Destination Connelly (13 page)

But I didn’t and I never would. Nine days later I got the “it’s not going to work” phone call.

Then a few weeks after that, still mourning my loss of Nora, said girl confronted me with a pregnancy scare. And I was scared shitless, let me tell you. My whole future hung in the balance because I slept with a girl whose name I didn’t even know. I made her—Meredith Lee—pee on a stick in front of me, which showed she was, in fact, pregnant. I was reeling. Was it mine? We’d used protection, right? Fuck, how could I be sure? That night was blacker than black.

After that, I became a little reckless. I drank and drove one night, uncaring about the consequences. Slammed into a hundred-year-old oak just two blocks from my house. Totaled my car
and
my knee. Luckily no one else was involved and thanks to Asher for covering up for me, no charges were filed, but my life and my basketball career were both fucked.

As I lay at home recovering from my ACL repair, Meredith came to see me again and gave me yet more life-altering news. She’d had a miscarriage. As horrible as it sounds, I was relieved. I’d made a terrible mistake and I couldn’t imagine paying for it for the rest of my days tied to a woman I didn’t care about.

I didn’t drink again until I started college at UCLA the end of that summer and I have never been that drunk again. One blackout was one blackout too many for me, thank you the fuck much.

I’ve thought about that night often. Wondered if Nora found out somehow. But I keep coming back to the same answer. No way in hell. There were exactly four people who were privy to what happened. Asher, Alan, Meredith, and myself.

Though she was upset, Meredith was just as relieved about the miscarriage as I was. She was headed off to London that fall to start vet school at University of London’s Royal Veterinary College and a baby didn’t fit into her plans either. Asher would never breathe a word. He was my twin, my blood. He’d protect me until his dying day. And Alan was Alan. He wasn’t blood, but he was my brother by proxy.

One night, one bad choice altered my life forever. Does Nora know? Fuck. It makes me sick to think maybe all this time she has and that’s the reason she left me.

“It didn’t mean anything. I don’t even remember a single second of it,” I tell Gray softly.

“Connelly,” he sighs my name heavily, reminding me of exactly how I think our father would react. Disappointment is etched all over him.

Shit. I deserve it. I was eaten up inside trying to figure out how or
if
I would break the news to Nora. How do you tell someone something you don’t even remember yourself? But then Murphy’s Law struck. I probably got what I deserved.

I’ve been pissed at Nora all these years, but truth be told, had I been given an opportunity to confess, chances are high Nora and I would have been over either way. But if she knew, she didn’t give me that chance. And therein lies my hurt. It may be selfish and unwarranted and may not have changed the outcome, but if
that’s
the reason she left me, I at least deserved a chance to explain and apologize and grovel for forgiveness until she gave it to me. I wouldn’t have let her walk away. As it was, I shouldn’t have.

“Did he like Nora?”

“Who?” I ask, thoughts still clouded by yesterday’s mistakes.

“Alan.”

Alan. Yes. I’m pretty damn sure he was in love with her, too. “Who wouldn’t like Nora? She was a dick magnet.”

“And Alan knew about this whole cheating thing that happened?”

I nod slowly. Alan was the
only
one I could confide in. Although Asher knew about my indiscretion, he never knew about the pregnancy scare. I was too embarrassed to tell him.

“And you trusted the friend who’s been jealous of you your entire life not to say anything to a girl
he
also liked? Who
you
won over him?”

I shake my head furiously. “Alan wasn’t jealous of me, Gray,” I reply with utter confidence. “And he knew how much I loved Nora. He would never do that to me.”

Alan Johansen was my best friend outside of Asher. We met in kindergarten when another kid on the playground pushed him down and called him a retard. I’d watched him get picked on for almost two weeks before I stepped in and laid down some of the kids’ own medicine on him. He was never bothered again. I gained a lifelong friend.

Alan was loyal. A good friend. Still is to this day.

“The fuck he wasn’t, Conn. Star basketball player, class president, National Honor Society inductee, and girls trailing after you like baby ducks? Everyone saw it but you. I think more than anything he was jealous of your bond with your brothers. Your parents. Your family. You had everything he didn’t. And he wanted it.”

Alan had his issues. We all do. But a shitty home life doesn’t make a traitor. I never sensed jealousy from him. Ever. Alan spent a lot of time with my family, even vacationing with us a couple of times, but I never got the feeling he was jealous of what I had.

Was
he?

Alan stabbing me in the back would be akin to one of my brothers doing it. At the time, I just couldn’t see that happening, but talking about it out loud for the first time more than a decade later, I now hear how the whole story sounds. And if I were Gray, I’d draw the same conclusion.

