If You Leave: The Beautifully Broken Series: Book 2 Page 9

  There is an awkward pause as I stand next to my car.

  I can tell he’s contemplating kissing me and I dread the thought.

  Don’t, I silently instruct him. But instead of expecting him to read my mind, I solve the problem by raising myself up on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

  “Sure,” I murmur.

  Ethan stares down at me as the top of my car lowers.

  “I’ll call you this week, OK?”

  I nod and get into my car, and as I drive away, I mentally examine myself.

  I hate candy-ass guys but I also hate bullies. My father was a bully. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now.

  Even bullies who are sexy as hell. Especially bullies who are sexy as hell, because they just draw me in toward something that I need to stay far away from. Because Mila was right the other night—I do tend to pick the wrong guys. I tend to be attracted to the wrong guys.

  Honestly, I’m starting to think that there is no one out there for me. I don’t like the guys I should, and the guys I like are bad for me. Maybe I’m destined to be alone.

  When I walk into my empty house, it only emphasizes that fact.

  I’m alone.

  I kick off my shoes, drop my purse on a table in the foyer and collapse into a chair in the living room with a bottle of wine.

  Just the bottle, no glass.

  I dangle my legs over the side of the chair as I think about the evening.

  Thoughts of Ethan make me cringe. Besides annoying me with his judgment of Pax, Ethan just lacks something. A spark, a passion. I can’t put my finger on it, but whatever it is, I doubt he’s ever going to make me feel the way I want someone to make me feel.

  But Gabriel does.

  One smoldering look from him sends my pulse racing, bully or not.

  We need to finish what we started.

  Fuck. What is wrong with me? Why am I so stuck on someone I shouldn’t want… but do?

  All I know is Gabriel has that certain kind of confidence. The kind that turns my stomach inside out. And there’s something else about him, too… something intriguing. I don’t even know him, but there’s something in his eyes, something dark and haunted that draws me to him.

  I ponder that for a minute; ponder what he might have seen in Afghanistan that was so terrible that it scarred him inside. What turned him into a panicky mess the night of the taxi accident?

  Because he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who panics.

  In my head I see him jogging on the beach again, all huge and strong and disciplined. Judging by how sweaty he was, I bet he’d been jogging for miles and yet he was still going, just like a machine. He’s clearly a force to be reckoned with.

  Yet something has the power to bring him to his knees. It’s a puzzle.

  My eyes flutter closed as I picture Gabriel’s rippling muscles, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. I picture him crawling up and over me, rubbing against me, his fingers stroking me.

  Oh my God. My eyes snap open and my cheeks flush as I realize I just drifted into a fantasy about Gabriel. He’s a guy that is made of everything that scares me.

  He will hurt you.

  I know that.

  Yet at the same time, I know he’s a guy who can turn me on in one second flat.

  What the eff is wrong with me?

  * * *

  “Madison, there is something wrong with you,” Jacey sighs, shaking her head as she sifts through a rack of spring blouses. “Seriously. I know some girls who would give their left ovary to date Ethan Eldridge and you’re standing here complaining that he doesn’t do it for you? Let’s recap, shall we? He’s gorgeous, he’s a doctor, and did I mention that he’s a gorgeous freaking doctor?”

  I roll my eyes as I pull out a pink tunic and examine it. It would look perfect with my gray skinny jeans so I drape it over my arm.

  “He’s a resident doctor and he is good-looking. But I’ve just known him too long. I want the butterflies… that fluttery feeling that you get when you meet someone amazing. And besides, why are you on Team Ethan so hard right now? I thought you wanted me to date your brother.”

  I stare pointedly at her and she doesn’t even have the grace to look sheepish.

  She simply stares back at me. “Because he was sort of rude yesterday, not exactly a great first impression. I just figured you wouldn’t want to give him a chance.”

  Actually, Gabe made one hell of a first impression.

