9. Danny
9
DANNY
S pending two thousand miles trapped in a car with the woman I love, who doesn’t love me back, is fucking awful. Moving her into my house and knowing that she’ll be sleeping naked in the room next to mine is worse. Knowing that sooner or later, I’m going to have to watch her date and maybe even fall in love with someone else is fucking heartbreaking.
A part of me wants to storm into her bedroom and demand she want me back, but no matter what the Barnetts think, claiming someone doesn’t work unless they want to be claimed.
When I kissed her in the airport, I guess I thought that would be it. It worked for my friends, but apparently not for me. Now I feel like an idiot for assuming she was feeling what I was. When she said all that bullshit about her being my duff, I never even considered it was just an excuse so she didn’t have to admit that she doesn’t feel anything beyond friendship for me.
It sounds conceited to admit that I’m not used to women not wanting me, but it’s the truth. But I’m not butt hurt because she dented my ego by rejecting me. I’m fucking broken because I don’t know how to move on from this.
For a moment in the airport, I honestly considered just getting up and leaving, but there was no way I could walk away knowing she was going to drive thousands of miles across the country on her own. So, I stayed. I joked, I laughed, I smiled, and I pretended nothing was wrong. Only it is wrong, it’s very, very fucking wrong.
She’s mine. I know it right down to my very fucking core, and I don’t know how to function knowing I’m not hers.
I never thought I’d feel this way, but I’m excited for her to go to work in the morning just to get some time away from her. If I could go to work too, I absolutely would, but I’m not back on shift for five more days, so instead, I’ll be the supportive friend she expects me to be, even if I’m fighting the urge to drag her into my arms and devour her the entire time.
Leaning against the doorframe of her room, I tap my knuckles against the wood, not crossing over the threshold into her space. “Hey, you hungry? I don’t have much in the house, so tell me what you fancy and I’ll drive down into town and pick it up.”
“I don’t mind,” she says quietly, her voice small and withdrawn, the same way it’s been since I kissed her.
“How does pizza sound?”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
“Pepperoni?”
Pursing her lips, she nods.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a bit,” I say, nodding once before I turn and walk away, refusing to look back even though I want to.
I breathe easy for the first time in four days the moment I start my Escalade and pull away from the house alone. This fucking sucks, but I need to learn to deal with it, or I risk losing her completely, and not having her in my life at all is unthinkable.
I don’t call in the pizza order. Instead, I stand at the counter, using the extra time I have to wait to remind myself that not everyone gets to have their person. She might not be mine in the way I want her to be, but she’s still my friend, she’s still my roommate, and maybe one day she might see me the way I see her. If not, then I’ll get over her eventually.
By the time I get home, I’m resolved to stop being a mopey little bitch and treat her the same way I always have. As my best fucking friend.
“Pizza and beer,” I announce, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.
“Yum,” she says, her own expression downcast and a little sad.
I did this, I told her I wanted her, then pouted when she didn’t say it back. So it’s my responsibility to fix things between us.
“Shall we kill some zombies?”
“Err, sure, if you want to,” she says quietly.
Flashing her a bright smile, I carry the pizza boxes over to the coffee table and place them down. Flipping the lid open, I force a smile at the melted cheese goodness that’s revealed. Pulling a beer out of the pack, I pass it to her, then take one for myself, twisting the lid off and taking a deep pull as I stride into the kitchen and pull paper plates from the cabinet.
“Paper plates?” she asks, raising her brow.
“Less to clean up.” Shrugging, I flop down onto the couch, making sure I’m sitting as close to the arm and as far away from her as possible. I might be determined to stay in the friend zone she’s put me in, but I’m not a fucking masochist. If she touches me, all my resolve will disintegrate, so for the moment, distance is the key to being what she needs.
Refusing to turn and look at her, I lean forward and grab the controllers from the shelf beneath the coffee table and turn on the console. It takes her longer than it should, but eventually she slips onto the couch, echoing my position but on the other side.
Clearly, we’ve both declared the middle of the couch as no-man’s-land, and I’m glad. I’ll keep my distance, and she can keep hers. Holding out the controller, she takes it from me, making sure not to graze even a finger over my hand. Clenching my jaw, I put two slices of pizza onto my plate, then focus all my attention on the game.
It takes hours for me to finally convince my muscles to relax. My dick is still eager to stand up and wave at my girl, but I grit my teeth and picture her rejecting me over and over until all of my arousal fades.
“Danny,” Parker whispers, her voice meek.
