by Jenika Snow
“Thank you for the ride and for, you know, just being a decent person.”
His smile was soft. “It was my pleasure, Miss Vincent. I’ll bring your personal belongings by later this morning seeing as it is quite late already.” He made a move to get out of the car, but she stopped him.
“You really don’t need to do that, but thank you.” She climbed out of the car and walked into her building. She didn’t turn around but knew Miles wouldn’t leave until she was inside. Once in her apartment, she went straight to her bedroom and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. There was no use changing her clothes. All she wanted to do was fall asleep and put everything that was Tate Wessen behind her.
22
Tate woke up in a fog. The alcohol he’d consumed last night was still pushing through his veins with each beat of his heart. He pulled himself out of bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Day-old stubble scraped along his palm. The cold of the hardwood floor speared through the bare soles of his feet. The pictures strewn across the room caught his attention, and he stared at them for a long while. The memories of the previous night were like a sledgehammer to his brain.
“Fuck.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck, remembering the way Stella had looked after he’d said all those hurtful things. She had looked devastated when he’d told her he would never love her. That had been the biggest fucking lie of his life. All he wanted to do was love her. She consumed him fully, but like everything else in his life, he’d fucked it up. Even if Alyssia hadn’t blackmailed him, it never would have worked with Stella. There was always something in his life that would have come between them.
He stood and walked over to the picture of his mom and picked it up. She had been so young when she’d had him. There had never been a time when she wasn’t smiling at him or telling him how much she loved him. What in the hell had happened to him that he couldn’t even form a healthy relationship with the first woman that made his heart beat?
With a shameful past that haunted him, he hadn’t sugarcoated it when he told her everything. He wasn’t going to be backed into a corner by a woman he’d fucked a few times. If Stella was going to find out about his sordid past, she was going to find out from him. Had he actually thought there could be anything between them? Yes, he had actually thought that. What a big fucking idiot he had been.
Shit, he fucking loved Stella Vincent, and he’d pushed her away. He couldn’t fix this, not after everything he’d said to her. She hated him. That much had been clear on her delicate face.
There was a hard rap at his door, and then Miles was pushing it open. He held a tray in his arms topped with a carafe of coffee and a covered plate with his breakfast.
“Did you get Miss Vincent home all right?”
Miles was silent for several long moments, and by the rigid posture in his back, Tate knew there was something on the old man’s mind.
“Miles?” Tate didn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. He might have known Miles for years, but if the old man had something to say, then he needed to spit it the hell out. Tate wasn’t in the mood for this shit, not after last night and the mother of all hangovers starting to take residence in his skull.
“Why do you always feel the need to push away the good things in your life?” Miles set the tray down and lifted the lid. The scent of scrambled eggs and bacon filled the room, and Tate’s stomach churned. He wasn’t in the mood for food or Miles’s shit.
“It doesn’t concern you, Miles.” Stalking to his closet, he ripped the drawer open and pulled out a pair of track shorts and a tee. He needed to get this extra energy and anger out of his system. Staying here, where Stella’s scent saturated the room, and hearing Miles berate him wasn’t helping his mood. He knew what a major fuckup he was and didn’t need to have someone remind him, especially the man he had known for years and who was supposed to be on his side.
Miles turned around, and a scowl covered the old man’s face. “You’re right, sir, it doesn’t, but then again you didn’t see the dejected and heartbroken look on Miss Vincent’s face last night.”
Tate gritted his teeth and shoved his arms into his shirt and pulled it over his head. He slipped the shorts on and walked over to his closet and grabbed his workout bag off the floor. “You don’t think I know what a prick I am?”
He gave Miles a hard stare, but he didn’t look fazed. Tate sat on the edge of his bed and hung his head. He felt like shit, and only half of that was because of the liquor. “She needed to know, Miles. She would have found out eventually, and it was better that she heard it from me.”
The deep sigh that came from Miles was filled with emotion. Miles had seen him at his worst. He was one of the only people he could fully trust. He lifted his head and stared into tired and worn blue eyes. Miles had been in his life since Tate had gotten out of juvie.
At the time Miles had worked for a mob boss that Tate had been associated with, and when Miles’s employer was gunned down in the back of his Cadillac, Tate had offered the older man a job. Miles was as trustworthy as they came, and when Tate first started his “businesses,” he knew that he needed someone on the inside that wouldn’t fuck him over.
Over the years Tate became close with Miles and even saw him as family, the only family he had left. He had offered Miles a job that didn’t consist of waiting on him hand and foot, but Miles had turned down all offers.
“I’ve seen you with her, Tate.” It was rare when Miles used his first name, much to Tate’s disapproval. He hated when Miles called him anything but his given name, but Miles was old and set in his damn ways. He knew Miles and Stella had gotten along.
She’d kept Miles company during the day and vice versa, but right now he didn’t need a lecture. He already knew how he felt about Stella, and Miles should know better than anyone that someone as sweet and innocent as Stella didn’t need to be mixed up with a bastard like him.
