Breaking Even (28 page)

“Ex-friend that he only used for casual sex,” I say, smiling tightly as she lets go an accidental laugh.

“You’re more than that to him and you know it,” Ethan says, frowning at me like I’m the one that ended things.

He’s as damn confusing as Rye. Maybe it’s the entire male populace that I can’t understand.

“No. I’m not.” I turn my attention back to her as she starts breaking out her packs of sealed sutures and needles. Or whatever they’re called.

But Rye starts moving his hand when she goes to touch him.

“Did you pack anesthesia in there?” Ethan asks her.

Wren hasn’t said a word since the cold greeting the strawberry blonde delivered. I have no idea who she is, but they apparently aren’t on great terms.

“That would be illegal. It’s not really my place to stitch him up either, but I suppose some things can’t be helped. Can you keep him still?” she asks, looking up at me. “I can deaden the place around the wound to keep it from hurting so much, but I need him to be still while I do that and stitch him up.”

I groan as Rye continues to be combative, and I hold his head with one hand as I look into his eyes. “Can you be still, please? We have to fix your hand.”

“Kiss me and I will,” he slurs.

He’s got to be kidding.

“We’re doing this to help you. Just be still.”

He moves his hand again, and Wren and Ethan both curse.

“Just kiss him and hold him still,” Wren growls.

Both the nurse and I turn to glare at him, and he quickly walks away, cowering as though we just pointed guns on him. She turns back to me while rolling her eyes. “Care to help?” she asks, her words meant for Ethan.

“He’ll hit a guy. Especially one that gets too close to her right now. Sorry. Not taking that chance.”

She looks at him at the same time I do, and he runs away, too

“Worthless men,” she grumbles. I wish I could call Maggie to come help, but he won’t let anyone touch him right now but me apparently. My confusing hell only seems to grow hotter.

“You’ll be still if I kiss you?” I ask him, and he immediately goes still.

“Yes,” he whispers, and that’s when I see a tear fall from his eye, breaking my heart in ways I didn’t think were possible.

I really wish I knew what was going on, but I don’t. And I never will. But he has to get his hand stitched up, and I never got to give him a goodbye kiss.

Looks like this is as close to closure as I’ll get.

My lips go to his, and I feel the nurse tug my hand away as she goes to work. Rye’s tongue slips into my mouth with familiar, expert ease, and his good hand goes to my hair as he pulls me closer, devouring me in a way that only destroys me more.

I always confused his passion for love. And now I remember why it was so hard to be strong around him.

My hands tangle in the soft strands of his short hair as I say a thousand words with this one kiss. Everything I’ve felt, everything I’ve wanted him to know, and every ounce of pain I’ve had all go into this kiss, and he moans while tugging at my small, thin shorts.

“Just a kiss,” I murmur against his lips, ignoring the tang of my salty tears as they start to invade.

He nods and moves his hand back up to my hair, and he kisses me harder, as though he’s saying all the same things I am. And it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that it feels as though the pain is manifesting into a physical mass inside my chest, pressing against me with a heavy force, and making it hard to breathe.

All I want to do is run out of here and cry. And I will. The second I leave this room, it’s going to be a painful, breath-stealing, heart-achingly, agonizing cry that rivals a wolf’s mournful howl at the moon. And then I’m never going to speak to him again.

This is it. This is our goodbye. He’s drunk as hell, his hand is bleeding, and he has no idea what he’s doing, but right now he’s giving me the closure I need, even though it only makes it hurt worse.

“Brin,” he murmurs against my lips. “Stay tonight.” It’s a whispered plea that sends an ache too deep inside me and almost decimates my resolve, because he’s so sincere right now. But in the morning, everything would be terrible—worse than it already is.

My tears don’t wait until I’m out of the room to start dripping harder; they burn down my cheeks with a feverishly rapid succession. I move my lips back to his, hoping it’s enough to keep him quiet. I love him and hate him with every breath we exchange, but I hate myself the most.

I did this to myself. I was fine before him, but I’m ruined now.

“I love you,” I whisper just as the nurse finishes up.