“Jesus, is that the time? You have your first day at your new job in the morning, you should get to bed. I’ll clean up,” I announce, unsure what she intended to say but knowing that I more than likely don’t want to hear it.
“Yeah, I should get some sleep. Once you work out how much half the rent and utilities are, let me know, and I’ll get some money sent over to you,” she says coolly.
“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” I lie, knowing full well that I have no intention of allowing her to pay to stay here. Maybe it’s old-fashioned, or maybe I’m just a fucking idiot, but there’s no way I’ll be able to accept money from her. If she insists, I’ll keep it in a separate account or invest it or something. Either way, this house, the bills, the food she eats—it’ll all come from me, even if she doesn’t realize it.
The moment I hear her bedroom door close upstairs, I exhale a ragged breath. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I hold my head in my hands. I’m exhausted, but I’m not sure I can sleep so close yet so far away from her.
For a split second, I consider going to Knight’s and begging him to let me stay at his place, but I know I can’t. I don’t want to stay, but I can’t leave, no matter how much it hurts.
Pushing up from the couch, I clean up the trash, then lock the doors and turn out the lights, dragging myself up the stairs like a man being led to his death. I don’t even pause when I hit the landing, forcing myself to march straight past her closed door and into my own bedroom without glancing back.
Closing my door behind me, I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower, setting the temperature to cold. Stripping out of my clothes, I step into the freezing torrent, tensing as my skin immediately chills. When my muscles feel tight, I turn the temperature to warm and slowly relax as the heat permeates my skin.
I don’t know why it works, but the extreme cold, then blissful warmth does what it always does and allows me to clear my mind and simply focus on my body. The reprieve feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
The calm lasts all the way until I climb into bed. The moment my shoulders rest against the adjoining wall, the only thing I can think about is her.
I finally succumb to sleep about three a.m., and without an alarm to wake me up, I sleep late. It’s a little after ten a.m. when I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs, not bothering to get dressed.
The house is empty. Parker’s day starts at eight a.m. and doesn’t end till six p.m., so I have hours before I have to see her again. It’s a relief, and I fucking hate it. Making myself some coffee, I debate what the fuck I’m supposed to do. I haven’t admitted my feelings for Parker to anyone but her, but I need to talk to someone about this. I need someone to tell me that torturing myself by having her move in here is the right thing to do.
The people in Rockhead Point are more than just my colleagues and neighbors, they’ve all become friends and family, but right now, I don’t know who to confide in. My closest friend here is Oz, but having witnessed the way he single-handedly took over Etta’s life the moment she came to town, I don’t think he’s the right person to give me advice on how to cope with Parker not wanting me. Even without speaking to him, I already know he’ll tell me to simply refuse to take no for an answer.
I’ve heard all the crazy stories about the Barnetts and the way they claimed their wives. Bay was the only one who ever allowed his woman any space, but I can’t talk to Bay because he’s Parker’s boss, and it wouldn’t be fair to put either of them in that position.
After drinking three cups of coffee, I decide to go and talk to Anders. Honestly, he’s the most level-headed person I know, and right now that’s the kind of advice I need. Calm, practical, non-Barnett advice.
Throwing on some sweatpants and a T-shirt, I shove my feet into slides and open my front door. Stepping outside, I close the door behind me and wander down the row, lifting my fist and rapping it against Anders’s door.
“Hey,” Anders says, smiling as he opens it.
“Hey bro, you got a minute?”
“Of course. Come in. You want a coffee?”
“Sure,” I say, stepping into the house and pulling the door closed behind me.
Unlike my place that’s decorated in bachelor pad chic, Anders’s house looks like a spread out of Home and fucking Gardens . The walls are covered in a lush green wallpaper that kind of resembles a rainforest, there’s an area rug on the floor, and a sapphire blue velvet couch sat in front of a glass coffee table.
There are plants on stands and hanging in the corners of the room, a sideboard against the wall by the front door, and appliances on the counter in the kitchen. I’ve been here before, but I don’t remember it feeling like this much of a home.
“This place looks great,” I say, looking around and noticing more small details I missed the first time, like the black-and-white photos hung on the walls. Some are pictures of our team, some massive group pictures with the Barnetts and their tribe of kids. Others are Anders with people I don’t recognize, but they’re all full of smiling people and happiness.
“Thanks. I figured as I plan to make this town home, I might as well start acting like it.”
“So, you’re staying here?”