I think back to Nora’s feisty comment at the cocktail party about my reputation preceding me and how that ship sailed eleven years ago. It dripped with raw hurt that couldn’t be faked. Could she possibly have meant Meredith?

Did my best friend betray me?

“Yes, I did trust him.”

“Maybe that was a mistake.”

“Maybe,” I mumble, doubt poking the smallest of holes into the indignation I’ve held fast to all these years.

Fuck
. Could the blame for losing Nora this entire time rest on
my
shoulders? Could one night of drowning my sorrows and wallowing in self-pity have caused me to end up relationship phobic and in an endless string of beds belonging to women I don’t give two shits about? Is it possible Alan betrayed our friendship, our brotherhood, and ratted me out to Nora?

I don’t believe it, but even if he did, I’m not sure it makes any difference. In fact, I know it doesn’t. It won’t erase the last few years and all the bad choices I’ve made. It won’t change that night.

I may not know how we ended up where we are today, I may not be able to erase past mistakes or change history, but this I do know: I have one hell of an uphill battle to win back the woman I know I
can
live without—because I’ve done it this long—but who I simply don’t
want to
live without anymore.

I was dead-on when I told her she belonged with me. But I am hers and I belong with her, too. Hell, I more than just belong
with
her, I belong
to
her. I always have, and it feels freeing to finally cut the macho bullshit and admit it.

Pussy whipped. Right here.

Oh well…own it, right?

Feeling lighter than I have in weeks, I tell Gray, “I’ll take that beer now.”

Laughing, he relinquishes his hold on the now probably warm brew. “Get ready for the ride of your life, little brother.”

“That sounds like a warning.”

“It is. It won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is,” I mumble, taking a deep pull from the brown glass bottle.

I decide right then and there I’m going to come clean. Whether Nora knows about the past or not is irrelevant.
I know
. I need to do right by her. Strip my soul bare and confess all my past sins so she sees I mean business.

I will pursue her to the ends of this earth. And this time, I mean to keep her.

N
ora

I
smile
at Kam’s text. Kam knows about Zel, of course, but like everyone else, she doesn’t know who her father is. I
may
have led her to believe it was a fictitious rebound. The same fictitious guy I let Connelly believe I’d left him for. And at lunch a few weeks ago, after I was positive she hadn’t fit the pieces together, I mentioned I needed to find someone to help out with Zel—getting her to and from school and to the tutor three times a week. One of the hardest parts about moving is getting everyone into a routine and, Sunny, the part-time nanny I had in Cincinnati was an absolute gem. She was in college, lived just down the street, and loved Zel like her own sister. It killed Zel to leave Sunny, and in turn, it killed me.

However, I think Landyn Monroe, the niece of one of Kam’s friends, will work out perfectly. She just recently moved to Chicago for grad school. She needed a job. I needed her. The night I had her over for an interview, Zel and Landyn instantly bonded over their mutual love of the Chicago Blackhawks and their hate of the Detroit Red Wings. Carl turned Zel into a hockey nut. She’s a die-hard fan. And while she was sad to leave her friends and Sunny behind in Cincinnati, the only home she remembers, moving to the city where her favorite team in the whole world hails from had her excitedly packing boxes the night we talked about it.

“Knock, knock.” I look up from my cell to see Brad taking up most of my open doorway with his broad frame. He looks handsome today in his black slacks and white-collared button-down. They have a pretty casual dress code at Wynn, but Brad can’t seem to swap out his dress shirts for polos. “Have a minute?”

“Yes, sure. Come on in.”

He closes the door and slides his large frame into the navy-blue padded seat across from my desk. It’s almost too small for him. When I laugh, he knows exactly why.

“Getting all settled?”

“Getting there,” I reply, looking around. I had all my files shipped and they arrived earlier in the week. I have one more box to go through before everything will have a home. What is it about that one lone box that never seems to get unpacked?

“All moved in at home?”

“Now that’s going to take a bit longer,” I say with a smirk. “The kitchen’s completely unpacked and I’ve cleared a path through my living room. That’s about it.”

“You should have taken me up on my offer. We’d have everything done by now.”

My mouth turns down slightly. “I appreciate the offer, Brad, but I’m pretty much a pro at moving. Besides, Carl came for a few days and helped with the hard stuff, like putting together shelves and beds.”

He nods, but I can tell he’s still disappointed. Looking around, he takes in my own private space. It’s an office. Nothing special. Four walls that hold a desk, a few chairs, and some filing cabinets.

“Nice view,” he nods to the wall of windows behind me.

Oh. And a kick-ass view of the all-glass Thompson Center.

I smile. “It is.” I’ve seen Brad’s office. He has a nice view of office buildings. And even though the Thompson Center houses governmental offices, you can look at it and pretend it’s being used for something more remarkable than wasted taxpayer dollars.

