Even though I know she still feels the physical consequences of that night, the emotional damage has been far worse. She tries to muffle her sobs when she wakes up screaming in the night, but I hear her. It takes everything I have in me not to run to her every single time. If I wasn’t such a selfish bastard, I would. But I silence my urges and pretend her fake smile is fooling me every morning. I know we’ve gotten closer over the past few months, and I know she feels the same heat between us as I do. The jealousy that flared across her face every time the nurse came in to change her bandages while we were still in the hospital was a dead giveaway. What she doesn’t understand is there isn’t a woman alive that could compare to her. She is Aphrodite, and she deserves a man who worships at her feet. But I’m not that man, I can’t be.
I’ve never been a one-woman man, never even triedto commit my time and energy to one relationship. When I was a teenager, I was the poster boy for young and fucking dumb. I had a different girl on my arm every week and I thought I was hot shit. I knew my future was in the Marines, so I never felt the need to have a steady girlfriend back home. Why bother when I knew my intention was to get the fuck out of there as soon as I could? The only person I ever felt guilt for leaving behind was my sister, Ember. Being twins, we were more attuned to each other’s emotions and thoughts than most siblings. I knew it crushed her when I told her I intended to enlist, but it was my calling.
Four years and a lot of miles later, I’m a different man than I was then. Harder and colder, more understanding of the fact that this world is a dark and dangerous place. That understanding is the reason I won’t drag Kelsea into my shit. She's all sunshine and perfection. I won’t tarnish that glow. Her delicate fingers grip my t-shirt and my fists tighten around the handlebars at the contact. The fact that I can barely stand her touch without wanting to devour her is reason enough for me to keep my distance. I’ve got more blood on my hands than anyone in this town and she deserves better. I don’t regret anything I’ve done. Hell, I’m even proud of ending some of those lives. My sister’s ex? I’d gladly put a bullet in his head again and again with a smile on my face.
I glide easily through the familiar streets of Grovewood.This place has felt more like home to me than anywhere I’ve ever been. I never regret building a home and a business here with my best friend, Elijah. We ride past the tattoo shop he and I opened together and pride swells in my chest when I see the for sale sign on the space we plan on buying to expand next door. We’ve really built something great and I’m thankful for it. Sometimes, I’m not grateful to have introduced Elijah to Ember, but that’s mostly because watching them try to suck each other’s faces off every time they’re near each other is enough to make me want to gag. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy they found each other. I can tell they make each other happy and I’m stoked that I’m going to be an uncle soon. I guess a part of me just feels a sense of jealousy I don’t want to admit to when I see them together. Ember looks at Eli like he hung the fucking moon, and I don’t think I’ll never have that.
Kelsea taps her hand against my abs, pulling me from my thoughts and making my skin heat under her touch. I pull up along the curb next to Revamp and put the kickstand down, shutting off the engine. I wonder for a moment what it would feel like to have Kelsea’s hands wrapped around me all day and night. This ride was just too short. She braces her hands on my shoulders to climb off, and my muscles tense under her touch. I take a deep breath, hoping she didn’t feel it. She pulls her helmet off and her silky, dark hair spills out allaround her face. God, she's so fucking beautiful it damn near kills me.
“Told you I’d get you here in time, Kels.” I take the helmet from her and strap it in place on the back. “You ready for your first day?” I know I’m just making small talk to stay near her for a few more moments, but I don’t care. I’d do some shameless shit for this woman and she doesn’t even know it.
“I guess,” she says, looking over her shoulder with a worried look on her face. “I’m just nervous. I really need this job, and I don’t wanna fuck it up.” She heaves out a sigh, and I reach out to snag her wrist. I hear a small gasp escape her lips the second I touch her.
Even though I know I need to keep my distance from her, I hate the uncertainty on her face. I pull her into me and place a soft kiss on her forehead, breathing in the sweet almond scent of her shampoo. “You’re gonna do great,” I mumble against her skin. I feel her arms snake around my waist and slide up my back, latching on like she can leech her strength and confidence from me. If I could give it to her, I would. I reluctantly release her and instantly feel the urge to pull her back, but I don’t. This can’t happen, and we both know it. She deserves better, regardless of what she believes.
She steps back out of my arms, quickly schooling her emotions. She tries hiding the conflicted look on her face, but I already caught it. “Well, thanks.” Her tone istense and clipped. “I really appreciate you getting up to give me a ride and for the vote of confidence. I have a feeling I’m gonna need it,” she plasters on the tight, fake smile she gives everyone else, and I hate it. I want the real Kelsea, all the emotions and pain that come with her. But I don’t push it.
She turns to walk into the store, her long dark hair a stark contrast to the white crop top she's wearing. “Hey, Kels,” I yell to her just before she reaches the door, “what time do you get off today?”
“I think 4. Why?” She knows I won’t let her fucking hitchhike her way back home. She just wants to hear me say it.
“I’ll be right here when you’re done. I have to run by the shop around 3 to meet with Eli and Helo, but I’ll be here. Don’t leave without me, okay?” My tone holds authority. Most people find me demanding, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Thats really unnecessary, Ev. I’m sure I can find my way back home. I don’t want to put you out more than I already have,” she says, her hands sliding into her back pockets. Standing that way, her perfect tits are pushedup and on display, just begging for me to run my hands and tongue over them. I push down the lust racing through my veins and shake my head to clear the thoughts.
