48. Misely
forty-eight
Misely
B rantley Corrigan had been a good lover for a while, but it seemed even after two weeks and another man telling him to fuck off, he still couldn’t take a hint. He’d been here for hours and my patience was waning. There had been stages to his visit.
It had started with him apologizing for coming on too strong before, promising to tone it down. That he would be fine continuing a strictly physical relationship. Then it had evolved to him trying to kiss me and being upset when I turned him down. And now, hours later, he was back to going on about how good we would be together.
Several times my mind had wandered to Patti, and how she had said, “ ‘No’ is a complete sentence. ” She was right. It had been foolish of me to keep letting him off the hook and excusing his behavior as ‘determined.’ No, he simply could not accept that I wasn’t interested. Men like Brantley don’t comprehend when they are being told no.
“You say the word, and I’ll stop.” It was Talon’s voice that drifted into my thoughts again, so clearly it was like he was in the room with us. If Talon , the man who’d taken me by way of blackmail and violence, chased me through the woods and pinned me to the ground, could hear me and respect me at my word—there weren’t any excuses in the world that would warrant anymore lenience toward the man who stood in front of me.
“If you’d just give us a chance—” That was enough.
“Brantley, stop .”
“But—”
“No, I said stop. I am not interested. I do not have feelings for you, and I am no longer interested in continuing a sexual relationship. I have no desire to date you or 'give us a chance.' In fact, I think it would be in both of our best interest if we stopped speaking all together. This has gotten to the point that I don’t believe we can even be friends.”
The silence was deafening. And blissful . I was exhausted. It had been a hell of a week, and a hell of a week before that too. And now I needed another week just to recuperate from everything that had gone down and that started with this buffoon getting the hell out of my apartment.
The silence was entirely too short lived.
“Is this because of the douche bag that answered your phone last week?”
My head fell back and I laughed. “No. And even if it was, so what? I told you I’m not interested, end of conversation.”
“Not end of conversation. After everything, I think I deserve an explanation.”
I exploded. I truly exploded, and damn it felt good. “You deserve nothing . I owe you nothing . You mean nothing to me, Brantley. You were a fuck buddy, something that had been communicated to you effectively several times. I will not continue to tip toe around your delicate male ego simply because you refuse to get it through your thick skull that I don’t want you. ”
His face that I’d once thought handsome, screwed up into an ugly sneer. I knew what was coming even before his mouth opened. “You’re just a stupid fucking whore, you know that?”
All I could manage to do was sigh, smile, and point to the door. Narcissistic men were incredibly predictable—slut shaming was always the go-to rebuttal to rejection. The poor things could never come up with anything original. “So be it. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”
He made a sorry attempt to muster up a few more retorts but I ignored him, guiding him to the door and opening it. The sooner he was gone, the sooner I could go to bed. But when the door swung open, we both froze where we stood, my jaw going slack.
Filling out the width of the doorway was Talon, his hair a disheveled mess, his clothes wrinkled, and all our bags from last week stacked at his feet. One of his fists was held up as if he were readying himself to knock. When his eyes, the eyes I’d missed so much since I hopped on that plane out of Oregon, landed on Brantley, I watched as the muscle in his cheek bounced.
“You’re here.” The words came off a little breathless, but I couldn’t help it when I could barely draw in the air. There was a tingling in my chest now that I couldn’t place, an irregular beat that slammed against my bones just a little too hard.
He seemed so tired, this big burly man, so angry and possessive and tired . Instead of demanding to know who the other was that stood beside me, Talon met my gaze again and said in a voice gentler than I’d been prepared for, “I’m here.”
Everything that hid behind those words had emotion clogging my throat. So many things lay unspoken between us, so many questions still unanswered. I heard the apology without him saying it.
“I knew it.” Brantley made his presence known once again. I suppressed a groan of frustration. “All that and you couldn’t just admit that it was another man. And this guy? Seriously?” Brantley scowled at Talon like he was trash, like he was beneath him. Like somehow, he was better than Talon and he was having a hard time comprehending how I had decided he was the better option. I glared holes into Brantley's face, suddenly unsure how I'd ever found him attractive to begin with. "It's fine, Misely. I'm better off finding someone who isn't a fucking slut."
