Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Amelia
I toss my makeup bag into the sink and blow the stray hairs away from my face. My eyes catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, specifically at the dark bloom of color that marks my neck, and I flinch.
“Damnit,” I hiss, inching closer to the mirror to get a better look. I want to believe the lighting in the bathroom makes the hickey on my neck look worse than it is, but the bar is dim, and Shadow still noticed, catching me completely off guard.
To make matters worse, I told him I had burned my neck with my curling iron. It seemed like a good cover story until my cousin pointed out that my hair was straight.
Give a girl some dick, and she loses her fucking marbles.
I unzip my makeup bag and hastily search for my concealer.
To be fair, I think I lost my mind before I encountered Maddox’s dick—all nine inches of it.
I mean, that’s the only logical explanation for what happened.
No sane woman has her car break down in the middle of the night and decides, rather than calling someone for help, to fuck the man who broke her heart.
And when one loses their mind, they tend to spiral out of control. They continue to make ridiculous decisions. Decisions that include having sex with Maddox again, giving him the opportunity to leave this giant bruise on my neck.
But that’s nothing compared to what followed. Hearing Maddox confess to coming to the hospital after my son was born and claiming he should’ve been ours, sent me reeling. I lost all sense of control, and the truth just flew out of my mouth.
I felt stripped bare. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel about anything that we discussed. I still don’t, but I can’t shake it from my mind. All I keep thinking about is the way Maddox looked when he told me Dylan should’ve been ours, and one particular sentence plays on a constant loop.
Life is short, Amelia. I don’t want to waste what’s left of mine avoiding you when I can spend it loving you.
I want to believe him. I want to believe him so fucking bad.
“God, I’m such a fool.”
I dab some concealer on my neck and do my best to blend it in with my fingers. It’s still noticeable, so I try to cover it with my hair, fanning the long strands over my shoulders. After five minutes, I give up. I gather my makeup and exit the bathroom, nearly colliding with my co-worker Jess.
“There you are,” she says. “Your ex is at the bar asking for you.”
The man is like a cancer that won’t go away.
“I can tell him you’re not here, but I don’t think he plans on leaving. He ordered wings and a beer.”
Of course he did. I hope he chokes on them.
“It’s fine, but if you haven’t already put that order in, please don’t. The sooner I get him out of here, the better.”
“I’ll cancel the order.” She holds out her hands, motioning for me to give her my makeup bag. “I’ll put that in the office for you. Good job with the makeup. You can barely see the hickey.”
Groaning, I hand over the bag. “You noticed it too?”
“Girl, I’ve been wanting to give you a high-five since I walked in the door, but seeing as you are sort of my boss, I thought that would be inappropriate.”
I laugh. If that’s inappropriate, then what Maddox and I did on the pool table is downright criminal. Jess heads for the office, and I make my way back to the bar.
“Can I get another round, Amelia?” one of my regulars calls out, sliding his empty glass forward. I pause mid-step and turn to reach for the bottle. As I pour Ed his refill, I glance over to where Russell sits. He lifts his hand and waves as if we’re old pals.
I might be losing my mind, but he’s fucking delusional.
Once Ed is situated with his drink, I walk over to Russell.
“You have some pair of balls showing your face here after what you did,” I say, cutting straight to the point.
“I came to apologize.”
I scoff. “You? Apologize? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“I lost my cool with Dylan, and that’s not right.”
I cross my arms against my chest. “Then don’t you think you should apologize to him?”
“He’s not answering my calls.”
If I didn’t speak to Dylan twenty minutes ago that probably would worry me, but I know he’s home, avoiding Sarah who is binging old episodes of Dawson’s Creek. I wonder why he didn’t mention Russell called, though.
“That checks,” I say. “Dylan isn’t a pushover, and he’s no fucking pussy. You showed him exactly who you are, and he decided he doesn’t want to put up with your bullshit. You might think I’m a bad mom, and that I’ve failed him, but I think that alone shows I’m not doing such a terrible job.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He glances around before leaning over the bar, and our eyes lock. “I know you’re a good mom, and I also know that I haven’t made it easy for you. Dylan is lucky to have you.”
Russell has never praised me as a parent. Whenever we fight, he disappears for weeks, sometimes even months, then he comes back around and acts as if nothing happened. There is no accountability for his actions.
“Are you dying?”
He chuckles, and for the briefest moment I’m that seventeen-year-old girl he found crying in a field. Back then, I wanted so badly to believe he was the answer to my prayers. That he’d heal me.
And now, looking at him, seeing him smile so freely, I want to put my faith in him again. I want to believe that there is a shred of decency inside him that makes him want to be better for his son.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not dying.” He pauses, and his brows pinch together. “At least I don’t think I am.”
“Look, Russell, I don’t have time for this. If you’re truly sorry then you’ll change your ways, and realize that action speak louder than words, especially where you’re concerned. Now, if that’s it, I have to get back to work.”
I uncross my arms and turn to walk away when he leans over the bar and grabs my wrist.
“Amelia, wait.”
I yank my arm free.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. It’s just… you… I…”
“For fuck’s sake, spit it out.”
“I got a new job,” he blurts. I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate, and I see the mask slip from his face.
“It’s good. Real good. I’ll be making double what I made at the paper mill, and I won’t have to worry about my piss coming up clean.
I just need some money to float me until I get my first check.
You know how it is… bills, rent…they all gotta get paid. ”
I still. Just when I think he can’t sink any lower, he proves me wrong, but shame on me for even entertaining him and his sad excuse for an apology.
