Chapter Nine
Jesse
I should have realized what a bad idea inviting some of the guys over would be the second Richie Head asked if there’d be alcohol. And since today is the technically the start of our bye week, I figured there was no harm in saying yes.
Except now there’s a heated argument happening in my living room thanks to a combat game my teammates are playing on an Xbox that wasn’t there until two hours ago when they showed up with a console, controllers, and twenty-four pack of beer.
When the others came, in flowed more alcohol, snacks, and trash talk that was apparently about video games rather than hockey for once.
At least one of the twenty-four packs of Corona are polished off, and an additional twelve empty bottles litter the kitchen.
“Regretting your life choices?” Moskins asks, bumping my shoulder. Surprisingly, he’s been nursing the same beer since he was offered one. It has to be piss warm by now, but he doesn’t seem to care. A huge change from a few years ago when I’d be dragging his drunken ass to a guest bed.
I’m on beer number two. After the day I had, I decided to say fuck it and enjoy some guy time. I can work the calories off tomorrow. “As long as they don’t break my TV, no.”
Moskins chuckles. “Dude, you just jinxed yourself. I’ve seen Head go against Dawson in Mortal Combat and it never ends well. Head always gets pissed. If a drink doesn’t spill, something breaks.”
I close my eyes and start questioning why I thought this was a good idea.
It was a last-minute decision to fill the silence of the house.
And it’s been filled. Now I have eight testosterone-filled meatheads loitering about my house playing video games and cracking dirty jokes like we’re at a middle school party.
“Did Belle not want to hang?” he asks, looking around as if he missed her somehow. “Or is she hiding in her room again?”
If she were here, I wouldn’t have invited any of these knuckleheads over. “She’s out.”
Apparently, the tone in my voice is enough to warrant raised brows. “Doing what?” He stares at me before something clicks. “Oh. She’s out. I guess the better question is with who?”
I don’t feel like telling him about Dane, the pompous asshole who knew damn well I don’t play football. He’d wanted a reaction from me, and he wasn’t going to get it. “A childhood friend.”
Moskins studies me, then takes a swig of his beer. “I’m assuming a male one based on the vein popping in your forehead. If you’re not careful, it’s going to burst.”
I flip him off, earning a grin. “She’s allowed to date whoever the fuck she wants.”
Moskins makes a thoughtful noise. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”
I look away, hearing another bemused chuckle from him. I liked him more when he was a grumpy bastard who ignored us when we invited him places. “Where’s your girl? Surprised you didn’t bring her along.”
My deflection isn’t lost on him, but he allows it. “She’s at home with the cat. Said she was in the middle of an audiobook and just got to a good part.”
She and Belle would get along then. “Belle is planning on opening a bookstore. If she likes to read, you’ll have to let her know about it.”
Moskins’s brows lift. “That’s a bit different than the club.”
“The place she’s leasing used to be a café. It’s on Main Street. I think Belle figured a bookstore would be a good addition to the area and she could utilize the appliances already there. Better perceived.”
Plus, there isn’t bad press tied to the name like her club got in Pittsburgh.
I think this is a fresh start for her. Something new and different and safe.
I saw papers in her office the last time I brought her in something to eat while she worked, and she was putting together stats on how romance book sales were going through the roof over the last six years.
Brick and mortars are thriving after reports of e-readers taking them out of business surfaced in the past ten years.
Apparently, there’s proof that bookstores are a popular business to invest in.
Moskins pushes his beer away. “Well, I’ll have to bring Winter when it’s open. Maybe they can work together on some press for it. Win always has good ideas when it comes to marketing.”
That’s not a bad idea. “She’d probably—”
The door opens and my words cut off when I see Belle walk in. Despite there being half a hockey team in our house, her eyes land straight on me.
Moskins clears his throat and slides off the stool he’s been occupying. “I’m going…anywhere else. Good luck.”
He nods at Belle as she approaches us before slipping between Richie and Jack on the couch before they start brawling over whatever the hell is going on in their game.
“You invited the guys,” is how she greets me.
I look around, nodding my head. “Yep. I wanted to hang out with someone.”
I know I’m being an asshole for trying to make her feel bad for going out with someone. But I’m bitter that she ditched me for him.