“I know,” he groans, turning his head away. “But you can’t. Love is temporary, and it’s a bitter bitch when it leaves. I can’t be responsible for your happiness like he was hers. Like I was. I can’t handle more guilt, and I’ll fuck up again.”

I have no idea what his drunken words mean, but I stand up as he tries to move. I don’t bother learning the nurse’s name, or thanking her for all her help. I can’t. I can’t say another word. Rye is okay now, and I have to go before I fall apart in front of everyone.

I sprint across the yard as he calls my name, yelling for me. And I hear the first punch someone takes. I hope it’s Ethan. I look back in time to see it is Ethan, and I almost smile, but that smile fades with all the weight of my misery.

He’s drunk. He’ll break my heart in the morning because he’s drunk enough to love me tonight. But when he’s sober...

I keep running down the street with no idea where I’m going, but Maggie pulls up beside me in her car, and I hop in the back seat.

“Saw the drama. Feel like pancakes?”

I just laugh and sniffle at the same time, and she drives away. She and Carmen are still in robes, and I’m not even wearing a bra.

“Don’t worry,” Carmen says, smiling softly. “It’ll get better.”

I doubt it. But I don’t bother arguing. There’s nothing left to say.

Chapter 16

RYE

“Why the fuck do I have stitches?” I growl, glaring at my throbbing, swollen, and bruised hand. The crisscrossed stitches seem to be professionally done, but I’m still wondering if Dr. Frankenstein broke into my house last night and played mad scientist on my hand.

Everything is too fuzzy, and all the memories are hidden under a thick veil of fog.

“Because you’re a clumsy bastard,” Ethan groans, raising up from the sofa that’s in my room.

His black eye gives me pause. “Why is your eye black?”

He laughs as he stands up, stretching as he shakes his head.

“Because you’re a clumsy bastard with a mean right hook.”

I slowly get out of bed, cursing my aching right hand when the internal throbbing grows to be more vicious. And damn, it itches. But the itch feels like it’s under three layers of very tender flesh.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asks as I follow him out, ignoring all the damage in my room.

“Nothing after the boxes I shouldn’t have ever opened,” I say while blinking and trying to stop seeing things in a fog.

“Figures. Your Porsche is going to need more work. You beat the hell out of it last night.”

Ah, hell. My poor car.

“And my hand?”

“You cut it on the window after you broke it. Wren’s child’s mom came by to fix your hand. Yeah. That shocked the hell out of me. No one thought to tell me he had a kid?”

He turns to glare at me, and I shrug.

“Not my secret to tell.” He rolls his eyes while leading the way to the kitchen, and I drop to a stool as he starts making coffee.

“Why’d I punch you?” I ask, still trying to put all the blurry images together.

“Because I stopped you from chasing Brin out of the house.”

He turns to face me as all the color drains from my face. “Why the hell was Brin over here? And why was I chasing her?”

He breaks down all the details, and I get sicker with everything he says. She kissed me to keep me still. She came because I was hurt. And she left here in tears because I’m the world’s biggest asshole.

I made her cry. Her ex-husband never made her cry, but
I
did.

“You shouldn’t have involved her,” I snap.

“We didn’t. She came because she cared. She kissed you because you refused to be still any other way, and she stayed on top of you because you wouldn’t let her go. Pretty sure any other girl would have prayed you bled to death.”

She should have let me bleed and stayed away.

“I need to go apologize to her.”

He props up as I try to stand straight, but things are still a little warped, and it feels like I’m suffering the after effects of a bad carnival ride.

“For what? For breaking her heart or for being a drunken ass?”

I don’t even want to think about the shit I said to her the other day. It was too harsh, too stupid, and too damn cruel. She didn’t deserve anything that came out of my mouth.

“The list is too long to detail. I’ll be back,” I mumble, stumbling toward the door.

“Tell her I said thanks. We couldn’t have handled you without her help last night.”

That just turns the knife in my heart a little more. I can’t believe she came over here after what I did.

