Losing Seven (Falling for Seven Book 2)

by T. A Richards Neville

  A pillow of smoke bloomed above Rebecca’s head as she pressed up to the glass railing. It was the first time I’d seen her indulge in the habit. It was a waste of lung space, especially since no weed had been burned. Just straight up poison and toxins. “Didn’t have you pegged as a smoker.”

  “That’s funny, because I totally had you pegged as a jackoff.” She tilted her head to see beyond her shoulder, plucking the cigarette from her sarcastic mouth. “And I was right. You exceeded the expectation.”

  “I do hate to disappoint.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and turned her face away.

  I glanced down at my bare feet, at Dog lying across the threshold lapping up the cool floor and blocking the exit. I watched Rebecca fill her lungs and pollute the air. It felt like each exhale was to get under my skin and piss me off. The kind of dumb, rebellious shit she’d do at home to annoy her mom, or my dad.

  I couldn’t give less of a fuck if she toked on an entire tobacco farm. But unexpectedly, it boiled my blood there was some punk kid back in New Jersey who’d treated her so poorly.

  “You’re worth more than community dick. I wasn’t laughing at you, Rebecca.”

  She puffed a thin stream of smoke over her shoulder, flicked the roach over the balcony. From her profile, I saw her look down, toward the floor. “What about your girlfriend? What’s she worth?” Her eyes candidly slid toward me, chin tipping up. Straightening and turning with arms folded in front of her chest, sweater slouching lower over her bony shoulder, she asked me once more, “What’ll it be, Julian?”

  The million-dollar question, and the answer was easy.

  “She’s worth everything,” I said.

  Boston, Massachusetts.

  Four Weeks Later…

  I t was my first time inside the Boston Harbor Hotel, for an event or otherwise. Transitional mood lighting bathed the ballroom overlooking the wharf in violet and blue, extravagant bouquets in even more extravagant vases decorating each round table. Through the floor-to-ceiling panel windows, the sky and harbor projected the same shade of blue as the hidden lighting panels. Luxury white yachts bobbing on calm waves and a gray soaring skyline.

  I didn’t notice Angel’s approach until I felt her beside me. An arresting image captured in the glass windows.

  “I missed all this before,” she said to our reflections. “How lovely Boston can be. I was too angry with myself then, but life looks a lot different when you go through it willingly.”

  The regular football season was over, and January was looking bleak. I had a full night ahead of me. Hours to spend with people I didn’t know, and some I hadn’t met before. Of course, my family was here—old friends. But I had to put the hours in, that was the whole point of a charity gala. And these were my charities. Per my request, anyone not directly involved with the foundations wouldn’t have that knowledge. I silently donated thousands, overlooked projects, and showed my face when time allowed it. Which wasn’t often, since I was based in Miami now.

  I dragged my thumbnail under my jaw, working an itch that ran deeper than skin—burned to the vein. The midnight blue tuxedo felt unbearably close, the classic bowtie cutting off my circulation.

  Except I knew it wasn’t the tuxedo imitating claustrophobia.

  “Come outside with me?” I eased Angel a downward glance, raising an eyebrow in hopes she wouldn’t fight me.

  The pad of her right thumb rubbed the skin on the inside of her left wrist. In a soft voice she said, “Okay.”

  I captured her hand in a firm grip and led her to the staircase, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the room. These people could wait for ten or fifteen minutes. What I needed to get off my chest had waited so long I was turning putrid.

  Outside, we strolled along the secluded ramp to the guest pavilion at the water’s edge. Other than well-placed solar lights and draped faux ivy, the interior was empty. A dome roof and a mosaic of tile-shaped windows, the wharf could be seen from every angle. A private sanctuary for intimate weddings, or some other special occasion.

  I stood center floor and slid my hands into my front trouser pockets. Angel’s black slinky floor-length gown nestled to her curves with scrupulous precision. Dark hair gathered behind straight, defined shoulders. Pearls in her ears to match the pearl straps on her dress. No chunky necklace or showstopping bracelet. Angel’s polished caramel skin looked just as good without it. Better.

