Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
FIONA
The guys are still talking, but all I hear is a buzzing noise as I wander into the living room. I stare at my phone, hoping that I imagined the text. But it’s still there in a little blue bubble.
Unknown
How was your shift at the pub?
A chill runs up my arms.
It’s him.
My stomach still twists painfully when I think about the trauma Dennis caused over the years.
Vancouver is a really big city in another country. I blocked his number. I thought I was safe here.
My hands shake.
Did he really find me? Was he watching me tonight?
I read the words again.
Blood roars in my ears and sweat breaks out along my hairline as I see three dots appear on my screen.
Unknown
Are you using my money to rent out that stupidly big condo? You fucking cunt.
I swallow, but my throat is dry.
He has to be bluffing, right? But then how would he know about this condo?
The security here seems top notch. They have a gated parking garage and added a front-desk checkpoint since I visited three years ago with Charlie. Plus, Dennis might’ve seen me go into the building, but he doesn’t know which condo.
My racing heart slows a bit, but I jump when a gentle hand lands on my shoulder, and I manage to lose my grip on my phone. It lands on the floor with a clatter.
“Shit,” I glance at Brantley before I bend to grab it quickly.
I didn’t even realize they’d approached, but somehow they’re on either side of me. When I stand, my shoulders graze Seb’s bicep and Brantley’s chest. My ramped-up anxiety plus being so close to them is making me lightheaded.
Why do they smell so good?
Seb looks suspicious and B looks worried. I swallow.
I shove my phone in my back pocket and walk back to the kitchen, grab my beer and take a long sip. I turn, leaning my back against the island counter, and catch Seb’s ice-blue eyes. “B is looking for a job, you know. Didn’t you say the pub needs a dishwasher?”
“Please,” Sebastian scoffs. “I’d hire one of Gabriella’s toddlers before I’d hire him. They’d probably be more qualified.”
B’s gaze darkens. “Do you seriously think I can’t wash dishes?”
I take a deep breath and clutch my drink, but my hands are still shaking.
“I’ll have you know, freshman year in college, I worked at the cafe running the dishwasher. Tell him, Fi.”
My head snaps up, my attention rubber banding back to the guys, who are looking at me expectantly. “Uh, yup, he sure did.”
Seb cocks his head. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, totally fine.” I take a deep breath. “What’s your plan, B? Can I walk you home?”
Seb frowns at the same time that Brantley shakes his head, the dark strands of his hair falling over his forehead.
“I can walk myself home, Fi. Thank you for letting me use the shower.” He glances at Sebastian, anxiously peeling the label from the bottle in his hand.
“And I promise I’ll return the clothes.”
“Keep them,” Sebastian grumbles, snatching the empty from Brantley’s grip and stalking into the kitchen. Brantley looks a little crestfallen, and I almost smile—it’s like having Eeyore and Tigger in the same room.
B edges to the door and grabs his coat from the hook. “See you around?”
Without thinking, I walk forward and wrap my arms around him, closing my eyes at the feel of his warmth seeping into my body. He stiffens in surprise but then returns the embrace, his strong arms holding me tightly against his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head.
Is this the last time I’ll see him? Maybe.
“Take care of yourself, B,” I say quietly.
I hear him swallow thickly. “I’ll try,” he murmurs. Then he leaves, the door clicking quietly closed behind him.
When I turn, I see Sebastian watching me from the kitchen. Now that I really study him, I notice the dark smudges under his blue eyes, which look almost black in the dim lighting.
“Are you okay?” he asks again, his eyebrows lowering with concern.
“Just tired,” I lie, but seriously, how many times do I need to deflect? The creepy texts from Dennis are heavy in my mind, the anxiety still turning my stomach uncomfortably.
“Same. Get some rest.”
I nod and walk back toward Marcus’s room.
“Hey, Fi?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have feelings for Brantley Michaels?”
I stop and turn to look at him. He seems genuinely curious, but some other emotion is warring in his eyes. Worry? Disappointment?
I shrug. “Before? I did. Now? No.” It feels like another lie, but it’s not, right?
“What happened?”
I swallow and give him a sad smile. “He left.”
I think Sebastian knows there’s more to the story than those two words, but he just nods, and I continue to the bedroom.