  I smile as I think of him outside the club that night. He was so cocky and sexy in the alley behind the club, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to him. My heart speeds up just thinking about it. I shouldn’t like that shit… that alpha, ultra-confident bad-boy shit. But I do. I can’t help it.

  “He didn’t make a bad first impression,” I tell Jacey. “It was the second impression that sucked.”

  Jacey crows when she sees the expression on my face.

  “I knew it! I knew you liked him. Maddy, I promise you, he’s perfect for you. Just give him another chance. Puh-leeeease! It will be easy for you too. He’s going to stay here with me for a while because of Jared. Big Brother Gabriel is going to fight my battles for me.”

  Jacey hands me a blue peasant blouse to try on. “He’ll be with me for at least a couple of weeks. I’m sure he’ll be into the Hill a lot to eat. He doesn’t really cook.”

  I look up at her. “You know we have a delivery service. He won’t even have to come in. We can deliver meals right to his door.”

  Jacey laughs. “Whatever. You know you want to see him. I can tell.”

  Heaven help me, I do. But I’d never admit it to her. To admit my infatuation to her would make it real. And I can’t make it real or act on it because it’s not good for me. At all.

  So instead I just shake my head.

  “I don’t need to see him. And he’s not into me anyway, so it’s all a moot point.”

  That’s a lie, but I figure it might shut Jacey down.

  But no.

  Jacey glances up at me, even more interested now.

  “You don’t think he’s into you?” Her eyes gleam. “Because I can find out for you.”

  “Oh my God,” I groan. “We’re not in fourth grade. Leave it alone, Jace.”

  “Whatever,” Jacey mutters. “But if you change your mind, I’ll give you his number and you can call him yourself.”

  I can tell that she’s not sure whether I’m telling the truth or not about not wanting to see her brother. And to be honest, I’m not sure either.

  Because even though I know I shouldn’t, I find myself thinking about him all the time. I think about his husky voice in my ear and his hand between my legs in that taxi. I think about his dark, dark gaze and how it sets my skin on fire from across the room.

  But even more telling than my runaway thoughts is one interesting thing.

  I haven’t thrown his number away. It’s neatly folded and tucked inside my purse, along with the accompanying message.

  We need to finish what we started.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabriel

  The night is so fucking black that I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. I groan, try to move, then give up. I try to hear, try to see, try to move the rest of my body… but fail on all counts. The shadows move around me and I’m too weak to care. I don’t feel anything and I think that’s odd. I should be in fucking pain and for a second I’m panicked that I’m paralyzed.

  I calm down when I realize I’m probably just in shock. I groan again, trying to get up, but I realize it’s not happening.

  And then I smell it.

  Blood.

  Brand and Mad Dog are out there and I’ve got to see if they’re alive. The smell of blood is strong in the breeze, as well as burning metal, hissing gas and dust. Fuck. It takes me a minute, but I finally manage to flip onto my belly and drag myself by my elbows.

  I’m definitely not paralyzed and fuck, the pain has arrived. My head is screaming, but I’ve got to find m
y friends.

  Inch by painful inch, I pull myself through the carnage-riddled dust. A twisted piece of our Humvee is lodged in the ground to my left, and I can smell melting rubber as a tire burns to my right.

  And then, through the smoke, I see a face on the side of the road, bloody and mud-spattered. My heart hammers as I try like hell to get to it, to see if it’s Brand or Mad Dog… until I arrive and find that it’s neither.

  The girl’s eyes are wide and open. And lifeless.

  She stares at me, blaming me.

  I remember everything and the memories slam into me like a freight train.

  It’s all my fault.

  The pain in my head intensifies, like a million shards of glass, and everything fades to black.

  I wake up in a cold sweat, my sheets drenched with my terror, my throat bone dry.

  I lie still for a minute, sucking in coarse breaths of air as I try to force myself to calm down. The dream is so fucking real, though, as if every memory from that night is permanently imprinted in my mind. Which, of course, it is. I’m never going to be free of it.

  I reach for a glass of water to soothe my parched throat, only to find that I don’t have a nightstand here. I’d forgotten.