  I could look at her all night. The next morning… afternoon. The day after.

  The rest of your life.

  Dipping two fingers into the collar of my shirt, I tugged at the crisp cotton. Cleared my throat and then dropped my hands back to my pockets. We were here for a reason.

  “Do you know what I really hated about Jordan Grayson?”

  Angel crossed her arms loosely in front of her. The wintry air circulating the pavilion was a few degrees colder than outside, and I unbuttoned my jacket to drape over her gently shuddering shoulders. It was a shame to cover any of her up, but her freezing wasn’t a viable option.

  She held the tuxedo jacket together with both hands inside the material. “What did you hate?”

  “How he strung you along and played you like his fiddle. Kept you hanging until he decided when it was time to cut you down. I didn’t like that, and I didn’t like how you let him.”

  I talked over the glassy sheen rising behind her eyelids. The deep swallow that rocked her entire upper body.

  “I hated how he made you wait. Manipulated every one of your moves—the negative thoughts about yourself. I detested that he had so much control over you, dictating when you lived your life because he had you on constant pause.”

  Another swallow and Angel’s gaze anchored to a safer perspective—the windows. Heeled feet started across the stone floor, a fine trail of black sweeping after her. I followed outside, to the roped chain between the pavilion pathway and the water. It felt like snow, the air was that crisp. It had that icy fresh smell, too.

  A chilly breeze swept Angel’s hair from where it was tucked behind her shoulders, whipping it in sheets and ribbons. My eyes drank in the subtle movement of her lips, the increasing chatter of her teeth.

  “I think I’ve developed a sixth sense for this kind of thing.”

  I studied her profile in the distant harbor lights. The high tilt of her chin and full, round mouth. The elegant curve of her neck and the natural arch in her eyebrow.

  “Like, I know when something bad’s coming. It’s that feeling, you know. Right in your stomach.” One arm appeared from between the lapels of my jacket, her hand flattening over the front of her dress. “In here.” She turned her back on the harbor, to the feeble chain rope. “Do you ever get that feeling? Like dread, only worse?”

  I was responsible for that feeling.

  Espresso eyes lifted. So dark tonight, beneath a hidden moon and thick shadow. “Couldn’t you love me enough? I can’t tell what’s real lately.”

  I took one step closer, wanting so badly to hold her. To grab her by the waist and bury my face into her soft neck. “I love you too much, Angel. That’s where I went wrong.”

  She blinked. “Is it?”

  “I never ever want to deliberately hurt you. And I won’t be the reason you’re in pain the way that he was—sitting around waiting for what isn’t going to happen. I refuse keep doing it, whatever it is we’ve been doing. It’s enough now.”

  My heartrate stole first place in its own private race. Heavy under the weight of a new reality. No practice or football game could touch this sensation. I’d ruined my own night, my own future. Relinquishing the one singular, remarkable accomplishment in my life. Setting her free to be with someone else.

  But letting Angel go was a solitary eventuality. Strangling my girlfriend or making love to her, those weren’t reasonable alternatives. I’d been sailing in an ugly direction, far away from any healthy choices.

  I was also selfish and greedy.

  I stepped closer again, my arms sinking insi
de the jacket and taking Angel against my body. I cupped the back of her neck, kissed the line of her jaw when her head tilted for me, and the corners of her mouth—the tears that silently dripped from her closed eyes. Tears for me, and I planned on stealing them all.

  I held what was no longer mine for as long as she didn’t push me away. Argued with myself whether I’d made a mistake or been too hasty. I still wanted Angel. To feel her in my arms, to have her in my bed and in my life. Savor her smile that lights up my entire fucking universe.

  I didn’t want her to walk away. Not when I’d fought so hard to call her mine.

  When the tears eventually dried, and she slipped off my jacket and held it out to me, I took it. Did nothing when she walked around me. Watched her leave with regret enticing me to chase her down. Back along the harbor and into the bright lights of the five-star hotel.

