by Emma Renshaw
When you're from those types of neighborhoods, it's all too easy to fall into that lifestyle. I was never part of a gang, but once upon a time, I was an errand boy for one of the Italian mafia families in Chicago. I'll never forget the day a senior at my school helped me when some rich pricks stole the last of my lunch money—money I needed to last through the week. It happened on a Tuesday. This was before I went through a growth spurt and filled out.
I'd sat there, beaten to a bloody pulp with nothing but a fucking quarter to my name. Luca Mancini kicked all their asses without breaking a sweat. He took me and my only friend under his wing. He gave us so much. At first he didn't ask for anything, and then it was small favors. Small errands. When my friend’s deadbeat mom had another baby, Luca gave him money to help out, to buy her things a baby needed. Next thing I knew, I'm out of the system, out of the fuckin' street, and I'm an errand boy for the Italian fucking mafia. We both owed Luca and Luca took everything we had to offer.
I had nothing to fall back on. That was my only way of making a living. The only way I could eat and not sleep outside. Now that I'm out of that life and away from it all, I want to show these kids there are options. Options I didn't know I had. Options I wish someone told me about. I wish just one good person cared. It was too late by the time I realized Luca fucking Mancini groomed me for a life of crime.
Since I walked away, I've lived a mostly clean life. I just have a few blips, some areas that I consider gray instead of black and white. Those things have been few and far between. If someone I care for is messed with, though, there isn't anything I wouldn't do.
"Muffin," I hear from behind me. I turn to watch Savannah walk cautiously toward me. I raise an eyebrow and my mouth flattens into a straight line. She sighs when she gets closer, grimacing. "Are you mad?"
"No, I'm used to you calling me by your ridiculous names," I say, wanting to throw her off and make her admit to her plan of forcing Tatum and I to be alone. She doesn't need to know that it worked out pretty damn well for the both of us. At least not yet.
Savannah winces right before Liam walks up, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Not about that," she says.
"Why would I be mad, Savannah?" I ask, acting confused. "Please, tell me."
Liam's lips twitch. He shakes his head, his shoulders shaking as he laughs silently. I know the girls came up with the plan and the guys just played along because they can't say no to their women. And Hudson and Kiernan are wrapped around their fingers, even if they’ll never admit it.
"Um," Savannah starts, looking around to avoid my unwavering gaze. "Well, you see, I don't know if you noticed or not, but none of us made it to The Cellar last weekend."
"No, Savannah," I say dryly, rolling my eyes. "I didn't notice as Tatum and I sat alone at a table meant for ten."
"Well, y'all didn't kill each other, so that's a step in the right direction."
"Yet," I say.
Savannah says something else, but I miss it because Tatum just walked in holding a platter. She stops in her tracks, turning her head left and right, before her eyes settle on me again. A couple steps after she resumes walking toward us, she stops again worrying her lush lip between her teeth. I wave slightly, hoping to ease some of her discomfort. Her shoulders rise and fall dramatically and she takes and releases a big breath before taking her final few steps toward us.
"Hey," Tatum says when she reaches us, lifting the platter slightly. "I brought some seven-layer dip."
I take it from her, hold it out to the side with one hand, and use my other hand to wrap around her neck. I guide her toward me and lower my mouth to hers, giving her a hard kiss. She's stiff underneath my lips, but melts against me after a second, sending my heart galloping in my chest. I break our kiss and press a light kiss to her nose, definitely not casual behavior, but whatever.
"Hi.” I speak quietly, but I can still hear the gruffness in my voice. My eyes dart toward Savannah and Liam; both of them have their mouths hanging open, staring at us. I thrust the dip into Liam's hands. "Put that on a table, yeah?"
My arm goes over Tatum's shoulders as I turn her toward my office. She looks up at me. "Was that necessary?"
I shrug.
"I didn't know we were going to tell them," she says softly as I guide her into my office and onto the couch. I sit next to her, keeping an arm wrapped around her loosely.