“Wow,” she breathes at my tone, nodding absentmindedly. “I didn’t realize I was obligated to hang out with you in my free time when we agreed to live together.”
Stop being a prick to her, I tell myself before I say something routed in jealousy. “You’re not. I just…fuck.” I rake a hand through my hair and set my beer down. It tastes gross anyway.
We’re quiet as we stare at one another. The tension in the room no longer feels like it’s from the guys’ video game.
“How was the date?” I finally ask, voice dryer than I want it to be.
Belle evades my eyes. “It was more like two old friends catching up, but it was fine.”
I don’t believe that. “You can call it what it is. No need to spare my feelings.”
Her head whips back to me. “Are you kidding right now? You left the store earlier acting butthurt. It ruined my—”
When she doesn’t finish her sentence, I do it for her. “Date? Go ahead and say it, Bells. You were on a date.”
Her hands ball into fists. “You’re an asshole, do you know that?” The room gets eerily silent after that statement, and I can feel almost every set of eyes on us. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for going out with somebody. You have no right.”
I wish I could argue with her, but I can’t. “I know that. Trust me.”
She throws her hands up. “Then why are you being this way? A hot guy who was nice asked me out to dinner, and I spent more time thinking about how I hurt your feelings. Do you hear how fucked up that sounds?”
Somebody in the living room clears their throat.
That’s when my jaw tics and I look over Belle’s shoulder and call out, “Everybody out. Now.”
There are a few murmured grumbles, somebody asking about the Xbox, and another person whining when that question gets a head smack. But within sixty seconds, everybody is shuffled out the door leaving Belle and I alone.
She doesn’t back down, but her face contorts with sadness and frustration. “It isn’t fair, Jesse,” she repeats, voice cracking at me name.
And it breaks my goddamn heart. “I know,” I reply, voice no louder than a whisper.
She meets my eyes. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Those words are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, especially if I have to see those glassy eyes she’s pinning me with produce tears.
“Bells,” I say softly. Painfully.
Because what am I going to do about it?
“Just…” She sniffs back tears, closing her eyes and squeezing them to fight back the very things that will kill me if I see them leak down her face. “I just need a break. I need this to be fair. Because it’s not fair to either of us, Jesse.”
When she opens her eyes, they’re bloodshot and glassier than before. Without thinking, I cup her cheek and rub the pad of my thumb over a damp spot just under her eye. “I never wanted to be unfair to you. There’s just so much—”
“Don’t,” she stops me sharply. “Don’t you dare make up bullshit excuses. It isn’t like there are any I haven’t already played out a million times in my head before.”
I swallow, feeling my Adam’s apple bob as I try contemplating what I could say to make this better. To make her feel better. My options are limited, and I’m walking a fine line that something tells me I’m on the verge of falling from.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I step away from her before scrubbing the same hand down my face. “I don’t know what to do, Bells. Nothing about this is easy. Knowing you were out with Dane fucking sucked.”
She scoffs. “And what about you? I have to see women throw themselves all over you every time we go somewhere. Do you think I enjoy that? Do you think that’s fun for me?”
“I never entertain them,” I all but growl.
She gapes, and I know I pushed the wrong button. “So what? Am I the bad guy for saying yes to a date with somebody for once? You used to date all the time. You used to hook up more frequently than that. Who cares if I’m catching up with an old friend or trying to have fun for once?”
I grind my teeth so hard they hurt. “I do! And that’s the goddamn problem, isn’t it? I care when I shouldn’t. I want you to have fun. I want you to be happy. But that doesn’t mean I have to like watching it from the sidelines when it should be me who—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” she cuts me off for the second time, “unless you plan on doing something about it.”
Son of a bitch. If she won’t let me talk, then I’ll just have to fucking show her.
I close the distance before she can blink, cupping her face in my hands and crushing my mouth against hers until a surprised gasp escapes her. Her hands go to my waist, and I back us up until she’s pressed against the fridge.
A soft moan bubbles past her lips as I open them with mine and get a taste of her for the first time.
She tastes like wine and peppermint gum, a habit she has after eating because she’s always afraid her breath will smell after.
It’s why I have a pack with me in my car and in my gym bag in case she needs one when we’re out.