Chapter 17 #2
“Okay. Then call it even for putting up with my brother’s shit. You kept him alive. Changed his dressings, made sure he didn’t get up and act a fool. Yelled at him when he was being a dumbass. Which is all the time.”
Her mouth twitches, not quite in humor, even though it was intended that way.
“That’s my job.”
“Then this is mine, baby.”
My fists clench and unclench, trying to stop myself from grabbing her and crushing her against me. She looks so damn pretty that it takes everything in me not to pick her up and fuck her against every wall in this place.
“Fixing what I can. Calling the guy who can reinforce what I can’t. Making sure you’re not stuck in here with a broken lock and a psycho ex. Let me do that much.”
She looks at me for a long time. Really looks. I stand still and let her. My heart’s doing that stupid uneven beat again, like it can’t decide if it wants to speed up or crash.
“Fine,” she says at last, voice softer. “Thank you. For the locks. For bringing me home.”
But not for anything else, and it chips away at my heart even more. A stupid part of me wants to say that this isn’t home. Home is with us. With me. Wants to shove the words out, force them between us the way Em forces everything.
I swallow them instead.
“You sure you don’t want us to hire someone to sit outside?” I’m not ready to let her go. “Just for a few days. Make sure he doesn’t come back. I’ll pay. No questions asked.”
Her expression goes flat. Calm. That nurse in charge calm that means she’s done. I’ve seen it far too many times to like it.
“I can’t have that. If my landlord finds out I have some mystery man hanging around my door, asking about an ex and a break-in, it’s going to be questions, drama, and paperwork. I can’t risk it, Papito. Not for my job. Not for my family.”
I hate that she’s right. Hate that the same systems that should protect her would make her life harder.
“You’ll text me when you get off your next shift?” I push, needing something. A thread. Anything. She hesitates. For a heartbeat, I think she’s going to say no. That she’ll cut us loose clean, rip the bandaid off.
“I’ll text when I’m home from my next shift.”
“But you’re off tomorrow, right? I can bring you something. Food or walk with you and Paco. Or—”
“I’m working tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But I’ll text you when I’m in for the night, so you know I made it safe. That’s all I can promise right now.”
Right now. It’s not a no. But it’s not a yes either. I nod. It feels like swallowing broken glass. She steps closer. My heart slams. Paco bumps my ankle, and I barely keep from kicking him by accident.
She rises on her toes. For one second, I think she’s going to kiss me the way she did in my bathroom. Deep, messy, claiming. She doesn’t. Her lips touch my cheek. Light. Barely there. A thank-you, not a promise.
“Take care of your brother. He’s more hurt than he lets on.”
“Yeah,” I manage. “I know.”
“And take care of yourself. You carry a lot. You don’t have to carry me, too.”
But I want to, I don’t say. I want to carry you most. I step back instead. If I stay one second longer, I’m going to break every rule she just set for me.
“Text me when you’re home. After your shift. Anytime you fuck, just text, Sofia. Even if it’s just a picture of Paco’s ugly face.”
Her lips curve the slightest bit. “Ay, he’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, yeah. Guess we have different definitions.” My voice is rough. She’s beautiful. Not her dog. That’s a fact known to every man who’s ever looked at her.
I force my feet to move. Force myself toward the door.
I pause with my hand on the knob and look back.
She’s standing in the middle of her tiny living room.
Paco sits at her feet, gazing up like he’s in love.
Light from the grimy window edges her in gray.
No gold, no pool reflections, no ridiculous floaties or grill smoke.
Just her.
Alone.
It feels wrong in every cell of my body.
“Lock it behind me. Deadbolt every time. Don’t open it for anybody you don’t know. If he comes back, you call 911, then you call me. In that order.”
“Go. Before you make me regret not calling an Uber.”
It’s a joke, but there’s truth underlying it.
I nod once and step out. The door closes.
I hear the deadbolt slide home. The heavy clack makes my stomach plummet.
For a second, I just stand there in the shitty hallway.
Staring at the cheap painted wood panel, at the new metal plate that’s supposed to make me feel better.
It doesn’t.
I make myself walk away, down the crumbling steps to the parking lot below.
To my sports car, hugging the curb, and looking totally out of place.
I slide in, shut the door, and just sit.
My hands rest on the wheel. I can still feel her kiss on my cheek.
I can still see her face when she said I need space.
I’ve been here before. Different girl, different apartment, same hollow feeling. With Cecilia, I ignored it. Tried harder, pushed further, and clung tighter. Got burned so bad I swore I’d never let myself want like this again. Now I want more than I ever did with her.
“I’m not going to fuck this up,” I tell the empty car. “Not again. I’ll give her all the space she wants, even if it kills me. No smothering this time. Trying to force a fix that neither of us wants.”
The engine fires to life with a low growl. I pull away from the curb, forcing myself not to look back in the mirror. Give her space, I remind myself as her building disappears behind me.
Let her breathe.
The problem is, space is exactly where guys like her ex live. In the gaps. In the silences. In the distance between what we want and what we’re brave enough to ask for. And for the first time since the accident, since Em almost died on that road, a new fear settles in my gut.
Not just of losing my brother.
Of losing her.
So, I do the only thing I know to do, I call Holli.
He picks up before the second ring.
“Come through.” Chill as always. I don’t always appreciate it, but I do today. I need it.
I try to swallow, but my throat is thick. “You busy?”
“No. Tell me what’s going on. Is it Em? I just saw him this past week, and he seemed to be hell on crutches. Does anything slow that guy down?”
I chuckle as empty as I feel. “Yeah, Sofia, but she went home.”
“Back up, I’m missing something.” His voice sounds clearer as if he is paying more attention.