"They'd find out eventually." My fingers trail up her arm, over her shoulder, and to her neck. When I reach the point behind her ear, I lightly caress her skin on the path back down.
"They'll think it's something it's not." Goosebumps are popping up in my fingers wake, making my chest swell.
"That's our business." Tatum leans closer to my side, plastering herself to me before tossing one of her long legs over mine and placing her head on my chest. Not a damn thing about this is casual, but I’d rip off my own arm before asking her to move.
She laughs once as her eyes roll to the ceiling. "Right."
"We know where we stand. We'll both walk away without hurt feelings. After this is done and we're normal around each other, you annoying me, et cetera, they'll see it's okay." Tatum smiles when I talk about her annoying me, nuzzling her head deeper into my chest.
"I hope you're right." My arm tightens around her shoulders and she slings her arm over my abs. Her fingers trace patterns making my muscles clench with her light touch.
"I am." I squeeze her shoulders again, keeping her tight against me.
"You know, you've become a little chattier," she says as one finger drags up the middle of my torso, past up my neck, settling on my lips. I stick my tongue out, flicking her finger with it.
"It's you." I hug her close before standing from the couch and leaving her sitting comfortably on the soft worn leather.
"Now you revert back to your old ways. Just a few words here and there, walking away without telling me where you're going."
"I knew you'd follow," I say, looking at her over my shoulder, shooting her a wink.
"What can I do to help?" She pops up and claps her hands in front of her once before rubbing them together.
The expression on her face melts some of the ice around my heart. She looks like she’s ready to do anything I asked her to do. My fists clench. I know she’s waiting for instruction of how she can help set up. I want to ask her to help me out. My fists clench at my sides to keep my distance, we need to walk out there.
“James?” The softness in her voice when she says my name snaps me into action. I take a giant step toward her, wrapping her tightly in my arms. My lips are so close to hers that when we breathe, they touch slightly.
I weave my head and dip it to her neck so I drag my tongue up her soft skin. Jasmine fills my nose, warming me from the inside out. Tatum’s hands sneak under my shirt sliding against my skin making me want more, more, more. My arms tighten around her, pulling her closer to me. Her breasts are smashed against my chest and every soft, sweet inch of her is against me wreaking havoc on my control.
My lips leave her neck so I can kiss her. Her mouth immediately opens underneath mine, allowing me to taste, devour, and consume her. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but Tatum feels like a reward. She’s something to be cherished and worshipped. When she whimpers as I kiss her, it makes a guttural noise leave my chest.
Tatum pulls back panting staring at me with hooded eyes and her chest heaving from her deep breaths. I cup her cheeks as I kiss her lips, the tip of her nose, and her forehead. Tatum’s hands fall away from me as I take a step back to gain back an ounce of my control.
"Most everything is set up. I did it earlier. I had barbecue catered tonight; that should be here any minute. You don’t need to do anything but enjoy yourself, sunshine."
The door opens, and I expect it to be the caterers, but it's Corbin. I lift my chin in greeting. "You're early. You helping?"
He shakes his head. When he gets closer, I freeze. His eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed. He looks like hell. Corbi
n glances at Tatum and hesitates.
"What's going on?" I ask.
He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, pure anguish written all over his face. "I fucked up my knee. No surgery, but need physical therapy, and I'm out for fucking weeks."
"What happened?" I scan him from head to toe.
"Dirty tackle," he mumbles, looking down at his feet. When his eyes meet mine again, they're glassy. Fuck.
I place my hand on his shoulder. "After PT, you'll be good as new."
"Can't afford it," he says, his jaw twitching as he looks off to the side.
"We'll figure it out." I squeeze his shoulder. Not a chance in hell I'm going to let this kid slip through the cracks. Injuries in sports happen; he can come back from this. If I have to pay for every session myself, then that's what I'll do. "We'll find someone who takes clients without insurance, and I'll pay for it."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can." I squeeze his shoulder again.
