Chapter Fifteen
Pacino
It didn’t take long for us to make a plan, and I need to do something before I go back to the bakery and take Phoebe home. There’s a lot we have to discuss still, but everything’s different now.
“Hey you,” Queenie says when I walk into Velvet Desire. “I was hoping you’d stop by. I can get a room ready—”
“We need to talk,” I say.
She purses her lips, but I can tell it’s hiding a smile as she nods. Leading me into the office, she sits on the desk while I lean against the door.
“Sunshine has you by the balls, doesn’t she?”
It’s not meant offensively. “Yellow Crayon.”
“Pardon?”
“I call her Yellow Crayon. And yes, she does. Unless I fuck things up with her.”
Standing, she walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m happy for you, Pacino. Really, I am.”
It’s the end of an era. And this feels so fucking weird.
“Tell Capone and Kannon you need them to help you out. They will.”
“That obvious?”
I smile and nod. “You think I can’t smell arousal? Especially with you?”
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Pacino,” she says, moving to plop down in the chair. “I’ve never experienced this before. How do you go so long without getting fucked?”
“Do you love him?”
Her gaze becomes watery, and she just nods.
“You’ll find a way to get through it. Talk to his doctors. Talk to him. If his libido isn’t getting him hard, it doesn’t mean he can’t help you out. You don’t need a cock to get off.”
“That doesn’t make me selfish?”
“Avoiding the conversation and relying on those you work with to give you what he normally does is.”
Sniffling, she nods. “What would you do? If you were in his position?”
“Probably shoot my brains out, actually.” When she smiles, I wink. “I’d want to help out my girl. If part of me didn’t work, I still got other parts. But I’d be pretty hurt if she didn’t tell me she needed something because she thought I’d feel bad.”
“What if he feels like less of a man?”
“He might. Hell, he probably will. But give him a chance to be a man and give you what you need before you start turning to others.”
Biting her lower lip, she nods and sighs. “You’re right. I guess falling for someone as cheerful as the sun makes you smarter in the world of romance, huh?”
“Something like that. I’ll see you around, Queenie.”
“Bye, Pacino.”
Ihead back to the bakery and about lose my shit when I find it dark and locked. It’s two hours before closing time, and I call Scotty, my anxiety shooting through the roof.
“Pacino—”
“Where the fuck are you?” I bark.
“At Sarah’s place. I told her this was a bad idea, but she insisted.”
Frowning, I’m ready to tell Scotty his ass is grass. “Sarah?”
“Phoebe. I don’t know what happened, but she was a wreck. Doesn’t wanna stay at your place anymore, man.”
She’s scared of my family. I didn’t really give her much of a reason to believe I could keep her safe. “What’s Sarah’s address?”
“She said—”
“If I have to track your phone, I’m going to make it hurt when I see you.”
He reluctantly gives me the address and I take off, nearly getting T-boned as I run a stop sign. But I don’t care. I need to reassure Phoebe we’re not letting anything happen to her.
Once she knows I’ll die before letting anyone—especially my family—hurt her, she can come home with me. Feeling reassured and as safe as she felt yesterday. Just like she told me when she was drunk. She was safe because she was with me.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Scotty says, meeting me on the porch of Sarah’s place. “Once we stopped at her place to pick up more of her stuff, it took nearly an hour to convince her that she can’t stay alone. Not with Ryan in town.”
This doesn’t make sense. “But you convinced her?”
“After threatening to fireman-carry her out of the place.”
“Where is she?”
He sighs and moves aside. “First door on the right. Off the kitchen.”
“Scotty!” Sarah scolds when I walk inside. “Are you going to let burglars in that easily? Tell them where the good stuff is kept, too?”
“Like you have good stuff,” he argues.
Ignoring the two of them, I walk into the room Scotty directed me to, and I find Phoebe lying on the bed. I shut the door behind me and want to wrap her up in my arms. “I know you’re scared, Yellow Crayon, but—”
“I’m not scared.”
She’s curled up in the fetal position, and I can tell she’s been crying. Poor thing doesn’t need this shit on top of her first hangover.
But the way she won’t look at me tells me there’s something going on I don’t understand. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay under the same roof as you anymore.”
Frowning, I crouch beside the bed. “Why not?”
“It’ll be for the best if we just… pretend we haven’t had sex. That we don’t know each other.”
“Yellow Crayon—”
“Phoebe. No cute nicknames. But you get what you want. I’ll call you Pacino.”
It’s the first time she’s ever said my road name. “What’s going on? What changed? Because if it’s Ryan, I won’t let him get to you. We’re going to keep you safe.”
“It’s not him.”
“Talk to me.”
“It’s just better this way.” Turning her back to me, she says, “I’ll be just fine here. When they realize I don’t mean anything to you, they’ll leave me alone.”
The words sting worse than Nancy’s slap from last night, and I don’t like any of this. It’s obvious I’ve upset her and made her think I don’t care, but I don’t know what exactly it is I did. Not if what Ryan did and said isn’t the reason she’s lying in Sarah’s guest room.
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“Please,” she whispers. “Just leave me alone.”
“Not until you tell me why.”
“Because I’m going to get hurt. There’s no other way around it.”
Color me confused. “My family won’t touch you, Phoebe. I swear it.”
“I’m not worried about them.”
“Damn it, Phoebe, just tell me! Who’s going to hurt you?”
