Building Faith (Long Beach Series Book 2) (21 page)

I slam into my own apartment, and the second the door shuts, I can hear Jeremy having sex in his room. The chick he's with is moaning loudly, and I can hear the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly. A loud growl escapes me as I stalk straight to the bathroom and slam the door shut.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Needing to drown out the sounds of sex, I yank the shower curtain back and turn on the shower. The last thing I need is to hear Jeremy pounding ass after I'd just left Faith sprawled on the floor in her apartment.

“Motherfucking piece of shit!” I hiss at myself as I grab at my hair and pull at the ends with frustration. I'm such a dickhead. I just left her there. I fucking left her like that. I'd bolted like a pansy ass pussy without apologizing or giving her any kind of explanation for the shit I just pulled. I
pushed
her. My chest tightens as I let out another pained growl. It wasn't even a little push. I pushed her so damned hard that she ended up on her fucking back.

I've never,
ever
been physically aggressive towards a woman. Not even at that camp. I spin around and slam my fist into the wall. Pain explodes along my knuckles and it seems to calm me down, snapping me out of my momentary rage.

“Fuck, that hurt,” I mutter as I look down at my hand. My knuckles are red, but they aren't cut up or bleeding. For a long minute I stare at my hand until I turn and shove the toilet seat down. I drop down onto it and rest my elbows on my knees, my head dropping into my hands.

How could this have happened? I
wanted
her to touch me. The things she was doing to my chest with her lips... I was about ready to come right then and there in my pants. Having Faith take over like that had been hotter than anything I've ever experienced, and I've done a lot of shit. But it all comes down to who you do it with. None of the women before her mattered.

I'd known as she kissed down my stomach that she was going to blow me tonight. I was so turned on and ready for it. The second she reached out with the intention to touch and release my dick from my underwear, I'd lost it. I pushed her away before I even realized what the hell I was doing. I wanted Faith to touch me. I was aching for it, so why flip out?

Feeling drained and downright weary, I rub my hands over my face as I exhale with frustration. I fucked up badly tonight. I should be over at Faith's right now, begging for forgiveness. She didn't deserve my reaction, and the fact that her ex physically pushed her around makes me feel about an inch tall.

I can't, though.

If I go over there, there's a chance she'll slam the door in my face, and I'm not ready to face the reality of how empty my life would be without her. There's also the fact that if she did allow me inside to explain myself, I'd have to share with her the parts of me that I've never shared with anyone. To open myself up like that, to let her see my flaws and my weakness...

Not much scares the shit out of me, but letting Faith see everything that I am makes me want to turn around and run like hell.

When I realize the room is overly humid, I let my hands fall as I lift my head to look around. Steam has filled the room from the shower, and sweat has popped out across my forehead and chest. I glance down, realizing for the first time that I'd left my shirt at Faith's. I shake my head and stand up to turn off the shower.

I hear nothing but silence in the apartment, letting me know Jeremy's taking a break before another round or he's kicked her out already. He never lets them stay the night.

I leave the bathroom and enter my own room, shutting the door quietly. My gaze rests on the box spring and mattress that are on the floor. I'd gotten rid of my bed for Faith. I'm even willing to sacrifice my friendship with Caleb for her.

I need to man up and quit being a pussy. I need to figure my shit out and work up the nerve to confront her about what went down tonight. Once I know what the fuck I want to say, I'm going to fight to keep her in my life.

I'm not letting her go.

The next day, I feel like a mechanical robot at the café. I fill orders, clean tables and make idle chit-chat, but my mind isn't really focused on anything that I'm doing. Instead, I'm reliving what went down last night with Ace and trying to sort it out in my mind. I'd cried myself to sleep last night, but this morning as I'd eaten breakfast before going to work, I started analyzing the situation. The more I thought about it, the more I began to realize that perhaps Ace's reaction wasn't about rejecting me at all.

While I worked my shift, I began mentally putting together the pieces of a puzzle, and the finished product has me feeling helpless and heartbroken. Not for me though, but for Ace. Last night wasn't about me; it was about what I had done.