  I pull myself into a sitting position, running a hand through my hair, before I get out of bed and make my way to the kitchen in the dark. I’m still unnerved by my fucking dream, and even the shadows cast in this dark and familiar kitchen make me uneasy. The luminescent microwave clock tells me that it’s five thirty a.m. The sun should be coming up soon.

  I grab a bottle of water and slump into a chair at the kitchen table, gazing absently outside. Jacey’s car isn’t in the driveway, which means she didn’t come home last night. That’s a fact that pisses me off.

  Yes, she’s an adult. Yes, normally she could stay over at her boyfriend’s without a problem. But shit. I’m here so that she feels safe. If she doesn’t even bother to come home, there’s no sense in me being here.

  I drink the water, then drink one more bottle. My mouth is still dry when I’m finished. The night terrors always affect me in a very physical way… headaches, sweat, shortness of breath. It’s like I’m actually back in Afghanistan, actually reliving that night over and over. It’s a pain in the ass.

  I toss the bottles into the recycling bin and head to the bathroom. I know there’s no way I’m going back to sleep now. I turn the water on and I’m waiting for it to heat up when I hear the back door quietly open.

  Jacey.

  I fling open the bathroom door and storm down the hallway to find her creeping quietly through the kitchen.

  “Welcome home,” I say grimly as I flip on the light. She blinks in the brightness, then grins at me.

  “Hey, big brother,” she says, as she trips on a rug. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  She’s obviously drunk.

  “You do realize that you’re supposed to be at work in a few hours,” I point out. She doesn’t seem concerned.

  “I’ll be fine,” she slurs. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a big girl. What’s your problem?”

  “My problem would be lost on you at this particular moment,” I tell her. “But trust me, we’ll be talking about it later. If you ever drive home drunk again, you won’t need Jared to manhandle you. I’ll kick your little ass myself. Go sleep it off. We’ll talk when you’re coherent.”

  “Whatever,” she mutters as she wobbles down the hall. “Shows how much you know. Jared’s still messing with me. He’s been texting me all night. Said he’s going to teach you a lesson.” She kicks off one of her heels, then throws the other down the hallway in frustration.

  “Don’t trip on my shoe,” she calls helpfully over her shoulder.

  I shake my head as I follow her, stooping to pick up the offending shoe. I toss it into her bedroom as I head to the shower, stewing the entire time over my sister’s dumbass ex-boyfriend and her irresponsibility. If he’s been texting her all night, why the fuck didn’t she call and tell me?

  But there’s no use trying to talk about it with her right now. It won’t do any good because she wouldn’t remember the conversation in the morning. I grit my teeth and try to find things to distract myself with. I clean my boots, rig the bug bombs for the spiders in the basement, and clean out my car.

  Unfortunately, though, four hours later I find myself insanely restless. Jacey is still snoring in her room, although I know she’ll have to get up soon if she’s going to make it to work by eleven.

  I’ve answered some work e-mails, touched base with Brand on the phone and gone for a thirty-minute run on the beach.

  Luckily, this time I didn’t run into the candy-ass that Madison was with last night. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what she sees in someone like that. She actually took his side when he bitched at me for getting his fucking pants wet.

  There’s no logical reason that I can think of that she would prefer that guy over me.

  I pointedly ignore the one thing that it might be… the thing that I’m hoping like hell it’s not. She might be totally turned off by me because of what she saw that night in Chicago. She might have seen too much and now she thinks I’m crazy. Or a pussy.

  Neither of those things is good but the problem is I have no idea what she’s thinking. She wants me. I can tell. But she’s icy as hell too.

  I shake my head.

  I’m gonna have to stop trying to figure women out, because they make no fucking sense. I’m definitely not going to sit here stewing over it, but I have nothing left to do. So I do the only thing that makes sense to me.

  I head out to find a gym. Lifting weights always burns restless energy. Besides, I can’t stop working out just because I’m no longer in the army.

