Blackness Within (45 page)

“A few years. Every time I’ve been back, it’s been for a series so I didn’t get out much. I’ve missed this place.”

“Glad to be home then?”

“Happier now,” he mumbles before pulling me to his side, his arm snugly around my waist.

I snicker a little and then ask, “If you’re so happy to see me now, why didn’t you seek me out over the last decade?”

When Brent doesn’t respond, I lean my head to the side to find his brow furrowed.

“I fucked up with you in high school. Your brother beat my ass for it and he should have. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me. You shouldn’t want anything to do with me after that. I’m an even bigger dick because I never apologized or tried to make shit right after that. I was gonna tell you this at dinner.”

He comes to a halt and steps in front of me. I have to look up to meet his towering gaze.

“I should’ve fought for you that night. I should have beat Morgan’s ass and told Amy to go fuck herself. I was a coward. Afraid to mess up my ride with a fight. Baseball meant more to me than you did. I know that’s a shitty thing to say, but it’s the truth. I know people are more important than a sport now. I didn’t back then.”

“It’s okay, Brent. I know all about making sacrifices to do what’s right for your future,” I assure him.

“I never should’ve sacrificed you feeling safe on a date with me. It’s one of my biggest regrets in life,” he whispers.

“I forgive you.”

I lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek before pulling back to see wonder in his eyes.

“You’re an amazing woman, Natasha.” He pauses for a while staring into my eyes, the green in his turning hotter. “Let’s go eat.”

With that, the strange moment is over and we move down the sidewalk, our fingers interlaced and smiles on our faces.

As I’m walking with Brent, I think about Sully. I wish I were here with him, feeling the sparks that he causes. Brent gives me butterflies, but I think he’d give an eighty-year-old woman butterflies. He has that kind of unstoppable charisma.

Sully makes me feel off balance, shaky with emotion and desire. Brent just makes me nervous. I can manage nerves. I can’t manage the tornado that Sully causes. It’s unpredictable and consuming. I need a bit of normal in my life.

Going on a date with a superstar baseball player isn’t normal, but it’s the closest I’ll get tonight.

I’ll take it and try not to fantasize about how much I love chocolate.

O’Sullivan

My violent, fitful rage hasn’t been expelled. I raced out of Blake and Natasha’s apartment only to be met with an insane amount of traffic as the Royals game wound down. I realize my thinking wasn’t clear. How did I think I would find her amongst 27,000 people? I never claimed to be sane.

I turned around and went home once I understood I wasn’t going to find Natasha. When I pulled in my driveway, for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to see my family. I wanted to be alone. I needed a drink.

I now find myself in a hole in the wall staring at a warm tasteless beer. I haven’t uttered a word other than to order. My gaze hasn’t moved much beyond a few scans around the dingy room.

There’s a group of bikers, a group of war vets and a group of women. Everyone is keeping to their own group and I’m falling in line with that.

I’m torturing myself.

My one tortured thought, Natasha doesn’t want me.

Her body wants mine. Fuck, most women do. I know, I’m a cocky shit. Well, the truth is what it is.

But now I’m considering that’s the only thing drawing her to me. It’s possible I’m a friend and nothing more to her than a slice of eye candy. I’ve spent my life as eye candy and a walking dildo for most women. I haven’t had a hard time staying single. Women don’t want commitment from a guy like me. They want mind-blowing orgasms for a night, a weekend, maybe even a week and that’s it.

I’ve had a few clingers. A handful of women I would call girlfriends, though I use that term loosely. Even when I was with a woman, my eye wandered and so did my dick. I wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t even distracted enough to give a shit.

I’m an asshole.

I own that.

Why would Natasha take a risk on me?

She was with Vojtech for months, used and abused. I don’t have many details on what she went through. She won’t talk to anyone about it other than to her therapist. She’s given me a little though.

The fucker never hit her. He didn’t rape her. He didn’t force her to watch other women being raped. He didn’t allow another man to come near her. From the sounds of it, he protected her. That makes it worse.

I know he hurt her deeply. It wasn’t physical, but he wrecked her mind. She trembles now. She avoids eye contact. She cowers when anyone gets loud. She rarely leaves the apartment alone. The power she worked so diligently to gain is a distant memory.

It’s coming back. She’s coming back, but the scars are there. Scars I allowed to be ripped and torn through her soul. I did that.

I don’t deserve her.

I deserve the woman eye fucking me from across the room. The woman looking for an orgasm in a seedy bar’s bathroom. The woman that sees I’m only worthy of that tiny pleasure in life.

And I want to give it to her. I want to give her a chin lift and a seductive smile before sliding off this stool, sauntering to the bathroom. I want to rip her trashy thong off and bury my dick in her, slamming her body against the wall. I want to watch her eyes roll back in her head as I hammer away, forgetting tornadic greys. I want to palm her ass and forget about the softest cheeks my hands have ever felt. I want to hear her moans and mewls and forget about raspy wanting groans. I just want to forget.