I shut the door softly behind me and walk to the ensuite.
I pee, brush my teeth, and wash my face, but I refuse to look in the mirror once my makeup is cleaned away.
She’s always looking back at me, and right now I don’t want to see her.
She would tell me that I should have fought for Brantley back then, and maybe I should have, but it doesn’t matter now.
I’ve been fine without him. I had Anna for a time.
And now I’m fine on my own. After all, I’m the most reliable person I know.
I step out of the bathroom and open the dresser drawer, pulling out the first sleep shirt I see.
I sigh when I realize it’s B’s old Whitmore hockey T-shirt.
It’s been part of my wardrobe for a while, and normally, I would smile wistfully and move on, but tonight I slip it over my head before I turn off the light, then snuggle into the covers.
As I sink into sleep, I try to forget the dark blond, smart-mouthed jock who stole my heart and then stabbed me in the back but the dream comes anyway.
I enter my dorm room with Brantley following closely behind carrying my duffle bag. I stayed with Charlie in Link and Trey’s dorm last night, and I have to admit that I feel a lot better. Brantley tosses the bag onto the floor and looks around.
“No Catherine?”
“She’s in class or studying in the library.
” I turn to face him, and my breath catches when I find him only inches away.
I tilt my head back to meet his cocky smirk.
He has no right to be so hot. It’s infuriating.
He’s infuriating. I never liked jocks in high school—they were always so shallow.
But Brantley’s different. He talks a good game, but sometimes he looks at me like I’m the only person he sees.
Our breaths mingle. Our lips are so close.
“Are you about to make your move, Michaels?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” His voice is husky, all of its usual lightness buried beneath the sexual tension building between us.
“But I don’t like your first name. The name Brantley should be reserved for country singers and frat bros.”
“Wow, Fi,” he murmurs. “You’re always so blunt.” His fingers trail along my jawline. “Give me a nickname then. Whatever you want, baby.”
I’m already so wet it’s distracting, my clit throbbing against my satin underwear. “You’re making it hard to think. Be–”
His lips crash onto mine, his hands clutching my cheeks possessively. His mouth moves, his tongue sliding into my mouth and over my teeth as if he wants to taste every inch of me. It’s wet and sloppy and so fucking good.
“I like the nickname B,” he says into my mouth.
“That wasn’t a nickname,” I manage, refusing to break our kiss. “You cut me off.” I push against his pecs and he stumbles, his back hitting the door as I press my body against his with renewed urgency.
“Fuck, that was hot,” he gasps, his cock tight against the denim of his jeans and rubbing forcefully against my clit through the thin fabric of my yoga pants. I moan. “So needy.”
“Shut up, B,” I growl, breaking our kiss to pull his shirt over his head.
“And so bossy.”
I bite his lip, the slightly metallic taste of blood hitting my tongue. “I said shut up.”
He chuckles and picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he flips our positions.
Our fight for dominance is turning me on even more, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this kind of wild attraction to anyone before.
My fingers tangle in the longer strands of his hair, raking over his neck.
I gyrate my hips against his, chasing some sort of friction.
“Fuck,” he growls, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Fuck, fuck, you have to stop that or this isn’t going to last long.”
I love it. I love the way he’s losing control so easily because of me.
So I don’t stop.
I drop my feet and unbutton his pants.
“Whoa, what—” Brantley starts, but his head tips back, and he groans as I thrust my hand into his boxers and grip the hard length of his dick.
His hands come up, pounding the door behind me, caging me in, and he drops his head.
His breaths are quick, uneven pants, and I smirk.
My thumb grazes the head of his cock, smearing precum over his tip, and then I grasp him firmly and shuttle my hand along his smooth length.
“Ugggh” is all I hear as his abs stiffen and he thrusts toward me.
Cum erupts from his cock, the warm, sticky liquid running down my fist and through my fingers as I continue to jack him off.
His body shakes as he stills, and a drop of sweat snakes down his forehead and falls onto my upper lip. I lick it off.
Brantley opens his eyes, staring down at me in shock. “That has, uhm, never happened to me before. I mean, I normally last a lot longer. I mean, I warned you—”
I silence him with a finger to his lips. “You’re rambling, B. I knew exactly what I was doing. Now get on your knees.”