I blabber on about the last twenty-four hours from the ex, to our place, to Em’s fucking mouth ruining shit, and everything that brought me to now. He hums. Not judgment, just acknowledgment.
My voice cracks somewhere in the middle. “We didn’t want her to leave.”
“Sounds like it.” His voice is calm. The way he gets when he knows I’m holding something tight to my chest and pretending I’m not.
“It wasn’t just . . . sex,” I say, rubbing my thumb along the steering wheel seam because it keeps my hands busy. “It was more. She let us in. Let me in. And I could see it in her face, but then Em opened his damn mouth, and she shut down fast as fuck.”
Holli exhales.
It rumbles through the speakers.
“She’s been on her own, man. Independent women like that? When something feels good, it scares the hell out of them. Especially if they didn’t expect it. And especially if they have a loser ex stalking them for money, isn’t that what you said?”
A muscle in my jaw jumps. Holli has traveled the world, born and bred to be the next generation of Morgans. The expectations are high for him. Of course, he knows this shit. That and dating Dom’s mom, which still blows my mind that Dom hasn’t killed him for it, even if it’s been a while now.
“I didn’t think about that.”
“I figured. But these older women are different. They don’t need us, Massi. That’s the one thing you need to understand. You want to save her from her ex—”
“You’d do the same,” I accuse, hot and bothered.
“Of course I would. I’m not saying you’re wrong.
I’m on your side, man.” He’s immediately on the defensive.
Back peddling, and I appreciate him backing down.
My feelings are already raw as fuck. “But put yourself in her shoes. When you’ve had to figure shit out all on your own, then they don’t need you for answers.
I know you want to be there for her. But maybe you’re doing too much too soon. ”
“That sounds dumb. Chicks would kill to live with Em and me. Our shit’s fire. You know that. We throw the best parties, and everyone knows we share so—”
“Mas, I know. I get it from your perspective. But you said chicks, and she’s not a chick or college girl or whatever you guys chase. She’s a woman with a professional job. A serious one at that. She doesn’t need you or Em coming in and bossing her around.”
“I’d never boss her around. If anything, she bosses us around.”
My knee begins to bob, needing more than just driving my car to burn off my feelings.
“And from the sounds of it, you like that about her. But if she’s out there making her own money and you said sending some back home, then she really doesn’t want a guy controlling her. Hell, you could remind her of her ex.”
I snort at the thought that all my muscles and good looks would get me in the same category as her strung-out tweaker ex-husband begging for money.
“No way in hell I’m like her ex.”
“From your perspective, but think about it from hers. She’s already getting it from one dude, and then you two come along and box her in.
No offense, but you guys are chaos kings.
We love you for it, but it can be too much if you’re not used to it.
And coming from me, your brother, that’s saying something. ”
I drag in a slow breath through my nose. It hits deep in my ribs what he’s saying.
“Sure, Em can be a lot. I told him that today. To chill the fuck out.”
“Not just Em, both of you. Look, you said it yourself, she works long hours, in a stressful job where a bad day for her means people die. You can’t even begin to relate to that.
On a bad day, you what? You don’t get the pump you want after a workout?
You have to clean up your brother’s mess for the millionth time? You don’t get laid?”
“I mean—”
“No, bro,” he cuts me off, even though not all my days are that simple.
My twin was literally life or death five weeks ago, so it’s not that unrelatable to what she goes through.
“She’s all alone. Goes to work alone, works with critical patients, and then goes home alone.
No family, and sounds like no friends. Am I right? ”
“Friends?” I think and realize he’s right. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her mention anyone besides her mom and Paco. “I don’t know. She’s never mentioned any.”
“Exactly, then the chaos kings come into her life like a hurricane. And even though you’re the good guys, it’s a lot to go from alone to that level of crazy energy.”
“Hey, stop lumping me in with Em. I’m not as bad as him.”
He chuckles, the sound of confidence and legacy that only his name can buy. “You’re not as good as me.”
The light burns yellow, and I blaze through it. Reckless, but I don’t care. I want to get home, eat, and then lie in the sheets covered in her scent. Wallow in self pity.
“Fuck you, Hollister.”
He knows I don’t mean it. His laugh gets louder and longer, blasting through my speakers. Something about it is comforting. Like, bro knows what he’s talking about, and it helps sort through my mental crap.
“But I love you, man. Even when you give me shit.”
“Same, Massi. If I don’t give the Dimas’s brothers shit, who will?”
“Dominic.”
We both laugh, knowing that’s a truer statement than Hollister’s. And damn, if it doesn’t feel good just to let loose. Let some of the tension out of my body from the last hour of conflict. His laugh ends faster than mine.
“I’d say we’re long due for a ride but with Em . . .” his voice trails off like it always does when any one of them mentions bikes around my brother or me.
I get it, it’s a sensitive subject. We all know the risks of riding. Hell, we all did that Last Ride behind a year ago when a guy at another university got crushed by an eighteen-wheeler. So fucked up, and I’d be lying if it didn’t scare the shit out of all of us, even death with Darko Dommy.
“Let’s do it! Been too long.”
A pause. Then a clearing of his throat.
“Don’t make it weird, Holli. I get it. We all do. But his accident doesn’t have to be the end of us riding together. In fact, it would do us both some good to get out and be with you guys again.”
Another pause and then an exhalation.
“You sure?”
It’s the first thing to bring a smile to my face since sinking into Sofia in the bathroom.
“Very sure. Let’s do it tomorrow!”
One hand leaves the steering wheel to drum on the dashboard in excitement. It’s been a long time, and both Em and I need this ride now more than ever.
“Okay, man, but did Emilio get his cast off, or how is he going to ride?”
A wicked idea comes to mind, and now I’m almost getting a hard-on from how fucking genius it is.
“Leave that to me.”