Ace has a thing for restraints, and from what he’d told me, it's the only way he has sex. I've always known there was a reason behind his need for it, but when he'd switched the topic, I'd known that he wasn't ready to explain it. I'd accepted the fact that he doesn't want to restrain me, and we'd moved on.

The more I'd thought about it, I'd zeroed in on that night that we'd ended up in his bedroom. I remember sensing that something was just...off. I was uncomfortable, and I remember when I'd touched Ace's hip that he'd stiffened up. The fact that his hand hadn't continued its journey up to my breasts has me realizing his tensing up had not been a good thing. I think I'd unsettled him, but I'd been too lost in my thoughts to pay much attention to that small sign that something wasn't right.

Speed up to last night, and Ace was perfectly fine until I got below his waist. He'd been enjoying everything I'd been doing until I went below his belly button. I distinctly remember the way he'd gone perfectly still, and I remember wondering if he had stopped breathing in anticipation or if I'd done something wrong. He'd still had his erection, so I'd gone forward with my plan to pleasure him. The second I'd reached out to touch him, I'd found myself flat on my back, and he was gone.

The pain I felt last night has eased as I realized that a reaction that extreme had been automatic. I'm familiar with that instinctive need to react before you can sort out the situation in your mind. After Justin attacked me, I spent weeks freaking out if someone approached me from behind. When something bad happens to you, you react on instinct for a while until you can work it out in your head and move on from it.

Something happened to Ace.

Someone did something to him to cause him not to want to be touched sexually. It's why he likes restraining women so much—it allows him to be in full control, and no one can touch him without his permission. I wish he had told me. I never would have tried what I had last night if I would have known he's been traumatized by something from his past.

My situation is entirely different from his, but I can understand his reasoning for not contacting me today. It hurts seeing no new text messages on my phone every time I glance at it, but I instinctively know that he needs this time to pull himself together and sort out his thoughts. We can't move on with our relationship if he doesn't open up to me about what's holding him back. I
need
to know so that I don't do anything again that could trigger the kind of reaction he'd had last night. All I can do is wait for him to come to me.

That's going to be the hardest part of all. I want to reach out to him, let him know that whatever happened in his past will stay between just the two of us. I want him to know that it doesn't change how I feel about him. Ace has always been big on not looking weak, he's alpha male all the way. To admit any sort of vulnerability is going to be hard for him. I'm just going to have to prove to him that I don't see it as a shortcoming, that I only see
him.
Our pasts make up who we are today, whatever happened to him, we'll deal with it together. That is if he'll still want me in his life. There's always that sickening thought that he'll run from me and his past.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur as my mind firmly stays distracted by Ace. When my shift ends at seven, I refuse to go back to my apartment. I really do need to buy a TV or something, because that's the reason I'm taking a bus downtown tonight. There's nothing to do at home to get my mind off of Ace. Sure, Daisy can be entertaining, but sooner or later she'll go do her own thing, and I'll be left to my own thoughts. It's pointless to try reading since I'm certain my mind will wander.

Feeling desperate for a diversion, I go out to dinner by myself. Afterwards, I take another bus further downtown so that I can window shop until I feel like going home. I'd text messaged Zoey earlier in hopes of doing something with her, but she had plans with Caleb. That leaves me to my own devices tonight. When I'd left for work this morning, I'd already had plans to stay out of the apartment for the evening, so I'd brought along a little extra cash. I figure I'll do a little shopping if anything catches my eye.

I hop off the bus a few minutes later and begin walking down the sidewalk. It's busy out, and I dodge a few people while being careful to keep to myself. Once in a while I am prone to feeling paranoid, as if someone is watching or following me. I know it’s just my imagination, but it doesn’t stop me from being careful, so I look over my shoulder a few times as I wander into a few clothing stores. Nothing looks appealing to me; I guess I'm not exactly in the mood to buy anything.

