Beautiful Storm (21 page)

H
ER WARM AND
tender hand brushes over my back, sending shockwaves to my already painfully swollen cock.

“Don’t.” I spit out the word, withdrawing away from her. “Just… don’t.” The words die on my lips as pain grips at my chest.

I’m a walking mass of contradictions. My body’s begging for release, for me to thrust back inside her, and finish what I started… what she started. But my mind’s racing with everything she’s told me and the fact that she’s not fucking mine. Never been mine. Fuck. I only want a taste of her, to feel her soften beneath me, to hear those breathy gasps that leave her body when my hands roam over her.

No fucking willpower, you stupid bastard.

All I’ve done is create a mess of epic proportions. She didn’t need that; she didn’t need me taking from her. She’s already had far too much taken from her. No woman should have to go through what she has. The grip on my heart tightens a fraction more.

At least that kills the hard-on I was rocking. Shame it didn’t stop it from rising to the occasion in the first fucking place.

Lizzie’s gentle but tortured laugh breaks through my thoughts. I give up the fight and turn to look at her. The pain etched on her face almost brings me to my knees.

“I’m more yours than you could ever realise, Noah.” Her stormy eyes scan my face as she continues. “Half of me has always been here with you.”

My heart races with her words, but there’s hesitation in her tone and uncertainty in her features. Her shoulders stiffen, but her eyes light up, causing the pounding in my chest to stop mid beat.

She takes a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for so long, but there’s something I need to tell you.” Her gaze flicks to the floor before returning to rest on my face, looking me square in the eye. “There’s someone else in my life now, he’s…”

No, no, no, no, no.
Fuck no!

“Stop. I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Furious, I raise my palm to her to cut her off.

I do a quick scan for my clothes. Picking them up, I shrug them on violently. I feel like I’m having déjà vu. My head is a mass of screaming obscenities and… Alex. Fuck. Why didn’t I remember that bastard before I stuck my cock in her?

“Noah, let me explain,” her soft voice pleads with me, trying to continue, to make me listen. “He’s…”

Pain ricochets through every part of my body. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Fucking. Hear. It.” I can’t take it, not again. The last remaining burnt and crusted parts of my heart disintegrate to dust.

Never enough.

I need to get out. Get away from the fucking woman that has tormented me for years.

“Noah!” Her voice cracks with something, probably fucking guilt.

I turn to face her for a fraction of a second. My eyes hopefully show her they’re as black as my soul. In that moment, I realise that I let her break me.

Never fucking mine.

I push out the last few words. “Show yourself out.” Turning around, I walk away, slamming the door shut behind me.

Striding out into the workshop, I notice Spud trying to look busy by shifting tools around. Fuck. When did he come back from his test drive? Every muscle in my body is taut with anger, my fists clenched. He raises his chin to me in greeting, and tension radiates off him. I glance over my shoulder at the back room door.

Great, he fucking heard me get shafted again
.

“You going to Macy’s?”

It’s a small question from Spud, which implies so much. Unable to speak, I nod in acknowledgement. Patting my pockets to check for my key and wallet, I head out of the open roller shutters and to the two places I can lose myself. My bike, and my constant companion—the bottom of a bottle.

She loves someone else.

My world explodes for the second time. How do I move past this fucking nightmare? All this time I’ve been hanging on to the tiny sliver of hope that maybe she loved me, but she loves someone else. It’s got to be that Alex fucker.

“Fill me up, Suzie?” I bang my empty bottle down. My words slur and my brain’s foggy. I just want some peace from the constant replay in my head.

“There’s someone else in my life now…”

I place my forehead on my folded arms on the bar top. I’m a mess. I know I’m a mess. That’s why she doesn’t love me, because I’m a mess. My fucking emotions are all over the place. I hear a new bottle being placed in front of me, but I can’t look up because then Suzie would see me naked.

Maybe she’d like to?

“Noah, do you want me to call Bear?” Her concerned voice intrudes on my personal hell.

I don’t lift my head, but shake it, hoping she’ll get the message and leave me the fuck alone. No one can fill this ache.

“It’s all right, Suz. I’ve got it from here.”

I recognise the voice as Spud’s, but my head’s swimming. My vision’s swimming, in fact, the whole world’s swimming. This is what it must feel like to be a fish being dragged to the surface.

“Come on, mate, home time.” Spud pats me on the back and I lift my head to look at him, but it feels too heavy and falls back onto my arms. I roll it to the side instead and squint at him. The lights are far too bright.

“I just want to be on my own. Leave me alone,” I manage to mumble out.

“I know, mate. But you can be alone once I get you home. Okay?”

What he says makes some sort of sense in my fuddled brain so I try to stand but haphazardly fall into him instead. My legs give way under my weight.

“Whoa, steady, Noah. You’re going to land on your arse if you’re not careful.”

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the friends I have. I rack my brain thinking of a reason but come up empty-handed. Well, at least I chose them right. I’m not so shit-hot at choosing the right woman, though.

“She doesn’t love me,” I mutter under my breath, as Spud drags me out of the bar, taking my weight on his shoulders.

“Who? Lizzie?”

Who fucking else? I nod my drunken head wearily. “She doesn’t love me. She loves him.” The finality of the statement I just made makes me want to cry. And if I had enough strength, I’d knock myself out cold.

“Fuck, man, you’re making no sense. I knew I’d find you in a state. I shouldn’t have fucking left you this long,” he says, more to himself than me.