“I’m not surprised,” he states plainly. Throwing one elbow over the back of his chair, he rests one ankle on his opposite knee and waits. He doesn’t sound upset or judgmental, just matter-of-fact. Brad and I have spent a lot of time together at work and socially, so I can read him pretty well. Right now, he looks relaxed when he’s anything but.

My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What are you not surprised about?” I ask, leaning back in my own seat.

“That you got the best office out of the SER transplants.”

I chuckle before I realize he’s dead serious. I study Brad’s eyes and facial expressions for a few long seconds. He doesn’t look away. I’ve never been an office snob and he knows that. I took the office I was assigned, but if he’d asked, I would have given it up. Not that I’ll complain about the view, but all I’ve ever needed was a door, a desk, and a computer.

“I didn’t ask for this, Brad. I didn’t even want this sale to happen. I didn’t want to move here, uproot my life. I didn’t want to take this job, and I did everything within my power to stop it. You know that. So what’s this really about? Because I know it’s not about square footage or views of the Chicago Loop.”

He breaks our locked stare briefly before returning his eyes to mine. Then I see it. Or he’s not able to hide it any longer, one of the two.

Jealousy.

“Brad, don’t—”

“I don’t want to see you hurt again, Nora. I…” He huffs in frustration, stands and paces a few steps toward the door before turning back to face me. “I don’t want
him
to hurt you again and I’m watching this whole thing unfold in front of me like some goddamned tragic Broadway play. He’s a manwhore, Nora. I’ve heard stories about the infamous CEO of Wynn Consulting for years! He can’t commit. Hell, he doesn’t
want
to commit. He fucks anything that walks and he likes it that way. He can’t be what you need, what your daughter needs.”

“Stop. Right. Now,” I say through clenched teeth. I don’t want to hear him voice my own thoughts, my own questionable rationale, or anything else I’ve used to keep Connelly away from our daughter and from me, but I certainly don’t need to hear it at work where Connelly could drop in unannounced at a moment’s notice.

“I love you, Nora.” His voice is ripe with pain and sorrow for all he wants but knows he can’t have.

“Brad, please…” My tone beseeches him to stop before this conversation goes to places that won’t end well for either of us. I care about Brad. Not in the way he does me, but seeing him torn apart like this makes me feel as if something in me is missing and that’s why I can’t give him what he wants.

But it’s not rocket science to understand you can’t give away what you don’t have
.
And my heart hasn’t been my own since I was a junior in high school.

“I know. Christ, I know.” He throws his hands up in defeat before they drop with a slap to his thighs. “You’re not in love with me, I get it. As much as I want you to be, you’re not, because it’s
him
. It’s always been him. The attraction was tangible between you two at that party and everyone saw it, Nora. Hell, the room heated twenty fucking degrees the moment his eyes landed on you like you were the whole menu for the night. It
gutted
me to watch you with him knowing I can give you everything you need but nothing you want, and he can give you nothing you need, but everything you want. He’ll break your fucking heart. Again.”

I stare at him. His chest heaving, his face flushed, his heart breaking into pieces right before me. I open my mouth, not sure what I’m going to say when he puts his hands on my desk and leans toward me, pinning me with sad, knowing eyes. “He holds you in the past while life marches on around you without your participation. You’re still in love with him, Nora.” His eyes track to the place on my new desk where my picture frames sit and then back to me. An obvious one is missing. “And now I understand why.”

My lungs seize and my mouth is gaping in disbelief at the conclusions he’s drawn when a disembodied male voice calls, “Am I interrupting?”

Oh shit.

Oh.

Fucking.

Shit.

Neither of us answers. Awkward silence stretches on as Brad stays as is, eyes volleying back and forth between mine. After what seems like an hour, but is probably mere seconds, he slowly straightens, facing our boss. He’s still blocking my line of sight to the door. And Connelly.

“We were just finishing up,” he responds tightly.

Oh shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. How much did Connelly hear? And why did I not hear him knock? Oh my God. Connelly
cannot
find out this way. I need to tell him my way, in my own time, not have him overhear some overheated argument from a scorned male whose affections I can’t return. Anxiety sits like a ten-ton mass of twisted steel in my stomach, holding me down, making me nauseous.

What did Brad say? My mind works backward. Did he mention Zel? Fuck, I don’t remember.

“I need a moment of Nora’s time,” Connelly says calmly, taking a few steps inside where he finally comes into my peripheral. Even out of the corner of my eye, it’s plain to see the man exudes power and control. He’s always carried himself with confidence and ferocity. All of those traits are what attracted me to him in the first place, but the grown-up version of them is magnetic and thoroughly irresistible.