  I just let her go. Taking a big chunk of me with her only time could tell if I’d ever get back.

  Breaking down the upcoming draft with Nicky had been a priority after he’d called me to say he’d be coming tonight. But wandering back into the ballroom, my mind shrouded in a divisional haze, there wasn’t a single person here I wanted to see out the night with. Or hold a conversation with. To consider dumping Angel at the end of the event working in my favor was a depraved thought I dug a mental hole for and buried alive.

  Then, through the chaos in my brain, I found that other something good I was fortunate enough to still have. Sitting at one of the tables with his head bowed and phone flipped lengthwise in his hands, wearing a tuxedo that closely resembled my own.

  There was someone I loved as much as her, and it was him. My kid brother.

  I pulled out one of the empty chairs at the table he shared with Mom. “Bored?” I asked Taj, tapering a look at the phone and the game he was in the middle of.

  “No.” His eyes remained on the titled phone screen, but he’d heard and understood me. Proving progression had snuck in with time, even when Taj dug in his heels and refused conforming to a new way of living.

  “Where’s Angel?” Mom asked with a critical gaze. “I didn’t see her come back inside with you.”

  A swift scan of the room revealed no flashes of pearl, or her face. Angel wasn’t here. I took my cell from my interior jacket pocket and dialed her number.

  “Hello?”

  I thought I heard a sniffle in her voice, but I couldn’t be sure with the piano playing in the background.

  Taj roused from his game, lowering the phone to the table screen-side up. “Where’s Angel? That’s her?” He was signing, but he was also using his voice.

  “Where are you?” I asked Angel. “You shouldn’t have left without telling me. I could’ve gotten you a car or taken you home myself.”

  “I’m taking a cab,” she said stiffly. I didn’t blame her for not feeling up for the polite chat. I’d dug my own grave, she was entitled to lay the headstone.

  “Tell me where you’re at and I’ll come get you. I haven’t touched any alcohol, I’m good to drive.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Taj said.

  I raised my free hand and signed, No. But there wasn’t much I could do about it when Coach O’Hara approached the table with his girlfriend, Elena, requesting to know where his daughter had disappeared to.

  “Seems she’s left,” my mom told him over a partial grimace. “Julian’s on the phone with her now.”

  Angel told me she was still with concierge and I rose from my seat, tucking the chair under the table to spend some time at the bar. “She’s downstairs in the lounge. She doesn’t want me to go, but I think someone should.” It was up to Angel to disclose the reasons she wouldn’t be sticking around. I was smarter than to assume she expected me to leak the news so early. So far, I’d done enough. She could take it from here. On her terms.

  O’Hara challenged me with an iron gaze. “Why, what’s wrong with her?”

  Elena reached for O’Hara’s arm with a smile intended to pacify. One of her finest and most effective qualities. “I’ll go and see her.”

  Taj picked up his phone and signed to Elena he was going down to the lounge with her. His voice had been prematurely stunted, and the cycle had begun once more. When Taj was upset—specifically where Angel was involved—he lost his voice and crawled back into himself, relying on the use of his hands as communication. As frustrating as the withdrawal could be, no one could—or should—prevent it from happening. Silence was his defense mechanism.

  “Let him go,” I said, ahead of any disapproval. “Angel wouldn’t turn him away.” Squeezing Taj’s shoulder, I excused myself and walked up to the bar to order a drink.

  “Get me one of those.”

  I ordered two more Jim Beams, heavy on the ice, and handed one off to my mom. “Gary couldn’t make it, then?” The less time spent with him the better, but it was weird he wasn’t here. From the way my mom acted and spoke, he was rarely away from her house. I hoped his excuse for not turning up didn’t involve me.

  “He’s in South Dakota leading an insurance conference. Why isn’t Angel here?”

  The female singer was announced to a round of applause from everyone but us, and the pianist tapped out the first drowsy keys of an old song I couldn’t remember the name of. Guests began cluttering the dancefloor. I tipped back my drink, told my mom to finish hers, and requested the first dance.