“Did you tell her about Everclear?”
The question was asked almost nonchalantly, and Tate clenched his jaw. “Why would I tell her about that?”
Miles turned and stared at him with a surprised expression. “Because it will explain a lot, and then she’ll know where your heart is. She will know that there is a good man hiding behind that rough exterior.” Tate shook his head and started lacing up his Nikes. “Since you were an arrogant kid working for Stefan, you always held everyone at a distance. You think you can handle things on your own, but you know damn well you can’t. You need to wake up, Tate, because one of these days you’re going to lose everything, and I don’t mean your wealth.” With that Miles left, shutting the door behind him.
Tate didn’t move for several long minutes. All he could think about was what Miles had said. He was right, of course, but it didn’t change anything. There was no room in his life for a woman like Stella. It hurt like hell, but it was for the best. He stood and grabbed his bag off the floor. He needed a good fight to burn off his anger and self-hate.
* * *
Sweat dripped off Tate’s body and onto the mat below him. He’d warmed up for an hour, beating the shit out of a punching bag. After that he had called his fighters into the cage one after the other. During the early hours this was what happened in the octagon, when the patrons weren’t around watching the fights.
They trained at one of Tate’s facilities, but they always ended up back at the club. There was something about being in the cage, fighting and training, that was a hell of a lot better than working out in a gym.
His left eye was swollen shut and his lip was split, but he welcomed the pain because it helped to numb what he was feeling. He tried to block out Stella, but he was having one hell of a time doing so. Another fighter entered the cage, a look of apprehension on his face. Good, he should be leery because Tate was in a foul mood and the testosterone and adrenaline were pumping hard through his veins.
He wanted to cause the same amount of pain that he was feeling. He cracked his knuckles and spit out a mouthful of blood. Hi
s opponent stepped forward, and Tate let everything around him fade as he focused on swinging his fists and trying in vain to forget about the woman he loved.
* * *
Stella hung up the phone and leaned back against the dining room chair. She had been surprised that her father was sober when she called. His mood had been pleasant, almost giddy, and she knew why. She knew her father had the deed to his house back because Miles had confirmed as much when he dropped off her belongings.
Of course her father didn’t know the arrangement she and Tate had made, and she certainly hadn’t told him she had been using her body as payment for almost a week.
Her ratty sweats and holey T-shirt should have made her feel disgusting and unattractive, but who the hell did she have to impress? She went to her room and unzipped the bag she had brought to Tate’s. Taking out her clothes, her fingers felt smooth silk. She pulled out the dress she had bought when she watched the fight with Tate.
The material felt like butter as she ran her fingers over it. The delicate crystal string along the back caught the light, and she touched the strand. All she could think about was what she and Tate had done against the wall of his club while she wore this dress, and then everything they had done at his home when he’d peeled it off her.
Tears threatened to spill, and she pushed the bastards back. No way in hell she was going to go down that road again. She had spent last night crying into her pillow until she finally passed out.
Over and over she thought about how she could let herself fall so hard and deeply for a man like him. She could do this, could get over whatever hold Tate had on her. She was a grown woman, had survived brutal breakups with assholes that had treated her like shit. The only problem was, she hadn’t been in love with them.
Letting herself fall back on the bed, she brought the dress to her face and inhaled. She could still smell his Giorgio Armani cologne. How in the hell was she going to get over this?
23
Stella sat in the chair in front of her father and clasped his hands in hers. “Everything will be okay.” Stella stared at her father, trying to be optimistic.
“You’re too good to me.” Henry Vincent looked down, and she could see the fear in his face. “Especially since I have hurt you over and over again.” He cleared his throat and glanced up at her, tears swimming in his eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about … everything.”
It had been two weeks since she’d left Tate’s house. Two weeks since she had seen or spoken to him. After fourteen days she’d thought she would start to feel better, to get her life back. She might have gotten back into her routine with work, but her feelings for Tate hadn’t lessened; in fact, they seemed to grow.
It seemed that absence did make the heart grow fonder, and that pissed her off. How many times had she lain in bed, staring at her ceiling and thinking of what he was doing at that exact moment? Was he with that woman, sleeping beside her, touching her like he’d touched Stella? She cursed herself every time those thoughts came to mind because it caused her chest to ache painfully.
She couldn’t deny what her father said because it was true: he had hurt her over and over again, but he was her father and she loved him. She wanted him to get better, to be the man he had been all those years ago. “Dad, I can’t say I haven’t been hurt by the choices you’ve made, but you’re my dad and I want to help you. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetie.” He cleared his throat. “When your mother died, a part of me died with her. I was selfish and didn’t think about what my actions would do to you. I found that drinking helped numb some of the pain. I was able to block out the way she smelled like lavender and warmth or the way her voice made my gut clench because it was so melodic and perfect.” He let go of her hands and wiped the tears that were now freely flowing down his cheeks.
