Chapter 3
COLE
When Dahlia gets up in the morning, she’s more relaxed than last night, even if she’s rubbing her neck like it’s tense. But she looks better off than when I picked her up thirty-six hours ago, and that’s the important part.
“So, I need to go to the apartment and get my stuff. There’s a football game today, which means he’s down at Uncle Joe’s, and probably won’t be home until at least five. So if I go now—”
I look at her. It’s unclear if that’s a statement or some kind of question. “Okay.”
“But I don’t have a car,” she says quickly, then looks away. “I mean, if it’s okay, could I ask for you to drive me and help? It’s not that much stuff, but Marisa is working today, and I don’t have anyone else I want to ask.”
That snaps my attention tight. “What do you mean there’s no one else to ask?” There’s nothing wrong with this woman, and I can’t believe for a second that she only has one friend in the world.
“It’s…” She pauses, wiping a tear from her eye, and I feel like an asshole for making her cry, but I have no idea what I did or how to fix it.
“The girls I overheard at the party said everyone knew. Marisa didn’t, but I’m embarrassed to ask anyone in case they did.
I don’t want people laughing or making it into more gossip than I’m sure it already is. I’m already humiliated.”
I force myself to count to ten to dissipate the fog of red fury that flashed up. I’d be dead if I couldn’t trust my teammates, and I understand what it’s like to not have the backup you thought you did. All I got was a medical discharge, but life off the Teams is disconcerting and lonely as fuck.
I stand and grab my keys off the counter. “Grab your bag. I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asks, her voice small. I swear if I ever meet the man who betrayed her like this and made her feel bad for just asking for help, only one of us is walking out alive.
“I’m driving.” I grab my jacket, then turn to look at her. “Dahlia. You are not an inconvenience. Just because some jackass didn’t appreciate you, it doesn’t mean you’re unworthy. I’ve got you.”
Dahlia looks at me, her eyes wild with emotions.
I want to pull her into my arms and hug her until she stops shaking and doubting herself.
But I can’t, because if I pull her into my arms, I won’t ever want to let her go, and I won’t be able to control the lust raging inside me.
It’s all kinds of wrong to respond to her like I am when she’s like this, but even through her sadness, I see a glimpse of who she is, and I want her.
I want all of it, and I want to make her happy.
When we get there, she’s right. The asshole isn’t home. I follow her inside, and every surface in this apartment makes me want to put my fist through it. I take a good look at the photos on the fridge. Now I know what the fucker looks like.
She pulls two suitcases from the hall closet and starts in the bedroom. I hear drawers opening, hangers scraping, the efficient sounds of a woman who’s already decided what matters and what doesn’t. She comes out with the first suitcase zipped and heavy.
“I got it.” I take it from her before she can argue and carry it down to the truck.
When I come back, she’s in the bathroom, sweeping toiletries off the counter into a cloth shopping bag.
She moves fast, like she’s a thief breaking into her own home and taking what she wants.
She walks to a desk in the living room and grabs a framed photo.
It’s her and Jared, not her and Jason. She tucks it into the second suitcase between folded sweaters.
I carry that one down too. When I come back up, she’s standing in the living room with a laptop bag over her shoulder, looking around the apartment like she’s running a checklist in her head.
“Anything else?” I ask.
She’s quiet for a second. Her eyes land on something in the corner, but she looks away.
“I’m good,” she says.
“You sure?”
“I am. I just need things so I can get back to my life. I’ll figure out the rest later. Plus,” she adds as she takes the photo of her and Jason down from the fridge and rips it in two, “I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. I’m ready to go.”
Hatchet Jack’s has twelve axe-throwing lanes and a bar that serves everything in cans. I pay for a lane and hand her an axe. She grips it with two fingers like I’ve handed her a live snake.
“What are we doing here? I’ve never thrown an axe in my life, Cole. I’ve never even touched one.”
“I know. That’s why we’re here.”
Dahlia looks at the axe and at me, wary. “I’m not sure about this.”
“You were moping on the couch and needed to get out of your head. This will help you get out of your head. Trust me on this.”
I step behind her and put my hands on her hips to square her stance.
Her breath catches and my entire body vibrates with lust. Her ass is an inch from my cock.
The heat pouring off her skin through the fabric hits my palms and my fingers dig into her hips harder than I mean to.
She leans back, her shoulder blades press against my chest and my cock thickens and I’m staring at the target wishing we could paste a picture of her asshole ex on the target.
But this is Jared’s little sister. Jared, who handed me his spare key and said make yourself at home and absolutely did not mean this. Fuck me. I’ve gotta be careful.
