Blast from the Past (Men of Severn #2)

Chapter Three

Shane Blake

I shouldn’t be able to hear her voice above the music, the loud conversations, and the laughter in the bar, but I do. I hear it as clearly as if she had whispered into my ear in the dead silence of the night.

It takes me a split-second to react and turn around. A fist connects with the side of my face and instead of going down like I am sure this asshole expected, all I do is flex my jaw. My vision clouds red and I charge at Zane. What the fuck is he thinking?

This is my brother’s bar. I will rip him limb from limb. I get in three good shots before Wesley and Drew pull me off him. I roar to the heavens, my blood beyond boiling. It was bad enough to see him and Mercy chatting like they have known each other forever. But to disrespect me by hitting me in my brother’s bar, a place he knew he wasn’t welcome, with a sucker punch no less. I will rip his goddamn head off.

I watch as two of the regulars help him up from where his slumped, bleeding form lays sprawled, and lead him out of the bar. My brother and his employee hold me back because I allow it. I try to calm the fuck down before I do something stupid.

But then I see Mercy standing behind the bar, breathing heavily. I can’t stand the thought of any man being near her, especially Zane. Was she interested in him? Would she let him touch, hold, kiss her? The thought of his hands on her has my anger boiling over and cruel words falling from my lips.

“This is your fucking fault,” I bellow pointing at her, blaming her for something I know is not her fault.

“What?” She looks shocked.

The band has stopped playing and everyone is watching the scene play out with rapt attention. This will be the talk of the town tomorrow.

“It’s always been this way. You do whatever the fuck you want and the rest of us have to deal with the fallout.”

She looks like I slapped her. All the color drains from her face before she squares her shoulders. I know the look in her eyes, and she isn’t going to let me get under her skin. No, she is going to make my life a living hell. We’ve done this dance before.

Bending down she scoops up her handbag and walks around the bar counter until she is right in front of me. Her gaze sweeps me from head to toe and back again, disgust clear for everyone to see, before she turns to Wesley.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning for my shift,” she says to my older brother. “As for you, Shay. Grow the fuck up. If you can’t treat me with some fucking respect, then stay the hell away from me. I’m not your problem, your temper is. And it always has been.”

I stare at her, my chest pumping up and down as I try to get my breathing under control. “You. Don’t. Work. Here,” I say lowly. “And I told you not to call me that.”

“If I’m not missing something, Wesley is the owner, and he offered me a position. He needs the help.” She glares at me. “Severn is my home too and I’m not leaving again, so you better get used to it.”

I watch her as she walks across the dance floor toward her friend Lisa. They speak for a couple of moments before they hug, and she walks out of Blake’s. What a fuckup. The only woman I have ever loved, and we can’t fucking stand each other.

****

Mercy West

Thank God Severn is a small community and as safe as they come. It’s past midnight when I leave Blake’s and walk home. My temper got the best of me, and I may have made some hasty decisions in my anger, but Shane has always had a way of pushing my buttons. The man has an innate talent for getting under my skin and pissing me off to the point that I can’t think straight.

I honestly don’t know if I want to work at Blake’s for the foreseeable future, but I couldn’t let him talk to me like that. I may not be able to throw a physical punch as he can, but I can hit back verbally. I also have a knack of letting my temper get me into situations I rather wouldn’t be in.

I hate that we have become these people.

Angrily, I wipe at an errant tear. He used to be my favorite person in the whole world, my safe place in a chaotic universe, and the one I told all my secrets to. And now we can’t even be civil for five damn minutes. How sad is that?

The house I grew up in is about ten minutes from the bar and I walk at a leisurely pace, enjoying the fresh night air. I need the time to help me clear my mind and get rid of some anger. Thank God it’s summer or I would be freezing my tits off.

I feel a sense of unease sweep over me like someone is watching, but when I look around there is no one to be seen. Two cars are parked outside an apartment building and a big-ass caramel-colored pit bull is sleeping peacefully beneath a massive elm tree behind a high fence. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, so why do I have the sudden urge to run?

“Too many horror movies,” is what my mother would have said, and I chuckle at the memory of her. She was probably right but that doesn’t stop me from speeding up a little. I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally make it inside my house and lock the door.

This entire night has been a waste. Now I need to go to sleep. I strip down until I am naked and fall into bed not planning to move anytime soon. It doesn’t take me long to pass out and fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. But it doesn’t last.

Groaning, I turn over in my bed and listen to someone banging loudly on my door.

“I’m coming!” I shout before kicking my feet in a mini-tantrum.

Slipping from my bed, I grab an oversized and well-worn t-shirt from the chair in the corner. Pulling it over my head, I pad barefoot down the stairs and over the old forest green rug into the hallway and to the front door.

“Someone better either be dead or dying for you to wake me up at this godforsaken hour,” I grumble as I unlock and pull the door open.

I stare at the man sitting on my porch steps.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Awesome,” I say sarcastically. “Now go home.”

I wait for him to stand. When he doesn’t, I pad out onto the porch pulling at the hem of the t-shirt before sitting beside him. My legs are kicked out in front of me and crossed at the ankles to avoid flashing my pussy at Shane, or anyone else that may be out around this time of night. Silence envelops us. But it’s not weird or even tainted with anger like I expected it to be. It’s just like it always was. Me and Shane. Comfortable but tense, not that it makes a lick of sense to feel both at the same time.

I stare at the house next door, the same house the Blake boys grew up in and where I spent half my childhood. Wesley and Karmen live there now. Not that it matters who lives there—all my memories remain the same.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks after a minute, drawing my attention back to him, his gaze locked on my barely covered thighs.

“Well, if you must know, I was sleeping.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I sleep naked. This was the first thing I grabbed before I came downstairs,” I say, fighting a smile.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles rubbing a hand down his face. “What if it was someone else at the door?”

“Who else would come knocking at this time in the morning, Shay?”

“Fuck if I know,” he says before standing. He looks at me, his gaze traveling from my disheveled hair to my probably makeup-smeared face, to my bare legs and feet. “For what it’s worth, Mercy, I really am sorry.”

And then he walks away, never letting me reply.