He swallows. I can tell he wants to argue, but I guarantee this is a fight I can win. My eyes move to Tatum's when she pokes me in the arm. Her eyes are huge, and she's looking at me like I'm crazy. "Give us a minute, Corbin. Sit on the couch if you need a minute."
He nods, glancing at Tatum before walking off around us to the couch. Tatum leaves my office walking to an area that’s clear of people before whipping around, planting her hands on her hips, and leaning toward me angrily.
"What the hell, James?" Tatum asks, sounding pissed.
My blood starts boiling, the irritation that always rises so quickly with her coming in hot and fast. "If I want to pay his way through PT, that's my fuckin' business," I growl.
"Not that," she hisses through her teeth. "I honestly can't even believe you right now."
"What?" I grind out.
"I'm a physical therapist," she whisper yells, jabbing a finger in my chest, twice. I catch it and hold on. I damn sure don't want to be poked again.
"I'm aware."
"I could help." She pulls her finger away from me, lifting her arms to her sides, silently asking me what the hell I’m thinking.
"Weren't you listening?" I ask, now looking at her like she's the crazy one.
"Uh, yeah, which is why I," she says, motioning to herself from head to toe, "a physical therapist, said I can help with his physical therapy needs."
"He doesn't have insurance and doesn't have money."
"Okay," she says slowly. "And?"
I scrub a hand over my face. "And? Do I really need to spell it out for you?"
"I guess you do." She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her hip, flinging attitude all over the place.
"You're too expensive for him. I see my insurance bills; I know how much it is hourly. There's no way in hell he'd be able to go to your place."
Her eyes narrow and her lips roll between her teeth as her head tilts. She laughs humorlessly. "I know we're not the best of friends and really only have sex in common, but you honestly think that little of me?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"He's a kid," she seethes, leaning toward me.
"I fucking know that," I growl, leaning toward her.
"Even if he wasn't, I'd help. I'm allowed to take as many pro bono clients as I want as long as I schedule it during my off hours," she states. "Right now, I have eleven pro bono patients. That's enough to make a part-time job."
I stare at her, not saying a damn word. I didn't know.
"He," she says, pointing toward my office, "just became number twelve."
Tatum pulls her wallet out of her purse, shoving a card toward my chest. "Give that to him, will you? Tell him it's free, any time he can come. If transportation is an issue, I do home visits, as well." She walks away without looking back.
Shit.
Chapter 23
Tatum
This is a mistake. This entire thing with James. It's not a relationship, but I won't be involved with a man who thinks so little of me. Been there, done that, have the wasted years to prove it.
My face is so hot from embarrassment. I don't look up from my shoes as I head out the door I walked in only minutes ago. Earlier I was nervous to come; I didn't know how James would handle things, but then he kissed me in front of Savannah and Liam. He claimed me. He chose me. At least that's the way it felt in my stupid heart.
My heart was freaking soaring. No, it shouldn't have been. I know where we stand, but I thought he had a little more respect for me. I am a physical therapist. Here's a kid practically in tears thinking his whole life is over because he needs one, and James doesn't even look at me. Ask my opinion. Nothing. Freaking nothing.
Right before I reach the exit, James’s big hand latches onto my arm, spinning me to face him. "Yes?" I snap, trying to wiggle free from his grasp.
He doesn't let go. Instead, he grabs onto my other arm, as well, firmly holding me in place as he moves me backward until my back hits a wall, effectively caging me in.
"Please move," I say with all the courage I can muster. I hear the thick emotion in my voice. Fuck. I don't want to cry, at least not here.
His hands drop from my arms, framing my face. "Tatum," he says softly, curling my hair behind one ear. I turn my face away from his, finding a spot on the far wall to stare at. He sighs, bringing his head down to mine. "Don't leave."
"I think it's best if I go." I look him in the eye, forcing him to lift his head from resting against mine.
"Don't go," he repeats, cupping my cheek. "I'm sorry, Tatum."
It takes everything inside me not to lean into his palm.
