Chapter 15
PRESLEY
“I’m going to miss this,” Shaw said, his eyes glued to the yard. “I forgot how nice it is to do nothing and relax.”
His profile was toward me, highlighting the straight line of his nose and his square jaw. I’d forgotten how it felt to like someone. How it felt to crave someone.
I would miss this too.
We’d started this as a fling but it had morphed into an eye-opening experience.
Shaw had reminded me how it felt to be touched.
How it felt to be kissed. He’d reminded me how it felt to race home so excited to see another person that you stood beside the door, bouncing on both feet, practically coming out of your skin until finally they arrived and it was the best part of your day.
Saying goodbye this week would be brutal, but I was grateful he’d come into my life. Shaw had shown me what I’d missed with Jeremiah, what our relationship had lacked—passion, trust, friendship. He’d shown me what to expect down the road when I was ready to date again.
It would take time.
Shaw had stolen a part of my heart and I was planning on holding on to the piece I’d stolen from his, just for a while.
Since he’d told me about his father, our conversations hadn’t been heavy. We’d spent most of our time hidden away in my house, mostly in my bedroom. He’d been so busy that our hours together had been limited. Tonight was the first time he’d come over before midnight.
So we were on the deck, drinking a beer and doing nothing. We were simply together.
Relaxing.
That was not an easy concept for me to grasp or practice.
I’d spent my childhood walking on eggshells. Even after I’d moved to Clifton Forge, it had taken me a long time to calm my constant nerves. They hadn’t truly settled until I’d lived alone. With my roommate—now landlord—I’d been on my best behavior, making sure I’d tidied up at every turn.
After she’d moved out, I’d kept it up because that was how I’d lived my life. Then one day, I’d left a pan in the sink to soak. Normally, I would have scrubbed it clean, no matter how long it took. Instead, I’d left it and gone to work.
I’d nearly had a panic attack that morning and had come home at lunch to clean it up, but it was the first time I’d let go a little.
That was harder to do with another person. What if they saw my flaws? What if I messed up and was punished or hated? Maybe the reason Jeremiah and I hadn’t worked was because I’d been too focused on perfection.
Or maybe he was just an asshole.
Asshole. Definitely.
Shaw had broken through my defenses and left me untethered. To the past. To my insecurities. To expectations.
He was leaving in five days, so why hold back?
I hadn’t, and I was better for it.
“Thank you,” I said.
He looked over. “For what?”
“For being perfect.” I’d been so rude and cold to him at the beginning, but he hadn’t given up on me. He was still here. He’d trusted me with his skeletons, and I was learning to trust myself. If I wasn’t perfect in every way, he wouldn’t leave.
“I’m not perfect, Presley. I’m just a man, flawed like any other. The perfection is an illusion.”
No, that wasn’t right. He was perfect because he saw his flaws. Because they made him human. He embraced them. Owned them.
He’d shown me it was okay not to fear my own shortcomings and their consequences.
“Then thank you for being kind.”
Shaw’s forehead furrowed. “How else would I be?”
“Unkind.”
Until I’d moved to Clifton Forge, I’d known mostly unkind men. To this day, the jerks were easy to find.
“We don’t talk about you,” he said.
“No.” I turned my eyes to the yard.
“Why?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t like my story.”
It was not a movie I’d want to see.
Shaw reached over with his free hand and rested it on my elbow.
There was no question behind the gesture. He wouldn’t pressure me into talking about my past. He told me without words that if I wanted to talk, he’d listen.
With the few days I had left with Shaw, I wasn’t going to waste them with ancient history. I had a family, one he’d already met at the garage. I’d found them the day I’d started working there, and Draven had been the father I’d needed.
While Shaw had taught me it was worth trusting a man in a relationship, Draven had taught me how to trust a person, period. He’d shown me that unconditional love was no myth.
Draven had loved his children, and I liked to think he’d always lumped me in with them as an unofficial daughter. Draven had loved his wife. I’d never met Chrissy Slater, but Draven’s love for her was undying. It was so strong, I loved her, a stranger, because he’d loved her.
I missed him.
I missed my sister.
I’d miss Shaw.
I was tired of missing people.
A sting hit my nose and I rubbed away the threat of tears. I’d been doing so well, seeing Shaw for all the good things he’d brought to my life. But he was leaving. He’d disappear and the only place I’d see him was on screen.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Who was the worst costar you ever had to kiss?” I blurted, wanting to change the subject.
Shaw squeezed my arm, then brought it back to the armrest of his chair. “Dacia.”
