. I want to be loved aga
in someday and…I want the same for you. Stop ignoring his calls and give it a try. Don’t let my shit color your relationship.”
We both go to bed after that, even though it’s barely past eight. I’m drained and need the oblivion of sleep to stop the thoughts swirling in my head.
I don’t want to think that Bee’s right, that I overreacted the day Vincent had called because I was tripping over this mess and the power that he had over me.
I know it’s true; I just don’t want to admit it to myself. Not yet, anyway.
***
A noise wakes me, and I roll over to check the clock, groaning when I see that it’s just past two in the morning. I’d been having a really good dream about Vincent and his tongue skills, and I want nothing more than to go back to sleep and chase the sensations I’d been feeling.
I hear the noise again and mutter under my breath, flinging the covers aside. If I find Bee wandering around in the dark again like I have so many times lately, I will kick her ass. She knows how much I hate that creepy shit.
“I’m so going to kick her ass for ruining that dream.”
I grab my robe and go to shove an arm in when I hear a faint whimper and drop it, rushing to the door instead.
“You fucking bitch!”
I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of that snarl and flail for a few seconds when I hear a crash and then a curse. My bedroom door bursts open, and then Bee’s inside, locking it, shaking, crying.
“Help me with the dresser!” she hisses, and I snap out of it long enough to get my back against it, feet to the wall, and push, shoving the heavy mahogany dresser in front of the door.
“Come on, Sis, we have to get out of here. He has a gun.”
My door rattles and then starts shaking violently, and we both jump back with a scream. Eric has obviously lost his shit and means business tonight, and I’m not sure—
“Fire escape. It goes to the roof, but that should be better than standing around here,” I say, shoving her at the window.
I grab my phone on the way and turn it on, while we crawl out of the window onto the cold landing and the even icier wind. Fall in New York is not kind to a woman wearing sleep shorts and an old sweatshirt that just reaches her knees.
Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1) Page 19