I did nothing to stop Talon from pushing himself between Brantley and me, his large frame crowding the unwelcome guest back out my door. I was not going to continue to argue with Brantley about why I did or did not want to continue pursuing any kind of relationship with him, there was no point. Men like him simply would not accept ‘ no. ’ Anything more was just a waste of time and I was tired. If he decided that I was a slut or a whore or whatever else he wanted to think of me because of it, then oh well. That was his mind to poison, not mine.
“If you ever show up here again, limp dick, I’ll break your fucking knees. Got it?” Talon’s words were a low growl that traveled no further than where Brantley stood, his brown eyes widening at the threat.
“I’ll have you know—” Brantley’s rebuttal died on his lips when, with one swift shove, Talon pushed his body across the hall, slamming into the wall behind him.
“Get the fuck out of here before I make good on that promise now .”
Brantley stood a little straighter, shock evident in his features. In a sad attempt at mastering himself again, he straightened his button down and began making his way toward the elevator. Glaring toward me he said, “This is a mistake, Misely.”
I rolled my eyes. “No. It's not. Goodbye, Brantley.”
Despite his stinging words, defeat dulled his once bright features as the doors slid shut in front of him, and I wondered if maybe he’d finally given up.
I took my bags from Talon once we were alone inside my apartment and hauled them over to set outside my bedroom door. We still hadn’t said more than the few words we’d exchanged when he’d first arrived. Neither of us seemed to know what to say, both opening and closing our mouths like a couple of gaping fish.
Finally, I cleared my throat. “When did you get in?” I asked while passing him a glass of water. He took it almost timidly, taking a seat on my sofa. How odd to see him there looking so timid and out of place when the last time he was here, he was blackmailing me into going on some ill-fated road trip.
“About an hour ago.”
I blinked. Had he come directly here?
“Ah.” I had to clear my throat again, my cheeks growing warm.
The moments that passed in awkward silence made the unsettling feeling in my gut worse. The unsuredness.
“Talon, if you’re here because you think I’m pregnant, you should know—”
“I know you’re not pregnant.”
Right, Birdie had probably told him.
“You would have told me as soon as you found out.” he said firmly.
I spun, surprised. So, she hadn’t? I was confused.
“How can you be so sure of that?”
One of his shoulders lifted, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because you’re you. And you have a firm moral code and I think jumping on a plane without telling your lover he’s going to be a father probably goes against that code. No matter how shitty I am or how pissed you are at me.”
“Lover?”
“Would you prefer I say ‘man you’re fucking?’” It was a challenge, one I met with my own.
“The man that just left also used to be one I was fucking.” I lifted a brow. “I could call him a lover too.”
“He’s a weasel.” Talon’s tone was threatening. Maybe more threatening than it had been when he was addressing Brantley directly, and I found it flattering. He wasn't offended that I had slept with Brantley, he was offended that I was implying I might still like to. I blew out a breath and let myself collapse onto the opposite end of the couch.
“You know what, you’re right about that.” I ran two hands over my face, not caring if I smeared my makeup. “Hopefully he finally takes a hint.” Letting my head fall back on the back of the sofa, I stared up at the ceiling.
A beat later, Talon spoke again. “How did things go with Benji?”
I sucked in a tiny breath. “You didn’t come here to talk about my job, MacArthur.”
“No, but I’d like to know, regardless. It’s important to you.”
A new frustration crept in, hindering any filter I might have had. “It’s not like you cared before.”
“That’s not fair.”
I snorted. “None of this has been fair to me, have you thought about that?”
“Look, I know—”
“You don’t know anything about how I’m feeling right now,” I ground out. I could feel his stare on the side of my face but didn’t dare look to him. At any moment, he would decide this wasn't worth the time, curse and stomp out of the apartment.
His words were cool and calm. “No. But I’d like if you told me.”