“Really?” My jaw dropped. “I would have thought it was the time you had to kiss Aquaman on Saturday Night Live.”
“That clip will haunt me forever.” He chuckled. Both huge, handsome movie stars had cringed afterward and laughed hysterically, trying to regain composure to deliver their lines. “But no, it was Dacia.”
“When?” I couldn’t remember them being in a movie together. “What movie?”
“This one. I didn’t want to kiss her because I wanted to kiss you.”
“Oh.” I blushed.
This man could deliver a compliment. I mean, Dacia was Dacia French. I was just . . . me. But Shaw Valance wanted me.
“Does it bother you?” he asked. “Me kissing other women?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
He grinned. “Good.”
The doorbell rang and I hopped out of my chair.
“Expecting someone?” Shaw asked, standing too.
“No.” When we got inside, I set my beer down on the end table beside my couch and walked toward the door.
Shaw stayed back, hovering close to the wall so he wouldn’t be seen, but he was close.
I stood on my toes to check the peephole and my stomach dropped. A face I hadn’t seen since I’d ripped his picture out of my frame waited on the other side. No.
What was he doing here?
I unlocked the door and opened it, staring at my ex-fiancé’s face.
“Hey.” He lifted a hand.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Jeremiah?”
“Can I come in?”
Was he high? He didn’t live here anymore. “No.”
Shaw’s heat hit my back and Jeremiah’s eyes went wide, tipping up an inch. Shaw had inches on him, and Jeremiah wasn’t short at six feet tall.
Jeremiah studied Shaw, recognizing him instantly. There was a gleam in his eyes, something I’d seen around town whenever anyone spoke of the stars visiting Clifton Forge. It was that greedy lust when you wanted to be associated with someone powerful and popular and rich.
I focused forward, not turning to Shaw. He’d let me take the lead, though I felt his anger radiate from his chest to my shoulders.
Jeremiah’s lip had a dried gash in the corner. It had matching friends on the bridge of his nose and through an eyebrow. Were those from Leo? How badly had Leo beaten him up if they hadn’t healed yet? That had been over a month ago. Or had Jeremiah gotten into another fight since?
The pity I normally would have had for him was long gone. His bruised and battered face wasn’t my problem anymore. So far, we’d heard nothing from the Warriors about retaliating against Leo, and I was holding out hope it would vanish, but I didn’t like seeing Jeremiah back in town.
“Can we talk for a second?” Jeremiah’s gaze darted between me and Shaw. “In private?”
“No,” Shaw and I answered in unison.
“Come on, Pres.” He dragged a hand through his hair. The brown locks were longer now than they had been when we’d been together.
Jeremiah was wearing a black leather Warrior cut over a rumpled white T-shirt. His jeans were dirty at the knees, and it looked like he hadn’t slept. His motorcycle was parked on the street.
I hadn’t seen him since two weekends before the wedding. I’d gone to Ashton to sign the lease on the apartment, and we’d gone to dinner together that night. I’d decided not to sleep over because I’d had packing to do.
He’d been so handsome in the restaurant. It wasn’t a fancy place, but the light from the window we’d been sitting beside had made his hazel eyes dance and his smile glow. I remembered thinking, my God, I’m marrying him.
The man on my porch was nothing like that handsome man who’d, for once, bought my dinner.
Maybe he’d never been that handsome in the first place. Had Jeremiah’s lips always been that thin? His shoulders weren’t as broad as I’d remembered. He was lanky and not in a good way. There was no grace or fluidity to his movements.
Had he changed that quickly? Or were my rose-colored glasses finally off? Maybe I was finally seeing what everyone had told me all along. Jeremiah was not worthy.
Granted, I’d been sleeping with Shaw Valance, so my standards had changed drastically as of late.
Take that, Jeremiah.
“Pres, come on. Five minutes.”
“You had your chance to talk to me. You had years to talk to me. But you didn’t. You avoided everything.”
“So did you,” he fired back.
“You’re right, I did. But I didn’t do it to hurt you. I never would have hurt you like you hurt me.”
“I apologized.”
“And I don’t care. You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” He pounded a fist on the doorframe, then caught himself. “Please.”
Shaw stiffened, inching closer. The rage roaring at my back was ready to rip Jeremiah’s head off, and I had a feeling he’d do far more damage than Leo could have dreamed.
I placed my palm on his bulging thigh, hoping to calm him with a touch as I spoke to my ex. “Goodbye, Jeremiah.”
“I just need to borrow some money and—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I seethed. “You get nothing from me. Nothing. Don’t come here again.”
“Presley—”