Darkness Before Dawn (4 page)

I sit up on the counter and begin to draw circles over the green bruises on my calf. That's all I am these days, cuts and bruises—inside and out. I snap back to reality and hop off the counter, picking up my hair in a messy ponytail as I open the door, hoping to walk into an empty room, but Dean is still there flipping through my magazine.

"You gonna sit here and read old gossip all day or you gonna try to help me out?"

He raises an eyebrow. "This is new gossip and I
am
trying to help you out."

As he walks over to me, I notice our difference in height. For some reason I've never noticed the way he towers over me. Probably because I'm always looking at the ground, unless I'm sitting on it. He's definitely not as tall as Cole, nothing about his physical appearance is like Cole's. Cole is tall and muscular, Dean is tall and lean. Cole has more of a playboy face, whereas Dean is more of a rugged pretty boy. The only thing they have in common is that swagger, or spark that some guys have. The one that draws you to them, even though you know in the back of your mind that you will get burned once you get too close. When he leans close to me, I take in his scent of nicotine and cinnamon before he hands me the magazine, making me flinch a little.

He holds my stare as we both grip either side of the magazine. "Chill out, I'm not gonna hurt you, chick."

"You are hurting me," I whisper as I sit down on the bed and look down at the magazine. It looks blurry through my eyes, so I can't make out who's on the cover of this one. He cups his hand under my chin and lifts my face to look at him, but I turn out of his hold. "Don't touch me, please."

He exhales heavily. "I'm sorry about your sucky situation, and I'm sorry you're the one that has to deal with the mess others have made."

"I just wish I knew why this was happening to me," I say quietly as I stare at my chipped red nail polish.

"I dunno the whole story, but from what I've heard your dad screwed Benny over. Alex's beef with your dad is personal though," he says quietly.

I take a deep shaky breath. "How did my 'dad' screw them over?" I ask, emphasizing the word that's so unfamiliar to me, just like the man himself.

"Well, from what I've heard-"

"Dean! I've been calling you, where's your goddamn phone?" Alex shouts as he stomps over to my room. I hide the magazines under my pillow and bring my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. Dean gives me a grateful look before picking up the tray and standing.

"I came down to bring her food," he replies to Alex, who is now standing in the threshold looking at me. I try my best not to squirm or look away from his stare.

"Good. You can go," Alex says in a gruff voice. I close my eyes, grab a handful of the sheets beside me, and pray Dean stays a little while longer.

"I'll see you, chick," Dean says, looking at me with regret in his eyes. I nod in response and watch him walk out, leaving me alone with Alex.

Alex looks at me for a long time, his eyes drifting all over my face until they settle on my eyes.

I take a fourth gulp of whiskey and welcome the burn in the back of my throat, praying that numbness engulfs my pain soon. The camera flashes that bolt through the windows remind me that four drinks isn't going to be enough to hold me off tonight. I can't believe I agreed to come to this shit; the last thing I wanted to do was fly out of Chicago, but attending a social event takes the freaking cake. People would've understood if I would've skipped out on the event, but Greg was acting like a little bitch, begging me to come with him because Becky couldn't make it. After two years of trying and failing, she got some in-vitro treatment done and finally got pregnant. Unfortunately, she's been having a rough first trimester, and Blake's kidnapping hasn't helped her stress level.

I put down the glass and run my hands over my buzz cut and rough beard, before picking it back up and drinking what's left. To say that I'm going fucking crazy without her would be the understatement of the century. I went back to work two weeks after she disappeared thinking that I could use the distraction, but I couldn't. I had to take a leave of absence and I don't know if I ever want to go back. I don't know if I can.

"Yo, what's up?" Greg asks, stirring me out of my angry daze. He's holding a beer bottle, pointing at my hand with his pinky.

I look down and growl when I realize that I shattered the glass in my hand. I clean up, tossing the broken glass into the tiny ass garbage can next to me, before getting napkins and wiping the blood from my hands.

"Shit. Does it hurt?" Greg asks as he examines my hand.

I shrug. "Not enough." He exhales and shakes his head. "You ready?" I ask before he says anything else.

He nods once and takes a deep breath, stretching his neck the way he does before he goes on the field. I know he's mentally preparing himself to deal with my wrath in public. I heard him on the phone with Becky last night and from what I gathered, she was coaching him on how to handle me. As if I'm some kind of wild animal or something.

As soon as we step out of the limo, the camera lights start flashing. Greg turns to me. "You know you don't have to talk about anything, right? If they ask you questions, just ignore them, or let me handle it."

I shake my head. "Let them ask. Maybe it'll help." The authorities are calling Blake's kidnapping a disappearance, as in she left without leaving a trace. They're saying there were no eyewitnesses around that saw her being taken. They even had the audacity to ask me if maybe she was involved with somebody else and doesn't want to be found. At least the news reporters are still talking about it and speculating that it was a kidnapping, which I'm getting tired of confirming. It doesn't help that Bruce has no recollection of anything that happened that day, so at this point, I'll take any help I can get. Maybe keeping my face in the news is the right step.

We walk down the red carpet, and Greg and I stop to pose for a couple of photos. Reporters are yelling from all directions, asking me questions. "Mr. Murphy, how are you holding up? Have you learned any information about Miss. Brennan's disappearance?"

I take a deep breath and turn to the reporter. "We're still searching. I'm not losing hope. I know I'll get her back. If anybody sees or hears anything, please contact the police immediately!"

Everything is going fine, until some idiot yells, "Have they found her body?" and I feel the blood drain from my face. I close my eyes and clench my jaw as Greg puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I'm silently hoping my anger will pass, but the fucker repeats the question, louder this time.

