Beautiful Storm (16 page)

“But…” he urges. I should’ve known better than to call Bear if I didn’t want to explain myself.

“Layla called by the workshop today. She said Lizzie has gone off the radar.” I signal to Suzie for another round, because the buzz I was getting is beginning to fade rapidly, and I need that feeling back, and more. I need oblivion, lots and lots of dark nothingness to soothe my black and burned soul.

She lands two more frothy-headed pints down in front of us, and I nod in thanks.

“What the hell does that mean, and who the fuck is Layla?” I can hear the irritation in his voice. He pulls his phone from his pocket, stares at the screen, and then taps an angry text. But I know he’s listening to me.

“Layla is Boo, Lizzie’s best friend, and I don’t know, mate. I cut and ran after she said she needed my help, called you, and here I am.”

“Come on, Noah, there’s more to this than what you’re telling me.”

“Not really.” I huff, and down my pint in one continuous gulp.

“Mate, you’ve got to give me something to work with here. If you think I’m going to leave this shit alone now, you’re sadly mistaken.”

I give up the fight, and draw in a deep breath. I relay the conversation word for word back to him, in the hope he can fathom what’s going on.

“Are you worried?” Concern laces through his voice.

“Hell no.” I glance over at my best friend and he raises his eyebrows at me. “Shit, man, of course I’m fucking worried. To disappear on me, that’s one thing. To do it to Layla? She wouldn’t.” I return my stare to the empty bottom of my glass.

“So, do you think Layla knows about you, us?” he asks in a hushed tone.

I whip my head back to him. “You make it sound like I’m fucking
you
.” A grin finally appears back on my face. “You know I love you, mate, but you’re not my type.”

He punches me, hard, giving me a dead arm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He grins at me. But there’s seriousness in his tone and eyes.

“No.” I shake my head, resolute. “I never told Lizzie; she didn’t have a clue.” The familiar nag in my conscious rings in my head.
She never would’ve been with me if she’d known
.

On any day of the week I can turn her into an evil hell bitch. But the truth is she was my salvation. She soothed me in a way not one thing on this planet, living or dead, could do. Her presence made my waste of a life worth living. She
did
make me want to a better person, she
was
my better half, and all that other soft shit I hear spouted around by lovesick tossers.

I’m one sad, sorry son of a bitch because now every woman is Lizzie. Every kiss I give, I’m giving it to her. Every touch, every thrust of my hips, every groan which escapes my lips is hers
.
Every. Fucking. Thing. But they’re not her, and the actions are hollow, so they have no heart. Like me.

I realise I’ve been lost in my own mind but Bear hasn’t interrupted my train of thought. Instead, he’s grabbed Suzie’s attention, had the pints refilled, and added shots to the equation. I look towards him and he gives me a half-hearted smirk.

“Tonight we get wasted; we can talk to Layla tomorrow.” With that, we both knock back our shots.

“Oh, God, Noah.” Lizzie writhes beneath me as I plunge deep into her. Her lips are slightly parted as she moans.

Her sun-kissed hair’s fanned out on the pillow behind her. Her chest heaves with each breath she takes, thrusting her perfect tits towards my mouth. I grasp one of her nipples in between my finger and thumb and slowly pinch and turn. She groans in such a wanton manner that I can’t control my pace. I lean down, taking the other in my mouth, and suck hard. Her warm walls flex and compress around my cock, creating a tighter grip on me. My hips thrust harder, quicker.

“Oh, yes, Noah, yes, oh, God.”

I can’t stop. I need release. I need it now. My breath is ragged, I’m too close, so is Lizzie. With a final few hard drives, she throws her head back and screams my name. It pushes me over the edge and I cum, hard. “Fuck yes.”

I wake with a start, completely disorientated. My stomach, wet and sticky, and heart pounding so hard in my chest I think I may pass out. What the hell? Am I a teenager now? I lie panting, trying to regain some composure. Fuck. My head feels like it has elephants tap-dancing on bongos in it, and my mouth is dry as a bone.

I half sit up and reach for the water I’d had the foresight to take to bed with me. Taking a few thirst-quenching gulps, I drain the glass and slam it back down on the bedside table. I grab some tissues from the box, clean myself up, and throw the paper balls across the room towards the bin. It misses by miles.

Throwing my head back on my pillow, the sweat starts to seep from my pores, and I instantly regret the action. My stomach gurgles and bile rises in my throat. Having no option, I fling the covers off me and slam into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. I stay clinging to the bowl for dear life, as last night’s alcohol re-emerges with a vengeance. I feel as rough as a badger’s arse.