  It doesn’t take me long to find the gym since Angel Bay only has one. That actually doesn’t surprise me in a town this small. In fact, I’m surprised that it has one at all.

  I’m signed up as a member and headed back to the weight room within a few minutes. This gym is old-school, nothing fancy. The walls are white and covered with inspirational posters.

  NO PAIN, NO GAIN.

  YOU MISS 100% OF THE SHOTS YOU DON’T TAKE.

  CLEAR YOUR MIND OF “CAN’T.”

  THE ONLY WAY TO FINISH IS TO START.

  All true, all cliché.

  But whatever. Cliché or not, this is the kind of place I like. There’s no coffee bar, lounge area or girls dressed to the nines. This is a gym meant for people to work out in. Those fancy places in the city make me want to punch a hole in the wall. I don’t go to the gym to pick women up. I go to work out.

  I do fifty curls with the twenty-pound weight before switching to the other arm. As I breathe out through my mouth, slowly and evenly, I notice Madison’s brother-in-law across the room on the hip sled. Seeing someone familiar shouldn’t surprise me since this town is so fucking small. I can’t go anywhere without bumping into someone.

  He catches my gaze and after a few minutes makes his way over to me, holding out a sweaty hand.

  “I’m Pax Tate. My wife Mila introduced herself to you the other night. I’m not as social as she is, so I didn’t interrupt your dinner.” The way he’s grinning, it’s clear Madison’s sister has this guy wrapped around her finger.

  I chuckle at the memory. “It was no problem. I get the feeling that Angel Bay doesn’t get many new people. She was curious. And thanks for stepping up with Jared. I didn’t get a chance to say anything to you that night.”

  Pax rolls his eyes. “Mila thought you might need some backup. I was pretty sure you had it under control. And yeah, she’s curious. More about you and her sister, but whatever. Women.” He rolls his eyes again. “I could use a spotter for the bench. You got a second?”

  “Sure.” I get up and follow him to the bench, waiting until he is situated on his back before lifting the three-hundred-pound-laden bar off the rungs and handing it to him.

  “Why is Mila fascinated with Madison and me?” I ask as
I count his reps. He’s strong and in shape. He does fifteen with no problem before setting the bar back into the holder.

  “Because Maddy doesn’t date. You’re the first person she’s shown any interest in for a long time. And trust me, Mila is fascinated with that.”

  “By ‘showing interest,’ do you mean that she absolutely refused to even look at me the other day in the restaurant? Until she bitched at me for being too rough with Jared, that is.”

  Pax looks at me as we switch places and he hands me the bar. As I bench the weight, I explain how we met and how she definitely didn’t want anyone to hear about it at the Hill, especially her sister. He bursts out laughing.

  “That does sound like Madison. She wouldn’t want to give Mila any ammunition. Was she mad that you dared to show up at her restaurant or what?”

  I nod, hooking the bar into the rungs again, then pausing to catch my breath. “Apparently.”

  “Typical Madison,” Pax chuckles. “But deep down she’s sweet, once you get past her outer bitchiness. I heard her bitch at you for the Jared thing. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but she’s got hang-ups with that shit so don’t take it personally. Mila and Madison’s dad used to knock their mom around so she’s got a thing about any kind of violence at all.”

  I stare at him for a minute, thinking back to the other night at the Hill when she told Jacey that her dad had a temper like Jared’s.

  “Shit,” I mutter aloud. “Seriously?”

  Pax nods. “Seriously.”

  I think of Madison, of how she’s so confident and strong, and I can’t picture her involved in an abusive relationship of any sort.

  “Did their dad hit them, or just their mom?”

  Pax shakes his head as we switch places so he can do his second set. “He never laid a hand on Mila. But I can’t say for sure about Maddy. It’s not exactly something we sit down and talk about.”

  Pax stops talking as he runs out of breath while he’s benching. I let this conversation go. It’s not my business and I can see that he’s not that comfortable talking about it anyway.

  When we switch places for my second set, Pax changes the subject.