Not bothering to put on a shirt or even shower, I head across the street. I’m barefoot and still wearing my blood-splattered jeans from last night, but she’s waited long enough for an apology. Before I even reach the door, Maggie is swinging it open, and she looks pissed—nuclear warning pissed.

“What?” she barks.

She’s definitely not on my side anymore. I don’t blame her. I’m not on my side either.

“I just want to apologize for... well, everything. Can I please come in and talk to her?”

She blocks the doorway with her small body when I try to come in, so I take a step back.

“She’s not here. She had to go to work.”

I glance over my shoulder, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me. Her Camry is still parked.

“Her car is here,” I say, turning back around just as the door slams in my face.

That went worse than I thought, and I didn’t even get to talk to Brin. I knock, and then curse when I use my injured hand. The throbbing intensifies, punishing me for forgetting about it. Swapping to my left hand, I knock again.

“Go away, Rye. She’s not here. She took a cab because she didn’t have any gas in her car and she was running late,” Maggie says through the door.

No gas in her car? I can at least take care of that.

Shit. When did my life get so messed up?

***

BRIN

“Is he gone?” I whisper from my doorway, wiping away the streaks of fallen tears.

Maggie stares out the window for a moment, and then she sighs. “Finally. Yeah. He’s walking across the street.” She turns to me with the most apologetic eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Are you okay?” She cringes and quickly adds, “Don’t answer that. It was a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay.”

I sigh while coming to drop down to the sofa.

“At least the museum had to stay closed for a few extra days. The renovations hit a snag, and the building can’t be reopened until next week now.”

She hands me a fresh box of tissues, and I smile up at her very gratefully. “Thank God I have you,” I murmur, and she smiles as she comes to sit down beside me and wraps me up in the hug I need.

“You’ve been with me through some of the worst breakups ever. I can be here for you the one time you actually need a shoulder to cry on.”

She looks toward the window, and then her eyebrows scrunch. “Is he pouring gas into your car?” she asks, and I look out to see the same thing.

Shit. I have a full tank.

He figures that out when the gas starts pouring out of the jug and onto the ground instead of going into the car, and his eyes move to the house again. Through the thin curtains, we can see him, but I don’t think he can see us.

He puts the jug down, and starts walking this way, and I run to my room like the coward I am. “Don’t open the door this time,” I whisper, and Maggie walks over to the window just as the banging on the door starts.

“What now?” she asks, playing dumb.

“Her tank is full. Let me talk to her. I know she’s in there. I just saw her running out of the living room.”

Crap. So much for him not seeing through the useless curtains. We need blinds.

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“I have a key,” he warns, and my stomach knots up.

Maggie flips the newly-installed chain lock into position, and I breathe out in relief.

“Go home. She doesn’t want to talk to you. I think you’ve said enough. Don’t you?”

I sink to the floor, still trying to catch my breath, when suddenly there’s a loud beating on my window. I jump and scream when I see Rye’s brown eyes staring expectantly.

Definitely buying blinds for every damn room in the house.

“Please go away,” I groan, standing as I wipe my eyes.

“I just want to apologize.”

“Fine. You’ve done so. Now go away,” I say, keeping my face out of view.

“You’re crying. Let me in so I can talk to you. Please.”

Why is he doing this?

“Do you hear yourself?” Maggie barks, coming into my room on her way to my window. “This is what is breaking her. You and your damn contradictory, befuddling ways. Just go the hell home and leave her alone. You’re just confusing her more with everything you do. Fuck! I don’t even understand you, so I can’t imagine how she feels.”

I look over just as he backs away from the window, looking so pitifully defeated. It almost feels like a hand reaches in and painfully squeezes my heart, because I hate seeing his eyes so sad.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says softly, looking away from me.

“So you said. Now go,” she snaps.

This time he listens, and he walks away with his head down. I exhale a long breath before climbing up and getting into bed and pulling the covers over my head.

“I’m staying under the covers no matter what you say this time,” I grumble, but one corner folds down, and suddenly Maggie is under the covers with me.

Her eyes hold unshed tears for my pain, and I remember why I’ve loved her like a sister for all these years.