We reach his van and Spud props me up against the side while he finds his keys and unlocks the doors. He turns back just as I begin to slide down the side. Grabbing hold of my T-shirt, he then lifts me, and hauls me into the passenger side.

“Bloody hell, have you been bathing in the stuff? You smell like shit.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and slams the door. The sound of it makes my head pound. My eyelids begin to droop. I’m so fucking tired. I just want to go to sleep. As my eyes close, I hear him make a phone call.

“Hi, it’s me. Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s in a right state… No, that’s really not a good idea, mate. He’s shit-faced. I’m taking him home. What? I don’t think so. Hold on a minute. I’ll ask but I don’t know if I’ll get a coherent answer.” Spud directs his conversation at me.

“Noah, you bagged anyone tonight?”

What the hell is he asking me for? Have I? I think I did, but it could have been my imagination. A vision flashes in my mind, caramel hair and storm grey eyes.

“Lizzie,” I choke out.

“It’s okay, mate.” Spud pats me on the head.

Am I a fucking dog, tonight? He returns to his phone conversation.

“No, mate. He mentioned Lizzie, and that’s it… Cool. See you later.” He hangs up.

I think I must have passed out, as I wake up to Spud trying to lug me out of his van. I pull back and refuse to move, using all my weight to keep me seated.

“Where are we?” I slur.

“I brought you back to my house. At least that way we can make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.” His sarcastic tone doesn’t get lost in translation. He must think I’m pathetic.

“I’m not going to puke. Take me home,” I demand, though the words don’t even make sense to my own ears.

He sighs and points a finger at me. “Too late, man. Look at your T-shirt.”

Sure enough, there’re the usual diced carrots I never eat in a wonderful trail down my front. I groan at the sight. I must have puked while I was passed out. Nice.

“Sorry, man,” I mutter. Shame washes over me.

“No worries, it’s all over you, not my van. But you do owe me a lifetime supply of air freshener though. Oh, and Catlin’s going to kill you.”

I groan again but drag my arse out of his van. The cool air hits me hard, waking me up, which is not a good thing. Now I know how drunk I actually am. When you are completely wasted your mind shuts down and you have no idea how bad things actually are. When you sober slightly, things become a million times worse.

I can smell vomit now, unsurprisingly, which is making my stomach roil again. My legs can barely take my weight and my eyes won’t stop rolling in their sockets. I’m a walking disaster zone.

“I need a shower,” I utter quietly, murmuring more to myself than Spud as we walk up to his home.

“No shit.” My sister’s voice pierces through my splitting head. “And you’re damn well having one before you get anywhere near my spare bed.”

Caitlin’s lying in wait at the front door. I’m lucky she’s not armed with a frying pan. Pregnancy hormones are making her more unforgiving than usual. She looks like a
Weeble
so I find it hard to take her seriously, even when I know I should. I start sniggering, which earns me the look of death. In turn, it only makes me laugh harder.

“Spud, please get shithead into the shower. Now,” she orders.

Her tone is clipped, and not one to be argued with, so I hang my head and weave after Spud into their home and up to the bathroom. I stumble into the shower fully dressed and collapse to the floor. Spud kindly removes my boots before unkindly turning the shower on me.

“Cheers, mate, I think.” I look up at him. His sad eyes stare back at me.

“When are you going to stop doing this shit to yourself? Caitlin’s worried out of her mind about you. In all honesty, both me and Bear are worried, too. Look, I know this is how you deal, but you’re going to kill yourself if you carry on like this.” I just stare helplessly at him and he shakes his head. What the fuck does he want me to say? I know I’m a fucking mess.

“Here’s a towel. You’ve got some extra clothes in the dresser in the spare room.” He goes to walk out the bathroom but turns back. “Just try not to injure yourself, okay?”

I nod at him as he closes the door and leaves me on my own. When did I turn into such a waste of space? Even with my drink-addled brain I know I’m on a destructive path again. If I have any chance at winning over Lizzie, no matter how minuscule, then I need to clean up my act big fucking time. The last thing she would want or need is another self-destructive wanker in her life.

Every woman wants a man who adores her, a knight in shining armour to protect and ultimately support her, but tonight I’ve been nothing but a giant fuck-up.

Do I still want her?

My stupid pride wouldn’t let me listen to her. I didn’t want to have what’s left of my heart crushed again. But what if I’d listened, what then? My life is full of what-ifs when it comes to that woman. What if I’d stood my ground and not left the first time? What if I’d not walked out the door? What if I’d begged her to marry me? What fucking if?

The realisation I just thought about marrying her hits me like a sledgehammer. Is that what I really want? I ponder on the thought for all of a second. Fuck yes, that’s what I want. I want my ring on her finger. I want her to have my name. I want everyone to know she’s mine. I want her to have my children and I want her to know she’s the reason I breathe.

I better get my shit together and start fighting for what I want instead of running away. I’ve been so afraid of being torn to shreds, I’ve never fought. I’ve given up before I’ve begun. She’s got to be mine. I need her to be mine.

I peel off my drenched clothes, have a half-arsed wash, and stagger out of the shower with a new outlook on my life. Basically, stop being a fucking whingeing fucked-up bastard. Yeah, that about sums it up. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I stumble out onto the landing and into the spare room.

Caitlin’s due soon and the room’s stacked with new baby stuff, making me feel like a prize tosser for putting her through one of my meltdowns. I flop down onto the bed and lie spread out like a starfish, sinking into the marshmallow duvet that Cait has put on it. She really loves soft shit. And tonight, I’m grateful.

And as if on cue the world begins to rotate.