“And there it is.” I shake my head in disgust. “I should’ve known better.”
He drops his voice. “I’m serious, babe. I just need a couple hundred dollars. I’ll pay you back.”
I bark out a laugh, causing a couple of patrons to glance in our direction. “You still owe me three thousand from the last ‘couple hundred’ you borrowed from me, and six years of child support, but hold on, let me get my checkbook. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Don’t you get it? This job is going to change everything. I won’t have to ask you for anything anymore, and I’ll be able to throw you some money for Dylan.” He combs his fingers roughly through his hair. “I’m trying to fix things here.”
“Yeah, with my wallet.” I take a step forward. “You have ten seconds to get the hell out of my bar before I call Shadow, and he escorts you out himself.”
“Fuck your cousin. I’m not threatened by him.”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone. “Let’s see if that’s true.”
He slams his palm against the bar. “Damn you, Amelia. I’m drowning here.”
My fingers close around the phone, and it takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to not throw it at his fucking face.
“I don’t care,” I grind out. “Just like you didn’t care when your son and I were drowning.
Instead of pulling us out of the water, you held our heads under.
Now, you’re looking for a fucking life raft.
Well, you’re shit out of luck, pal. The well is dry. ”
Grinding his jaw, he shakes his head.
“This is about farm boy, isn’t it? He got in your head.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need anyone to tell me what a loser you are.”
He slides off the stool and violently shoves it against the bar. “What are you going to do when he dumps you? Find some other poor schmuck to lick your wounds?”
“Get out before I have you removed.”
Surprisingly enough, he heeds my warning and storms out, slamming the door so hard the front windows rattle. Heat rushes up chest, and I glance around the bar, noticing all eyes are on me.
Jess appears at my side. “You okay?”
I’m the furthest thing from okay. My hands are shaking and I want to scream because if I scream, then maybe I won’t cry. But I keep my expression neutral and turn my attention to Jess, flashing her a fake smile.
“I’m fine.”
Jess doesn’t buy my lie, but she doesn’t call me out on it either.
We get back to work. The facade I’ve perfected stays in full swing until it’s last call.
By closing time, I’m wrung out. I let Jess leave, and I close the bar myself.
When I make my way outside, I scan the parking lot for the prospect Shadow assigned to drive me home, but my gaze lands on a familiar truck instead.
Pushing off the hood, Maddox saunters over to me, looking devastatingly handsome and entirely too dangerous.
“What are you doing here?”
He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he comes to a stop right in front of me.
“Giving you a ride home.”
I open my mouth to object, but the roar of a motorcycle cuts off my words. We both turn instinctively as the bike swings into the parking lot way too fast, the tires hissing against the asphalt. It skids to a stop right beside us, and the rider drops his kickstand before removing his helmet.
“Sorry, I’m late. Hope you weren’t waiting long.” His eyes cut to Maddox. “This guy giving you trouble?”
“No,” I say, eyeing the patch on his leather cut.
Stretch.
Must be new to club because I don’t recall ever seeing him before.
“Hey, man, sorry you wasted the trip, but I’ll be taking Amelia home,” Maddox says, causing my head to snap in his direction. Our eyes meet, and even though I know I should tell him no, I don’t have it in me. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to fight.
Not with him.
Not with anyone.
I turn my attention back to Stretch and offer him a smile. “Sorry. I should’ve called Shadow and told him I had a ride.”
“It’s not a problem,” Stretch says, his eyes bouncing from me to Maddox, then back to me. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. Thank you.”
He hesitates for a moment before revving his engine and peeling out of the parking lot. When the motorcycle is out of view, I turn to Maddox. “You don’t listen to a word I say, do you?”
He stares at me intently. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I listened to everything you said last night, and everything you said earlier today.”
“Not everything, because I told you I had a ride.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he nods at his truck and starts for the passenger side. Just like last night, he opens the door for me, and I climb into the passenger seat. But when he leans into the cab of the truck, I press my hand to his chest.
“We’re not going there again.”
“Was just gonna help you with your seatbelt,” he says before closing his fingers around my wrist and lowering my hand to my side. Then, without pause, he pulls the seatbelt across the front of my body.
My heart stutters as he invades my space.
The clean scent of soap and something only specific to him fills my lungs.
Every morsel of air between us feels charged, and I forget how to breathe.
My brain short-circuits and all I can focus on is the way his breath ghosts against my cheek as he clicks the seatbelt into place, the sound so loud.
He lingers for half a second too long, his hand resting against my hip.
His eyes flick to mine and my pulse jumps in my throat. The air between us thickens as he stays rooted in place, his gaze roving over me.
“There you go,” he says softly.
I’m sure a gesture like this goes unnoticed by women all the time. I bet they even laugh at the absurdity of it. But I’ve never had a man take care of me in such a simple way, and a simple gesture like this one feels monumental to a girl who has had to carry herself for so long.
Suddenly, I’m hyperaware of everything. The heat radiating from his body. The shape of his mouth—a mouth I know is skillful and talented. I could lean in an inch and feel those lips against mine. One kiss would make me forget about everything.
I’m about to do it when he retreats.
He closes the door, and the cab immediately feels different, as if he took all the oxygen out of it with him.
I tell myself it’s better this way. That kissing him would further complicate things, and it would seeing as I’m not sure I’d have the willpower to leave it at just one kiss now that I know what it feels like to be ravaged by him.
He slides behind the wheel, and all I feel is regret and a deep sense of longing.