I slap a twenty on the bar, slide off my stool and offer the woman a sly, sexy smile. Then I saunter away.

Out the front door of the bar, I take a deep breath.

I deserve a chance. I deserve a chance at not wanting to forget. I deserve a chance to savor all the things torturing me. I deserve a chance to make a future beyond this pathetic life I’m living. I fucking deserve it.

“I need to you stay at my place tonight,” I grunt at Blake when he answers the door.

“What’s that?” he asks, pulling the door open to let me pass.

“I don’t know how tonight’s gonna go, but I need to talk to your sister and you shouldn’t be here for it. Stay at my place. If shit goes south, I’ll let you know and you can come back.”

“I’m not really a fan of that plan, O’Sullivan. You think you might hurt my sister or fuck up with her, I’m not just gonna pass her off to you for that.”

“I won’t hurt her. I promise you, I won’t fuckin’ hurt her. But it’s time to get shit straight with us. No brother should be around for that kinda talk. I know. I have sisters,” I say with a knowing glance before leaning against their breakfast bar.

He studies me for a long time, glaring and nostrils flaring. I’m asking him to trust me with his broken sister. It’s a big ask. I wouldn’t give it to a guy like me. I wouldn’t give it to anyone with Kid. But when she found Kellerman, I didn’t get to make those decisions anymore. I’m hoping that’s the conclusion Blake’s coming to about me right now.

“You hurt her…fuck with her, I’m beatin’ your fuckin’ ass. I don’t give a shit if you’re a badass motherfucker or not. I’ll end you, O’Sullivan. Tosh has had enough. Do you understand me right now? She’s had e-fuckin’-nough,” he growls, leaning into my face.

The laid-back man is now a hulking protector and I love the dude a little more.

“I get you. I won’t hurt her,” I assure him with my words and a serious gaze that communicates I’m in this. All the way.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you, man. I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“I know.”

He lingers in my face for a while, warring with what to do. Finally, he steps back and extends his fist for a bump. I relax and bump it. One obstacle down.

Blake doesn’t say anything as he packs up a bag in his room. When he comes out, I hand him my keys.

“If she sees my car, she won’t come in,” I explain.

“I’m trustin’ you with the only thing that matters in my life. I did that once before and I lost her. I’m either a fuckin’ idiot or brain damaged from all the smack. Don’t make me regret this, O’Sullivan,” he whispers, pulling the keys from my hand.

He doesn’t want me to hurt him either. We’ve become friends and if I betray Natasha, I’ll be betraying him too. I don’t want to hurt them. I won’t hurt them.

“I’m not gonna fuck up this time, Blake. I’m not,” I assert powerfully.

He nods slightly and lets out a huge breath.

“I’m takin’ Zeus with me. That way you don’t get your balls eaten off before I can rip ’em off.”

I snort.

“If that motherfucker, Brent McAllister, shows up here, I expect you to level his ass.”

“Will do.”

And I fucking will.

His pale grey eyes hold mine until he’s satisfied I’ve got this then he turns on his heel and walks out the door. Throwing me a two-finger wave as he goes.

I settle myself in their apartment and wait. I wait for her to come through her front door and into my sneak attack. It’s not the nicest way to do this, but I don’t have a choice. It has to be this way.

I turn off all the lights, toe off my flip-flops and lay back on the couch. I breath slowly and think about what I’m going to do. How I’m going to approach this. The longer I have to wait the hazier my plan gets. I’m getting pissed.

She’s been gone all day. The game ended hours and hours ago. She’s with him. I refuse to think something bad has happened to her. She has to be with McAllister. On a fucking date with McAllister.

I can’t be mad when she gets here. I need to be calm. I need to be able to say the right words. I need a clear head.

I breathe deeply and force my tense muscles to relax, pushing the rage from my cells. The more relaxed I get, I feel sleep claiming my emotionally exhausted body. I close my eyes to rest them for a while. Just a little while.

Keys rattling pull me from a dreamless sleep. I sit up and prepare myself for a fight. If Brent McAllister walks through that door, I’m going to attack him.

The door swings open and the soft light of the corridor illuminates platinum hair and soft curves. No McAllister.

Natasha shuts the door with a click. I can’t really see her now that she’s bathed in the blackness of the room, but I imagine she’s taking off her shoes. I can see her moving toward me and just before she turns toward her room, I let her know she’s not alone.

“Did you have a good time?” I question gruffly and flip the lamp on beside me.

Natasha squeals and jumps, dropping her purse on the floor.

“Goddammit, Sully! You scared the fuckin’ shit outta me!” she seethes through a whisper.

She glares at me for another moment before dropping to her knees to collect the contents of her purse.

“What’re you doing here? Your car wasn’t outside,” she mumbles without looking up at me.

“Blake’s at my place. He has my car,” I explain plainly.

Her stormy grey eyes meet mine and she drops her purse again.

“Shit,” she says to herself.

She talks to herself a lot. I think it’s one of the cutest things about her. It’s even cuter because she doesn’t realize she does it.