James pulls me against him, hugging me tightly. My arms hang loosely at my sides. He squeezes me tighter, rubbing a large hand up and down my back. His scruff tickles my cheek as he whispers in my ear. "I'm sorry, sunshine."
My arms hesitantly wind around his hips. I don't squeeze him back, but I'm not completely ignoring the hug, either. His heartbeat underneath my ear calms me.
"Don't go because I acted like an ass," he says, running his fingers through my hair.
I look up at him, resting my chin against his chest. "James—"
"Please don't say you're leaving."
I shake my head. "James, I get that this thing between us is sex. I still need your respect outside of the bedroom, though. This is probably an overshare, but I've been this girl before."
"What girl?" His brow draws up in confusion.
"The one who allows the guy to treat her any way he wants to," I admit. "I don't like you or anyone else thinking so little of me."
James stiffens underneath my touch. "I don't," he insists.
I sigh in frustration. "You do on some level. You basically just told me that because my family has money, I wouldn't want to help people. That kid was breaking down in front of us, and you didn't even cast me a glance, when my job is the thing he needs."
"Fuck," James mutters, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "You're right. I'm a dick."
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "I'm what?" I ask, biting back my grin.
"You heard me." James shakes his head, amusement lighting up his eyes. He licks his lip, but I swear I just saw his lip twitch. I still haven’t seen him smile. Can a miniscule lip twitch count as a smile?
"Say it again," I prod.
"I'm a dick." James’s brows lift silently asking me if that’s what I wanted to hear. It’s not.
"Not that part." I try to tickle his sides. It does nothing. His rock-solid form doesn’t even budge. Not even a flinch.
"You're right," James says seriously. "I shouldn't have done that. I do think better of you than that. I swear."
I nod while unleashing a huge smile. You’re right are two words I never thought James would say to me. "Thank you."
"So, you'll stay?" His hands rest of my hips and his fingers dig into my skin as he asks his question. There’s hope laced through his voice.
"Yeah, as long as you don't act like a dick again."
James closes his eyes for a second as a long breath leaves his lungs. When he opens his eyes and they connect with mine, I only see relief. "I won't be a dick,” he promises.
"You're walking a fine line, Harris. I only tolerate you because I like your cock," I whisper as I poke him in the chest. I’m only joking. He apologized and meant it, I could feel how much he meant it. Therefore, I’m over it. I won’t hold it against him.
James shakes his head, pulling me away from the wall, but keeping me planted against his body. "Tatum," he says in his growly voice and his features are set in stone. His lips morph into a frown as he swallows and a muscle pops along his jaw. The creases on his forehead deepen as he stares down at me.
"Yes?" My hands slide up his chest to his neck. I knead the muscles there as I wait for him to speak.
James’s chest expands as he pulls in oxygen. When he releases his breath, it tickles along my skin and fills my nose with minty freshness. "There's a young guy I help out that really needs a physical therapist. He's a good kid, but he can't exactly afford to pay anything. He’s in the foster system and is already struggling to keep food in his belly. His fosters are worthless, unfortunately if he’s placed somewhere else, it could be even worse," he says. "Think you could help? I trust you to take care of him."
Pride and happiness radiates throughout my chest and fills my heart. I’m melting for this man and there’s no way I could stop the wishes for a future of us filling my mind. As apologies go, this may be the best one I've ever received.
James takes me to his place for the first time tonight. The past week we've spent at mine, but from now on, we are definitely coming here. He lives just outside of Austin on a piece of property I can't wait to explore.
To say I’m shocked when we pulled up to his house is an understatement—a small, quintessential ranch-style home with a wraparound porch complete with a bench swing. It's painted a creamy white with black shutters and a black front door. An immediate smile breaks across my face as I step out of the car, feeling like I’m on a movie set. His lawn is beautifully manicured with flowers around the edges of the house. A small garden sits off to the side. It’s too late to tell what’s growing there, but it looks well cared for.