  Although suspicious of my sparse and sudden chivalry, she agreed. And in the middle of the room, my arm cradling her back and her clasped hand in mine, she pounced into action.

  “What did you do, Julian?”

  “We broke up,” I said in the most neutral tone manageable. She was going to find out once she saw Taj. Might as well let her have the forewarning to cushion the blow.

  The sway in her body declined, face painting a canvas of confusion. “You broke up? Just like that?”

  I lifted her hand, taking back leadership. The song I couldn’t remember the name of was almost over. “Not just like that.”

  “I can’t believe you. Must you have broken up with her tonight of all nights?”

  “How do you know she didn’t break up with me?”

  “She isn’t here, that’s how. And she would never do that to you. You, on the other hand…” The song drifted to an end, my mom detaching her hands from mine and running them over the seams of her red suit jacket. “I’m not done with you,” she threatened, latching onto my seconds from returning to the bar.

  “I didn’t for a second think you were.”

  The examination segment of the night was over, and I was thirsty for more alcohol when my dad and his secondary family coasted into the room. A modern-day mismatched Brady Bunch. Rebecca in a low-cut silver sparkly number, and a waterfall of pink tinted hair. Susan, her mother, covered from neck to foot in a sensible black dress. The youngest girl with the brown hair and hazel eyes that explored the room in harmless expectation. She was looking for Taj, and he’d long gone. For tonight, I’d have to do. I’d invited them to come, I’d deal with it. And not just the disappointment.

  “Your shady ex-husband’s here.” I eased my mom a subtle grin. “Should we go say hello?”

  “You say hello, and then when you’re done pretending to be nice, I’m all ears.” She slapped me playfully on the cheek, twice, her liberal smile a show of white teeth and sadistic enjoyment.

  The distance between me and them was distinctly greater than the eight or so meters I broke down on foot. Rebecca had flown into Boston with me, since she was still a freeloading lodger, but Tabatha and Susan? They were a first. And not one I’d been eagerly anticipating. A picture of Tabatha had proved more than I was ready for. In the flesh, I was obliged to accept I’d turned my back on one of my own. Something I would’ve never done to Taj.

  My dad’s chin tilted in recognition. “Son.”

  It wasn’t as if I could ignore him. He was standing right in front of me.

  “Dad.”

  Susan stepped forward, holding
out her hand for mine. When I vigilantly took it, she drew me into a stiff embrace. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to finally meet you after all this time.”

  Rebecca looked at the floor with a humorous curve shaping her mouth. Tabatha merely looked out of place, glancing at me as quickly as she did her glittery shoes.

  “Hi, Tabatha,” I said, clear of Susan and her bony grip. Tabatha twirled her fingers, glancing up at me with eyes too serious for her meager age. I crouched down on one knee when it became apparent she wasn’t going to speak to me.

  “Tabby, this is Julian. You remember I told you about him?” Rebecca bent down beside her younger sister, cupping her hair securely into her palm, shielding it from her face. “Say hello, silly. He won’t bite.”

  Tabatha elevated one more indecisive glance, her small, feminine shoulders deflating on a silent exhale. “Hello.”

  I delivered the bad news. “You just missed Taj.”

  “Oh?” The disappointment was real as she looked up at me, munching on the inside of her mouth. If I’d actually met this girl before, I’d think she was afraid of me.

  “But, ah, I could bring him to see you tomorrow. If you want… that is.”

  Taj had remained as isolated from my dad’s other life as I had. Spending time with Julian Senior here in Boston over visiting New Jersey. He’d want to meet Tabatha, though, even if he hadn’t realized it yet. Out of the two of us, I was the hostile one. There wasn’t a reason good enough why Taj shouldn’t get to know his sister.

  Tabatha nodded, mouth bunching to hide the twinges of a smile.

  “Wait ‘til he sees how pretty you are.” The shy smile swept across her mouth and I smiled back. “There’s a table over by the east window with your name on,” I said as I stood. “Food comes out soon.”

  Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Rebecca slinked off to the bar. Susan seized Tabatha’s hand and took her to find their seats.