Stella’s belly tightened as she saw her father break down. It had been years since her mother had died, and just as long since she had seen this side of her father. Henry Vincent was a strong man that hid his emotions. Seeing the crumbled man before her made her feel like the little girl that had been so hopeless all those years ago.
She knew that in order to help her father, she had to be stronger, had to put her own worries and problems aside in order to bring her father back from the darkness that had consumed him for so long.
“I never told you this because I was so damn ashamed, but I gambled the house away weeks ago.”
Stella didn’t respond, but she knew there was shock on her face. Of course, she knew all about that, but what really surprised her was the fact her father was admitting it to her. It was the first step in his recovery, and she had high hopes that this time would be different.
“I know how disappointed you must be in me. I haven’t been a father to you in so long, and I am more ashamed than you can ever know.”
“I know, Daddy. Everything will be okay.”
“Yeah, it will now because I got the deed to the house back. I don’t know how or why, but the man that had it because of all my debt sent it back with a note telling me not to take anything for granted.” He straightened in his seat and stared at her with clear green eyes. “I know that I have a problem, Stella, and I know I need help. I want to change, sweetheart.”
Stella was crying herself now and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad to hear that, Daddy.”
He tightened his arms around her, and his voice broke on a sob. “I haven’t heard you call me that since you were a little girl. It’s good to hear.” They embraced for several minutes, and then he pulled away from her and brushed her tears away. “It’s time for me to go now, sweetie.”
Even though her father was going to a rehab facility, and she knew this was what was going to get him better, it was still hard to see him go. Over the last couple weeks he had been trying to do well. Admitting he actually had a problem had been the first step, and then when he broke down and told her he needed to get help, she knew this had to be the time when everything would change. “I know.” She stood and helped him up. He bent and grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, I wish you would let me take you. It’s only a forty-five minute drive.”
He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I know, darling, but I’m not going to inconvenience you.”
“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience, Dad. I want to help you out.” His smile was sad, but beneath that she saw determination. Her father was as hardheaded as her, and she knew he wouldn’t be swayed. Sighing, she nodded and walked him to the front door. His cab idled in the driveway, and he turned and looked at her once more.
“I’ll be back in no time, Stella, and then we can start to rebuild our relationship. I miss being your father, honey, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He kissed her on the forehead once more and headed to the cab before she could respond. He waved at her through the back window as the vehicle pulled out and disappeared down the street. It would be months before she actually saw her dad again, but even though she was sad to see him go, she couldn’t wait to see him return.
* * *
Stella took the order to the cook and grabbed two Cokes. The door at the little diner she worked at dinged as another customer entered. Saturdays were always busy, but the tips were good and she desperately needed the extra money. With her father in rehab, she had extra expenses. The hours she was working were draining every last ounce of energy she had, but the end result was rewarding.
It had been two weeks since her father had left, and although she had only spoken to him twice since then, he had sounded so much healthier and happier.
“Just take a seat anywhere, and I’ll be right with you.” Stella grabbed the two plates sitting under the hot lights and dropped them off before making her way to the new customer. Head down as she flipped through her notepad, she said, “Afternoon. Can I get you something to drink?” She lifted her head and couldn’t help the smile that curved her mouth. “Miles? What are you doing her
e?” He wore a light sweater with a sports jacket over it with one of those fancy insignias on the left breast. He looked out of place, what with all the truckers and barflies needing some coffee after a late night.
“Well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and try the city’s best piece of apple pie.”
Stella snorted. “Are you sure you’re in the right diner?”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll just take a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.”
After she set it in front of him, she noticed how he held an almost uncomfortable look on his face. “Miles? Is everything okay?” She took a seat across from him, not caring if her boss caught her. There was obviously something bothering Miles for him to have sought her out. He took a sip of his coffee.
She could have laughed at the grimace that marred his weathered face. “Sorry, it is pretty crummy coffee.” He held her gaze. “I’m not complaining about seeing you, but what are you really doing here, Miles?” Ever since she’d run from Tate, it was getting easier to put everything behind her. Of course she wouldn’t forget, couldn’t, but with her busy schedule and her father trying to get healthy, she hadn’t had much time to wallow in self-pity.
He didn’t respond but instead reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He slid it across the table until it rested in front of her.
“I know what happened and what he said to you. I know I shouldn’t be here or giving you that”—he gestured down to the paper—“but there are things you need to know.” He picked up his fork, his gaze still on hers. “I’m not making excuses for him, but his past has tormented him his whole life, and it made him do things that he wouldn’t have done if things had been different. He won’t admit it, but ever since you left, he’s changed. His anger is consuming him and making him the person he has always hated.” He speared the prongs into the pie and brought it to his mouth. After he swallowed and took a drink, he stared at her pointedly. “I’m not asking you for anything more than to go to this address. Find out who Tate Wessen really is.” With that he stood and laid some money on the table. “By the way, the pie here is horrible.”