“Feet shoulder-width.” My voice is husky, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Straight back over your head. Release at the top. Don’t aim. Wait until I step to the side, then just throw it.”
She glances to make sure I’m safe, then she throws. It bounces off the wall and clatters to the floor.
“That was terrible,” she says.
“It was your first time. Try again.”
She goes again. She grunts when she throws and swears when she misses and wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist. On the eighth throw, the axe sticks in the outer ring.
She spins around and grabs my arm with both hands.
Her face is flushed, eyes bright, and she’s grinning so hard that I can see her back teeth. I’m proud of her.
“Did you see that? It stuck!”
Her fingers are tight on my arm as she bounces on her toes. I want to pick her up, put her legs around my waist, carry her out of this bar, and taste the sweat on her throat. I smile at her and pray she doesn’t look down and see the raging boner she’s given me.
She throws more axes, landing more throws, and I can see my plan is working. She laughs and cheers each time one sticks, and she’s having fun. When she says her arms are getting sore, we return the axes and grab some beers.
“When I talked to my brother, he told me you just got out of the SEALs.” She looks right at me, and the directness in her eyes takes me by surprise. “He didn’t say why.”
“Medical discharge. My body’s fine.” I look at the can in my hand because it still hurts to talk about all this.
I can’t look anyone in the eye when I share what happened.
“My head wasn’t in the right place. A mission went sideways; people got hurt.
I was the senior guy on the ground, and I made a call that—” I stop.
“I made a call. They decided I needed more time to sort through it than the Navy was willing to give me.”
She doesn’t fill the silence. Her eyes stay on mine as she waits, no look of pity or disgust on her face, only patience.
“I’m sorry,” she says. Nothing else. No but you seem fine. No have you tried therapy.
I look at her across the table, and my heart pounds so hard in my chest that I think it’s going to explode. “What about you?”
“I’m angry at myself.” She looks past me at the lanes, at nothing.
“Two years. Supposedly, almost everyone I knew was aware of what Jason was doing. I don’t have words to describe how much that hurts.
I don’t know if he was just good at hiding he was cheating, or if I was clueless and didn’t see obvious signs.
I keep looking for the moment I should’ve known and coming up blank. ”
“That’s on him. Not you.”
Her eyes come back to mine. “I picked him, Cole.”
“He lied to you. You trusted someone, and he wasn’t worth it. That’s not a failure of your judgment. That’s a failure of his character.”
She blinks hard and looks at her beer. When she looks up, her eyes are wet. Fuck. This was not supposed to happen tonight. I want to find Jason and put him through a wall.
“What made you come?” Her voice is lower now. “Friday night. You got a text from a stranger. Why didn’t you just write back sorry wrong number?”
“Someone was clearly in distress. Wasn’t something I could ignore.”
“Most people would’ve ignored it.” She watches my face.
“I’m not most people. I’ve run blind into situations far more dangerous than going to help a stranger in need.
And Dahlia, look at me,” I wait for her to look up.
“Believe me when I say it wasn’t your fault.
You’re smart and gorgeous, and he was a fucking fool to cheat on you. That’s his failing, not yours.”
“We are a bunch of doom and gloom,” she says, but she smiles and stands up. “Come on. My arm isn’t sore anymore. Teach me how to hit the bullseye.”
“Takes more than one lesson.”
“Can you deny me?” She tilts her head and I just stare at her. She’s flirting with me and it’s absolutely more dangerous than running into a firefight without body armor. “Come on. Jason thought stuff like this was trashy. He would never.”
“Yes.” I’m off my stool.
That piece of shit wouldn’t show up for her. I will. I’m going to show her she’s worth everything in the world, and I damn sure will do everything he wouldn’t do if that’s what will make her smile. I’m going to lift her up until she realizes that she’s a fucking queen.
I step behind her again, resting my hands on her hips. She presses back into me, and my cock goes harder than I knew was possible. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts. I stop breathing. Does she realize what she’s doing to me? Jared would kill me for what I’m thinking right now.
I don’t care.
“Loosen your grip. Let the handle do the work.”
She throws. It sticks two rings from center. She whips around and grabs my arm, shaking me and laughing, her whole face cracked open with it. I look down at her, and everything else is gone. Just her. Chalk dust on her fingers, hair in her face, that laugh coming up through her body into mine.
I’ve never seen anyone so fucking beautiful.
And I know she’s the one. The way you know a bullet will make the target the second it leaves the barrel, even before it hits.
She looks up at me, breathing hard, grinning. “Did you see that? Thank you for bringing me here!”
I am in love with this woman.