“Yes. I’ll jump for as long as I’m capable, then I’ll settle down, buy a house, and start a business or some shit. Either way, this place has gotten under my skin. It’s home.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I say, nodding my agreement.
“Here you go,” Anders says, holding out a mug of coffee to me before sitting down on the plush couch.
“I need some advice,” I blurt, gripping my mug in my fingers as I pace the length of the living room.
“Okay.”
“You’ve heard me talk about my friend Parker, right?”
His brow furrows. “Sure, she’s the girl from your hometown, the one you play Call of Duty with. Right?”
“Yeah, that’s her. Well, she’s a mechanic, and a few weeks back, she quit her shitty job and I suggested she meet with Bay and Penn…” I trail off. “Well, long story short, she’s moved here, and I took off last week so I could road trip with her.”
“That’s great. You must be happy to have her here,” he says, his eyes wrinkling at the corner while he looks at me expectantly.
“I was happy. No, I am happy. Only I was hoping…well. I…fuck, she’s mine. Okay.”
Anders’s lips droop into a frown, and a groan slips from his lips. “Jesus Christ, you too? You know this love at first sight legacy stuff is bullshit. Right?”
“It wasn’t love at first sight. It was lust at first sight that grew into friendship, and now, well, she’s just fucking everything.”
“I have no advice to give you on how to Barnett a woman into marrying you in a week or letting you get her pregnant ten times, one after the other.”
Stopping pacing, I turn to look at him and exhale. “I don’t need advice on that.”
“Okay, so what do you need advice on?”
“I need to know what the fuck I do when the woman I know is mine doesn’t want me back.”
Anders lips part, then snap shut, then part again. “What?” he finally says.
“I told her she was mine. I told her I wanted her. I told her to tell me no if she didn’t want me, and she did,” I growl, hating each word as it comes out of my mouth.
“I…” Anders stares at me, his brows arched so high they’re almost to his hairline. “And you’re just accepting that?”
“If I don’t, I’ll lose her completely, and that’s just not a fucking option.”
“So, you’re what, just going to stop loving her?” he asks incredulously.
“What else can I do?” I snarl, begging him to actually tell me what I can fucking do.
When his lips close and he falls silent, I sigh. Moving to the couch, I sit down and pull in a deep, resigned breath. “She’s living with me.”
“Bro,” Anders says, and the word sounds pained.
“I want her to be happy.”
“What happens when she starts dating?” he snaps.
A growl rattles up from my throat, the sound raw and feral and animalistic.
“Danny, I might not believe that my destined person is just going to drop into my lap because I moved to this town. But I do know that if by some odd twist of fate, they did, I wouldn’t just let them slip through my fingers,” he hisses, the anger and outrage in his tone surprising me.
“She doesn’t want me,” I protest.
“So, make her want you,” he replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“How?” I ask, stupefied.
“I don’t know. Seduce her, demand it of her, convince her. Pick a Barnett and try their version of crazy until you find the one that works. Or hell, create your own version of Rockhead Point nuts and try that. But don’t just sit on your ass licking your wounds because she didn’t bend over and back up onto your cock.”
In all the time I’ve known Anders, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard him raise his voice. Most of the time, he’s the calm, collected voice of reason, but right now, he’s as passionate as I think I’ve ever seen him.
Pensive, I consider his words. Is he right? Have I given up too easily? As conceited as it sounds, I’ve never experienced rejection before, at least not like this, not when I care. I don’t want to have to force Parker to want me, but maybe I could seduce her into wanting me.
When I went into her room that night, I didn’t ask permission to be there, and she didn’t tell me to leave, and if she really didn’t want me there, she would have…right? She did exactly what I told her to, her eyes wide and full of lust.
That night, her attraction to me might have been in the shadows of the darkness, but it was there, and it was real. When she didn’t respond in the airport, I assumed she didn’t want me at all, but she wanted me that night. She liked me being there. She liked me helping. She liked me watching, and she never told me to leave; she put on a show for me.
“You’re right,” I mutter, swinging my head to the side to look at Anders. “Fuck, you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Anders says smugly, leaning back into the couch cushions and bringing his mug to his lips.
“She’s mine.”
“She’s yours,” he agrees, nodding decisively.
“I can’t let her go.”
“Why would you?”
“I’m going to fix this.”
“Your fix doesn’t involve stealing her birth control or getting her pregnant, does it?” Anders says with a cringe.
A laugh bubbles from my lips. “No. At least not yet.”
“Perfect. Now are you hungry? I feel like eating a burger from Granny Annie’s for lunch.”