“You.”
I freeze and stand, staring at her back as fear fills me. Did she fake it when we fucked because she didn’t really want it? Had I read the signs all wrong, and she felt obligated to me in some way? Did I hurt her without even realizing it?
But she said she felt safe with me.
“You’re scared of me?”
“I’m scared of me.”
“Baby, look at me. I don’t understand. I need you to break it down for me like I’m an idiot because right now, I kind of feel like one. Please?”
It takes a few moments, but she finally turns toward me. And when she does, tears stream down her red cheeks. I’m pretty sure having someone shove their hand through my sternum to rip my heart could hurt more than how seeing her like this makes me feel. This is my fault, but I’m not sure why.
“Phoebe, what did I do?”
She may have turned toward me, but she still won’t meet my gaze. And I really don’t like this.
“You can only give so much of yourself, and I’m falling hard. So much so that I’m letting it turn me into someone I used to be. Someone who accepts whatever you decide to give me until the threat disappears. You’ll be done with me, and then I’ll be alone. Again.”
It’s strange seeing her like this. Even drunk, she was mostly jovial. I hate that it really feels like I’m the one breaking her spirit. Maybe it would be better to have her stay with someone else. Someone from the club.
No, I can’t. She’s gotten under my skin in the best ways possible, and I can’t let her go.
“That’s not true.”
Sniffling, Phoebe gives me a sad smile. “If we keep spending time together, I’m going to fall in love. And you… can’t.”
“Says who?”
“You.”
Fuck. She and Sarah were standing right behind me as I fought with Ryan. Before I kicked his ass outside. “Phoebe—”
“Please, Pacino. Just leave me alone. I can’t risk it.”
I run my hand over my face as I try to figure out how to play this. How to get her to believe I was lying to my brother. And myself. “Can’t risk what?”
“I don’t know that I can get over you if we keep going. But I’m more scared of losing myself in the process. Even though I’m a lot to handle for everyone else, I like who I am. It took me a really long time to become her, and it took even longer to say I loved myself.”
There is so much more to her than anyone knows. “You didn’t love yourself?”
Shaking her head, she wipes her nose. “I can’t lose the Phoebe I’ve become, and I’m already starting to see her slip away. So did you.”
“Yesterday,” I say with a sigh.
I can’t stop thinking this has something to do with her tattoo, too. But she’s right. She’s been slipping away.
“Yeah. And now today. I can’t lose me. I’m all I have.”
“For the record, I like who you are, too. And I don’t want to lose her.”
“So you’ll leave me alone?”
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
A sob escapes, and she covers her face with her hands. “I can’t keep doing this. You can’t fall in love. That I might be able to get past, but you don’t care about me at all. I’m just someone you can screw.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why would you say something like that?”
“Because you did.”
My mouth drops open. I did. I did fucking say that. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did,” she says, finally looking at me. “And it’s okay. It’s better to learn now than when it’s too late. But I need to protect myself. I don’t like who I’m turning into.”
She sobs into the pillow, and I can’t take it. “Please, don’t cry. It’s not true. I would die for you, Phoebe. It was just something I said to get Ryan to leave you alone because I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt. Especially because of something so senseless.”
“You keep me at a distance. You only give so much, and I need more.”
“Phoebe—”
“The nightmares,” she whispers. “I haven’t had the nightmares in years, but they’re back. You come into the room you have me staying in, take what you want, and then abandon me. I have a difficult past, and I have abandonment issues.”
My stomach twists as I can only imagine what caused them. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s easier when I’m alone. When there’s no one to twist me up like you do. And I’m not mad at you, Tucker. I’m not,” she whispers as more tears fall. “But I have to save myself. I learned a long time ago that no one else will.”
I can’t take it anymore. This feeling of watching her so distraught makes me itch so deep under my skin that I’d have to rip it all off to scratch. I can’t name this feeling, but it’s vaguely familiar.
“I will save you, Phoebe. I won’t let you become the person you don’t like because I like the cheerful version of you. My Yellow Crayon. The sunshine to my storm cloud.”
“Please—”
“I can’t leave you alone. I couldn’t even if I tried. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you, and I need you in my life, Phoebe. When the threat disappears—and it will disappear—you aren’t getting rid of me. I promise.”
Sniffling, Phoebe wipes at her face. “I don’t understand.”
“I promise to give you more. I just… Come home with me. I need you in ways I didn’t think I needed anyone.”
“Like how?”
She’s really going to make me work for this, isn’t she? “I like how you ask about my day. And then you tell me about yours. You want to know me, and you don’t let my grumpy demeanor deter you. I look forward to just seeing you. Being near you. You really are like the goddamn sun.”
“Really? You always seem pretty annoyed by it.”
“That’s kind of just my normal personality. I’m annoyed by default. But not with you. I want to know you, Phoebe. More than that, I want you to know me.”
“Then I need you to give me more than just snippets. You keep me at arm’s length, and it’s why I don’t think you’ll let me in enough to make it worth it. I’m scared you’ll change your mind, and it’ll be too late for me.”
Letting out a deep breath, I look into her eyes. “I’ll tell you why I said I can’t fall in love again. I’ll tell you how I got my scars, and you’ll be the only person besides Capone who knows about Jo.”
Phoebe’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“I’ve never told anyone before, but I mean it, Phoebe. I want you to know me. I need you to.”