"Who the fuck asked that question?" I growl.

The flashes continue. You'd think they would stop because they know I'm pissed. Instead these dumb mother fuckers are eating this up. I know this, and I don't want to give them a fucking show, but damn if I can stop myself. I feel Greg place his other hand on my shoulder and start ushering me out. I hear his voice, but I don't know what the fuck he's telling me. When we reach the next batch of photographers I bump into a woman in a gold dress. I'm about to apologize and walk away, but she turns around and my eyes get caught in Erin's pale blue eyes. She smiles sympathetically and before I know it, she pulls me into a hug.

"I'm so, so sorry, Cole. So sorry. I tried calling you, but it always goes straight to voicemail. How are you doing?" she asks sweetly.

Erin's a class act and by far the sweetest girl I've dated. I ran into her after we broke up. She'd heard I started dating Blake, and instead of being angry, she congratulated me and smiled. She said she always had a feeling we were meant to be together.

"Thanks, Erin. Where's Tom?" I ask as I lean out of her embrace. She's been dating Tom Buck, the quarterback for Chicago, for a while now.

She smiles brightly. "He's around. He's nominated, so he went to do a couple of interviews with his agent. He should be back soon. I'm handing out the awards, I'm sure you noticed," she replies gesturing her dress.

I look down at her golden dress and nod, realizing she'll be one of those girls that stands on stage all night. For a fleeting second I picture that dress on Blake and think about how good it would look on her. Blake.
Thinking of her brings back the tightness in my chest and the ball in my throat. I clear it, hoping to rid myself of emotion for now.

"That's great, Erin. I'll catch you later, Greg's waiting for me."

"Sure. Cole?" she says before I turn away. "She'll come back to you. I know she will."

I nod, because if I say anything right now, I would sob it out. I walk over to Greg, who's talking to his teammate, Trevor, the fucking asshole that was all over Blake when she went to New York last year. Trevor's not really an asshole, though, and I can see the sympathy written all over his face.

"Sup, Cole?" Trevor says, extending his hand. I take it and nod once in reply.

"I'm sure you're sick of hearing this shit, but I'm sorry about Blake, bro. If you need anything, I'm there," Trevor says.

"Thanks, man," I reply.

I greet the petite woman wearing a black dress standing next to him and she smiles at me sympathetically before putting her hand in Trevor's. I rub my forehead in frustration. Does everybody here have a fucking date? I guess I need to get over that, at least, but every time I see couples being affectionate it gets under my skin. Blake and I aren't even the type to hold hands. Now I wish I had held her fucking hand every chance I got. I wish I could go back to that fucking day and not have taken that damn flight to New York.

The rest of the evening went well enough. I got more "I'm sorrys" and shit, but other than that, I was able to present the award, and get the fuck out of there with no issues. Greg left when I did and opted to skip out on the after parties; I'm not sure if he wanted to spend time with me, or not piss Becky off.

I lay in the queen size bed of the hotel room staring at the ceiling, listening to Greg snore his ass off. How the fuck does Becky sleep with this every night? Fuuuck, this shit is annoying. I glance over at the time, three fucking thirty.
Fuck me. Of course it is.
This time, the sobs win. I hear the bed creaking from my shaking body. This shit happens to me every night. I want to say that this is when I miss her the most, but the truth is, I always miss her. Even in my sleep, I miss her warmth beside me. Why the fuck did they have to take her from me? Why? Why her?

"Damn, man," Greg rasps. "I'm so sorry, dude." I hear him sit up, but he leaves the lights off. Thank God. If he turned them on and exposed me, I'd fucking kill him. I feel vulnerable enough already. I hear him sniffling, and I know he's crying too. I know he misses her too. He loves Blake. Everyone does. I can't get her image out of my head. Her long, wavy dirty-blond hair, her big, stormy gray eyes, her plump lips, her pink cheeks, her perfect tits, her perfect ass, her perfect fucking legs. My princess. She flips the fuck out whenever I call her that. Even as kids, I thought of her as my princess. Now I only call her that when she's being a bitch, which is often. Damn, I miss her smart mouth, her fuck off attitude, our banter, our sex, our laughs. I miss everything about my life with her.

"You talk to Mark lately?" Greg asks hoarsely.

"Yeah, every fucking day. Fucker won't tell me shit. I'm gonna have to kick it out of him if he keeps playing games with me. Godfather or not, I don't give a fuck. I already warned him. He keeps saying he's handling it, but I don't see shit being handled. He won't tell me shit. Fucking Bruce didn't see anyone coming for her, which says a lot, since, well, you know Bruce. He's a fucking ex-Marine for Christ sake. What the fuck, man. What the fuck?" I sob.

"I know, dude. I fucking know. Becky can't fucking think, she's not eating right and that shit's unhealthy for the baby. She keeps talking crazy, saying she doesn't wanna be pregnant if Blake's not here. Doesn't wanna fucking have a kid if Blake's not gonna be around for it. I miss Cowboy to death, yo, but fuck, that's my fucking kid she's talking 'bout. I don't think she'd do anything stupid, but I'm fucking scared to leave her crazy ass for too long. With Mags gone, and now Blake missing, I'm about to fucking take Aubry's ass to live with us for a while."

I let out a shaky laugh thinking about that. "I doubt he'd go. Aubry loves Becks, I'm sure he wants to be there for her, but he's out of his mind without Cowboy." I hear Greg snicker. "Fuck you. I know I'm out of my damn mind without her, but he's hurting too, they fucking lived together their whole lives. They were attached at the hip. I swear if I didn't know for a fact that Aubry is scared shitless of me, I would have a problem with that."