“I said I’ll be here. Just wait,” I don’t leave any room for argument as I slip my helmet back on and start my bike. I can tell she wants to argue, but the loud rumble of the pipes makes it impossible to hear her. She turns on her heel to walk into the shop, rolling her eyes as she goes. That woman has a fire that can’t be contained, and I’d let it burn me alive if I could.
three
I’m notsure what I expected from my first day at Revamp. But it definitely wasn’t a sleazy middle age man for a manager who won’t stop checking out my tits every time I try to ask him a question. Malcom, who has told me at least six times today that he was once a college athlete, is an overweight, balding man who stands about 5’ 10”. He is definitely not what I expected in a place as trendy and stylish as this. My one saving grace has been Magnolia Monroe, the perfect southern princess who works here for fun and to get away from her overbearing mother. I am well aware of that feeling, of needing an escape. When I saw her flawlessly styled strawberry blonde hair and matching sundress, I thought for sure I was going to have an instant enemy. But she is the definition of ‘don’t judge a bookby its cover’. She has been so sweet to me today, explaining everything she can and calling Malcom out on his inappropriate behavior. Her take no shit attitude is a direct contrast to her demure looks, and I love it.
I watch the last hour of my shift tick by as slow as humanly possible and I struggle to keep my eyes open. We had a nice little rush around lunch time but the rest of the afternoon has been quiet. Maggie said she usually uses that downtime to finish studying. I’ve learned that she is going to community college online for now to get her teaching degree. She says her dream is to teach kindergarten and I think that sounds like insanity. Willingly subjecting yourself to twenty hyped-up 5-year-olds? No thanks, I’ll pass.
“Well, Kelsea, I think your first day has gone remarkably well.” Malcom stands in front of the counter I’m leaning on, his eyes fixed on the small amount of cleavage I’m showing in this shirt. I make a mental note to keep the girls fully covered whenever I know he’s going to be here. I can feel his slimy gaze dragging across my body, and I have to fight the urge to gag.
I back up to put even more distance between us. “Yeah, it’s been great. Maggie has been so helpful.” I give him my best pageant smile, perfected over two decades of coaching.
“Magnolia, yes. She's a good worker. Young, but that’s what brings in the customers, eh?” He gives me acreepy sneer and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at his smug expression.
“Yeah. Thanks for giving me a shot here. I think this is a good fit for me.” I do my best to change the subject and end this conversation, but he continues his obvious perusal of my body. Since my attack, my self-confidence has taken a colossal hit. I can’t stand to see myself naked. I do all I can to avoid seeing the scars that mar my skin. They’re just a constant reminder of what I may never have.
I never gave much thought to having children. I always assumed I would some day, but it wasn’t something I craved. When I applied to Duke’s Civil Engineering program, I think I always believed it was a long shot that I’d even be accepted. I didn’t tell my parents I’d applied. My mother was pushing me to enroll in the University of North Carolina and meet some handsome, pre-med future husband. I know she expected me to follow in her footsteps, going to college long enough to secure a wealthy husband, then dropping out to become a housewife. Nothing against that life, it’s just not for me. I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives. The day I got my acceptance letter to Duke was the first time I actually felt like I was on the right path, my own path.
“Malcom, I think the inventory lists for last week are off,” I hear Maggie say from the doorway that leads to the back room. I send her a silent thank you for taking his attention off of me and she gives me a soft smile.
“Impossible. I did them myself,” he says as he follows her into the office. Pompous, arrogant men disgust me. As if he could never make a mistake.
My mind carelessly drifts to the man who haunts my every waking thought. Everett Blake, my knight in black armor. The man is the definition of drool worthy. Truly, every woman’s daydream. Thinking back to the first time I ever saw him, I’ve always had a physical pull to him.
I knew I had left my sociology textbook in Ember’s apartment when we were studying together the night before. If I hadn’t needed it for my class in 30 minutes, I wouldn’t have even bothered trekking across campus to her place. It was an exceptionally rainy day in a string of rainy days. My dark skinny jeans and red chuck Taylors were already soaked through, so why not trudge my way through the puddles? I ran across campus as quickly as I could, fishing in my backpack for my spare key to Ember’s place in the process. Letting myself into the building, I made the climb up to the third floor, my body soaked and dripping water through the halls. I knock on the door, not wanting to scare her in case she's home. No answer. I let myself in and drop my bag on the floor just inside the door. After the first month of our friendship, it was as if I’d always known Ember. She was my soul sister in every way. Especially in the way that sisters share clothes. I stripped my soaked clothes off in layers and did my best not to make a giganticmess on her floor as I walked back towards her bedroom.
My shirt is so drenched it’s practically glued to my body. I attempt to peel it up over my head, but it gets tangled in my hair. I let out a frustrated grunt as I fight with the fabric.
“Well, I usually learn a girl’s name before they strip for me, but I’m not complaining,” I hear a deep, masculine voice say in front of me.
I let out a shriek and attempt to pull my shirt back down, but it’s a lost cause. If this guy is a burglar, I might as well already be dead. In the struggle, my wet shoes slip and I fall right onto my ass, shirt half on, half off, in front of a strange man, in an apartment that isn’t even mine. How delightful. “Who the hell are you?!” I yell, finally wrangling my shirt over my sheer lace bra. I’m sure I gave this guy a great show.
“Um, shouldn’t I be asking you that? I know you don’t live here, yet you’re getting naked in the living room,” he laughs, propping his hip against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.