After what seems like forever I get up and head down into the kitchen. I must be still wasted. I have absolutely no coordination and bang into everything in sight. Hanging my head over the kitchen sink, I turn on the cold tap and let it run before sticking my whole head under the flow. I leave it there a few moments, hoping the cold will numb my splitting headache. I grab the nearest towel and bury my face in it. After drying myself up, I turn and lean against the counter, only to find a fresh-faced Bear grinning at me from the doorway.

“Feeling better?” the sarcastic bastard asks me. He must have heard me praying to the porcelain gods.

“Yeah, I feel great, mate,” I answer sarcastically. “I always love the feeling of being run over by a ten tonne truck. It starts my day off great.”

After the years of practice I’ve had, I hoped I’d grown out of hangovers, but I think they are steadily getting worse. Hair of the dog; that’s what’s needed. I stalk over to the fridge and start rummaging through it. I’m sure there’s beer in here somewhere.

“I see someone’s woke up a little grumpy this morning.” He’s looking for a rise from me and to be quite honest I can’t be arsed. I feel like death, so I scowl at him instead. I find what I’m looking for and pull a can out of the fridge, but before it can be opened Bear has swiped it out of my hand.

“No fucking way. You aren’t going down that route again,” he snaps at me.

“Who are you, my fucking keeper?” My temper rises, the elephants are getting louder, and my whole body shakes from the alcohol still raging in my system. I want to rip his head from his shoulders and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“Get your shit together, Noah. I’m not picking that roadkill off the ground again.” He scowls at me. “Lizzie’s not even around and look at the state of you. God knows what you’d do to yourself if you ever saw her again. I let you have last night, but that’s it. You’re not doing it again. I won’t fucking let you. You shagging around no one gives a shit about, but this? Not a chance in hell, mate. You almost destroyed yourself last time. Get. A. Fucking. Grip.” His teeth clench and his lips fall into a hard line.

Reality slaps me in the face. The anger, which coursed through my veins like magma, has rushed from my body, and my shoulders slump in defeat. Weakness overtakes my muscles and I can barely stand, the anger taking all my energy, leaving me with nothing. Bear’s right. I need to get myself together, but nothing affects me like Lizzie. I thought I’d banished her to the far regions of my memory, locked her away, never to see the light of day. But with Layla coming around everything’s messed up. My internal filing system has been ransacked, and my personal papers are strewn all around the floor in chaos.

I’m kidding myself. She was never banished. Every minute of every hour Lizzie is in my thoughts. When I walked out the door I ripped out my heart, and for every moment since I’ve slowly lost another part of me. I’m so fucking empty without her, and I can’t find my way back to even half full. I didn’t fight for her, for us. I’ve played that day over in my head a million times, and every time I keep coming back to those stormy eyes. She pushed me away with words, but her eyes told me something entirely different, and I didn’t see clearly when I needed to the most.

I need to talk to Layla. I need to find out exactly what’s going on. That’s if she’s willing to talk to the complete psycho she met yesterday.

Lost in my own head, I hadn’t noticed Bear had left the room. I mentally pick myself up and head off into the lounge to find him.

“You’re right, man, I’m being a dick.” I drop my shoulders in defeat.

“Yeah, too right, you are.”

“I need to go over to the workshop to see Spud. Layla looked like she left him with her contact info, you coming?” I ask.

He nods at me. “I’ll always have your back, mate, but do you think dragging yourself over hot coals is going to do you any good?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” I slap him on the back and we turn and head out the front door. “But you better drive.”

B
EAR AND I
ride over to the shop in silence, and when we arrive I’m thankful Spud’s van is outside. As we walk in we’re met by the usual strains of rock music. At least today he’s playing it a few decibels less than ear-shattering.

Spud pops his head out from under a blue Mustang. “Wondered how long it would take you. It’s on your desk.”

“What is?” I try to play innocent, but it doesn’t sit right; I’m far from that.

“No need to play coy with me, mate, I’m a sure thing.” He bats his eyelashes at me, chuckles, and slides back under the car. I head off into my office. But I come to an abrupt stop as soon as I walk in the door. My sight hones in on my desk and Bear slams into my back.

“What the fuck, mate?” he splutters.

“What if she’s in trouble?” I stare at the harmless business card lying on my desk like it’s diseased, afraid to touch it.

“Why would she be in trouble?” Bear asks, whilst pushing me forward to make room for him to enter my office.

“Why would she just disappear without a word if she wasn’t?”

“Stop answering questions with more questions, and keep in mind she’s a woman. You know they’re a law unto themselves.”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine and into my bones isn’t convinced.

I’m still stuck to the floor, motionless, and eyeing the card. Bear looks at me, huffs, and picks it up. I snatch it out of his hands and glare at it some more. Interior designer. That figures.

Bear groans and rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “For fuck’s sake, Noah, call the woman.”