I don’t look at him, though. I can’t. I’m worried—no, not worried…
terrified
—terrified as hell about what I’m going to see on his face.

Anger?

Confusion?

Hatred?

It doesn’t matter, I decide. Because nothing I’m picturing could prepare me for what I do see when I force my eyes to his. Ready for my penance, I am completely taken aback instead, my breath catching hard in my throat.

They are full of undeniable love and sweet affection.

A sweat of blessed relief dots my forehead and my lungs fill with much-needed oxygen.
Thank God. Thank God.

“Of course you do,” Brad mumbles flippantly. “I’ll talk to you later, Nora.”

But I don’t respond. I barely hear the door close, our heated gazes locked hard on each other. His eyes smolder. His scruffy face is sexy as hell. His sharp inky-black tailored suit molds to him with perfection. He looks every bit the playboy he is, which should turn me off. It does the total opposite instead. Once again, I’m free-falling into the irresistible sensual pull that is Connelly Colloway.

Damn him. I am doomed. My heart will never be free of him.

Never.

“Hi,” he says softly, lulling me deeper into his sticky web of false promises.

“Hi,” I parrot dumbly.

I’ve seen Connelly exactly twice since I started in the Wynn corporate office almost two weeks ago. Once was at a one-hour staff meeting the Monday afternoon I started when he spent five minutes kicking it off before he left, leaving me to wonder why he’d hardly even glanced in my direction. The other was yesterday in the hallway as we passed each other.

That time he left me burning with desire. He was with Asher, who politely nodded at me while Connelly’s blazing stare practically disintegrated my panties. But other than just saying my name on a low, sexy rumble, he walked right on past. I had to force myself not to look back at the taut ass I’d held in my palms as he made me come undone several weeks ago with a few thrusts of his fabric-covered hips.

“May I sit?” He gestures to the seat Brad vacated.

A relieved smile tugs at my mouth. “Well, since that’s the property of Wynn and you own the company, I guess you already own that chair so you don’t need my permission to sit in it, do you?”

His deep chuckle rolls over me like gentle ocean waves. It’s light and refreshing and it feels so damn good, I find myself laughing along with him.

“So you’re saying I don’t need permission to take anything that’s company property then. Is that it?”

Remembering our heated exchange about me being his property, laughter dies on my lips as his gets louder. “You’re too easy. God, I have missed you, Nora.” My pulse skyrockets at his devastating smile. I want to say the words back, but I can’t force them out. He takes a seat in the guest chair and crosses his long, lean legs, his warm hazels never straying from mine. “Not many people dare talk to me the way you do, you know.”

“Well, I know how you much you like a challenge,” I reply, proud of myself for my witty comeback.

His amused smile drops, replaced with a desperate hunger that causes my sex to clench in anticipation. Uncrossing his legs, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, hands linked and dropped between them. “You’re right. So you also know that I don’t back down until I’ve won.”

Oh.

Wow.

Our eyes clash in a battle of wills and unspoken words, but I hear every one of his clear as day. I always have.

I want you.

I love you.

And I’ll stop at nothing until I win you.

I’ll admit it; I lost the game of chicken and am the first to break away, stupidly straightening the pile of resumes on my desk, giving myself a few seconds to gather my frayed wits.

By the time I’ve summoned the courage to look at him again he’s already assumed the same relaxed position as before, his desire tempered to a slow simmer.

I wish I could say the same.

I wait for him to mention Brad and the conversation he walked in on. I know he heard something, I just don’t know how much. Instead, he dives right into business. I internally sigh at the small reprieve I’ve been given.

Heated eyes leave mine and scan my small space. “Nice picture.” He nods to the framed abstract Zel drew. It looks professional and more than one person has said I could probably sell it. But she made it for me this year on the anniversary of my mom’s death, using my mother’s favorite colors of blue and yellow. There’s no amount of money that would make me part with it.

“Thanks,” is all I can manage.

“We have a dinner meeting set for tomorrow evening with Alred Kinnick, Chairman of the Board of Kinnick Investments. I’m sorry for the last minute notice, but he had a late cancellation and could fit us in. We need to take the opportunity because it may be a while before he can meet again and he’s anxious to get this CEO recruitment started.”

The only word I heard in that entire sentence was…“We?”

“Yes.
We
.” He tamps down a smirk, but barely. “I realize we didn’t discuss the particulars and I don’t often get so involved in executive recruitments, but Alred is an old family friend and he can be rather…” He pauses, contemplating his choice of words. “…
challenging
to deal with, so the first meeting will be together. If he’s comfortable with you, then you can take subsequent meetings without me unless he wants me more heavily involved.”