As I walk, I check my phone every so often, but it remains silent. I wish I knew what Ace was up to tonight. Is he thinking of me? It's really hard for me to stay away now that I have an idea about what he's dealing with. I also know that pushing him into talking before he's ready is a bad, bad idea. I'm just going to have to take it one day at a time and hope that he comes to me eventually.

I've been walking for ten minutes when I come upon Red Gannon's. The second my eyes rest on the tattoo shop, I feel my mood brighten as the earlier feeling of being watched fades. I've been considering getting another tattoo—something that actually means something to me rather than having it simply cover a scar like the ones on my back.

I slip inside the shop and side step a heavily tattooed guy who is heading for the exit. Loud rock music plays overhead, and I walk around a small group of girls my age and wander to the back of the shop to look at the designs on the wall. There are a few other people studying the designs, but they pay no attention to me.

As I slowly walk along the wall, I can't resist chewing on my thumbnail contemplatively as I try to figure out what I want. It would help if I knew what the meanings were behind some of the designs. I have no idea how long I've been in the shop, but I start slightly when I turn and find Logan standing beside me.

He grins. “Hey there. Back again already?”

I can't help but admire how cute he is, and I distinctly remember how good it had felt when he'd kissed me. Even though I had a good time with him the night we'd gone out, I realize he doesn't leave me feeling weak in the knees like Ace does.

I try to shove Ace out of my mind as I answer Logan's question. “I was thinking of getting another tattoo.”

“What did you have in mind? I have an opening in about thirty minutes,” he offers as he gazes down at me with his usual interest. I have a feeling he's still kind of 'in' to me, even though he hasn't asked me out again.

“I haven't picked anything out yet.” My eyes shift to the designs on the wall. “Nothing is really standing out to me.”

“Where do you want it?”

I hold out my right wrist and point to the inside of it. “Right here.”

He nods. “What's the first thing that pops into your head when you think of getting another tattoo?”

“Freedom,” I say instantly. “Something that means overcoming something difficult.”

Logan's eyes flicker with realization, and I know he's probably thinking of the scars on my back. “You'll want something small. Your wrist is pretty tiny, you go too big and it'll look out of place. It should look natural where you want it. Give me a sec,” he says and walks away to one of the tables topped with binders full of designs. He picks through them until he finds the one he's looking for, and he comes back over flipping through the pages.

“These are what come to mind when I think of what you want,” he holds the binder out to me.

I accept it and gaze at the hummingbird designs. Some are bold and simple while others are extremely detailed and delicate. “They're beautiful,” I murmur as I study one in particular.

“Hummingbird tattoos have many different meanings. The one that comes to my mind in particular is the symbolization of overcoming difficult times and hardships. A hummingbird can represent surpassing them,” he explains to me.

“You just happen to know this off the top of your head?” I ask with a slight smile as I look up at him.

“It's my job to know what certain designs mean or else I'm a shitty tattooist. Nothing like putting the wrong tat on someone if the symbolization is the opposite of what the customer wants,” he points out. Then he grins, “Plus, most women come in here wanting the girlie stuff. Hummingbirds are pretty popular right now.”

I turn my attention back to the hummingbird designs and point to the one my eyes keep gravitating to. “How much would this one cost?”

“Depends on the size,” he says and quotes a few prices.

I mentally calculate how much I have on me. “You said you have an opening in thirty minutes?”

“Yeah, I'm waiting on that chick up front to pick out her piercing. After that, I have an opening before my ten arrives.”

“Go ahead and schedule me in.”

Logan says he'll come find me when he's ready, and I walk over to one of the vacant sofas in the room to sit down. I lift my wrist and gaze at where the tattoo will be. I'm excited. After this one there will be no more tattoos. I have no intention of covering myself with them or coming back for more. This will be it.

Since I haven't checked my phone in the past half hour, I can't resist pulling it out and glancing at the screen. Still nothing from Ace. I hope he's okay. I slip the phone back in my purse and try to stay positive about the situation. He'll contact me sooner or later. He won't throw away what we have, he wouldn't do that.