Devil's Despair Box Set: Books 1-3 (41 page)

Grabbing the beer I left beside her, I hear myself ask Lacey, “Do you want to come sit and hang out for a few before I head out?”

Say yes.

She nods her agreement with narrowed and suspicious eyes, but I feel her coming in behind me as I walk into the living room. My thoughts are fucked-up and even knowing they’re wrong, I’m enjoying them. It’s probable I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m not sure if I should stop drinking and give myself time to sober up or take Trav’s couch and hear him bitch about it in the morning.

“Do you live around here?” I hear her ask before I’m able to pull a decision together.

“Close, but not too close. About twenty minutes, give or take.”

“Trav said you sing. How long have you done that?”

“Since I was about eleven, I guess.”

She sits quietly on the other end of the couch, giving me a few free seconds to study her. She looks flustered and nervous, a feeling I’m used to watching women own while in my presence. Some don’t talk to me at all. It’s part of being ‘pretty.’ I’m not unappreciative of my appearance; it’s not conceit though, as most times I wish I wasn’t so pretty. I’m jealous of Ace and Travis’s tough, moody composure.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Her third question is asked in the same monotone as the others.

“Nope. None.”

“Do you . . .”

I cut her off, tired of answering questions. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Sorry. Just curious. I got to know the others; they talk more than you do.”

“Talk,” I repeat. “That’s what you want to do?” I watch her face blush a shade of red, unsure if it’s embarrassment or anger as I lose her eyes. She’s studying her hands in front of her. “Lacey?” I interject, hoping to get her focus.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, but look at me.”

“What?” she snaps; I can see her body’s position and sense she’s starting to get annoyed. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“There’s not a lot to know,” I answer shortly.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Deciding to turn the tables, I ask, “What about you?”

“What
about
me?” she returns in a defensive gesture.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Like what?”

“Do you like men?”

“Seriously?”

I laugh. Like Travis, I note she doesn’t have much patience. “No, but you’re cute when you’re anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.” She shakes her head in disagreement, dismissing my reference to her being cute. “I’m going to head to bed, I think. Are you . . .” She starts to ask another question and stops.

I interrupt dryly, “No, Lacey, I’m not sleeping with you . . .
yet.
”

She smiles wide, her green eyes dancing with humor. “I wasn’t going to ask that!”

“You were thinking it,” I say, still feeling a little intoxicated.

She laughs but speaks through it. “What we think and what we do are two different things.”

Admission.

All evening she played her disinterest well; I wasn’t fooled. Not only is she affected in my presence, she feels what I feel when I look at her. She feels the attraction.

Walking past me to her room, I reach my hand out to grab her wrist and stop her movement. She looks down on me with an obvious tension, and I hold onto her as I bring myself up from the couch. She takes a step back and I match hers with a bigger one of my own, not giving her room to turn away.

Leaning down, my hands cup her face and I kiss her. It’s not a sweet seduction I’m used to working with other women. I pull her bottom lip in my mouth and suck it viciously, but she doesn’t respond at all. When I open my eyes, I see hers are still open and now questioning.

“Why’d you do that?” Her tone is merely tolerant to say the least. I don’t answer and don’t remove my hands from her face. I lean down and peck her now roughly kissed bottom lip. “I . . . I think I’m . . .” She tries to continue, but can’t.

“Talk,” I say, enjoying another flustered stare.

Rather than turn away as I had expected she would’ve, she passes me, positions herself on the floor by the couch and makes herself comfortable.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching you,” she states, shifting her shirt in the back as a way to distract herself.

“Watching me?”

“You’re obviously drunk. You just kissed a girl you just met. Without being invited or coerced, I may add.”

I laugh out loud at her observation. This means Travis and Ace didn’t taint her first impression of me; I did that all by myself.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Sure seemed it, ya know . . . shoving your tongue down my throat and all.”

Moving to sit next to her, the couch taking the weight of our backs, we both look ahead. “You didn’t like the kiss, huh? Too drunk and disorderly?”

She thinks momentarily before rendering her judgment. “Kiss was good. It was your approach. Some women like . . . I don’t know . . . maybe a second to prepare?”

“Next time,
maybe.
”

“And, while you’re at it, don’t take my clothes off anymore.”

“Are
you
drunk? You’re still dressed,” I needlessly point that out.

Leaning in, hitting my shoulder with hers, she answers, “Apron. Gloves. Those are still clothes. You were trying to seduce me after dinner.”

“I was trying to seduce you
during
dinner. You didn’t notice?”

“Staring hungrily at a girl is your version of seduction?”

I don’t answer. She’s smirking as she realizes I’m doubting my own ability to seduce a woman. Mentally, I’m recalculating Acts One and Two in my playbook.

“You’re too young to know anything about seduction,” I accuse.

“No, not too young. I’m just not easy. If a man gets to have me, he has to work for it.”

“I’ll remember this in the future.”

“Well, that would help,” she advises smartly.

Throughout the rest of the night, we talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. I’ve never sat with a woman and just had mindless conversation. It’s easy and relaxing listening to her fill me in about her life and where she came from.

She told me about her and her friend, Addison, and how they grew up. They never got into any trouble, only because they had never been caught as most teenagers tend to do. Addie is pissed she left home and hasn’t spoken to her since the night she called to tell her goodbye.

Her love of music, unfortunately, isn’t like-minded to mine. She doesn’t appreciate the old stuff; she’s more into pop and rap. I accepted that, but not without giving her a lot of grief.

She also told me about her ex-boyfriend, Alec, the douche, as I now refer to him. He actually slept with her
mother.
She and her mom were never close, and after that night a couple of weeks ago, she’s vowed to discard her from her life completely.

I told her things about my life: my mom leaving when I was born; my dad’s alcohol addiction; how Ace, Travis, and Toby are the constant staples in my life. She listened to every word I said and didn’t appear to judge my answers harshly.

She
did
ask me about my single status, though. I was honest with my answers, readying for her to question me more on the topic.

“You’ve never been in a relationship, ever?”

“Nope. Why make emotional payments to a woman when she can milk me for free?” It was a dick answer, but it’s the one I gave. Crude, I know.

“That’s kind of sad. How old are you?”

“How old are
you?
” I asked. Although ready for judgment, I never appreciate it.

“You’re what, like nineteen? You hardly have enough experience.”

“Twenty-one, and that’s just age.”

“No, Lacey. I’ve never been in a real relationship. At least not as long as I’ve been an adult.”

“I hope I meet the girl who does you in then. That’s crazy.”

“Crazy to you is satisfying to me.”

She moved her hands in surrender. “I’m not saying what you’re doing with women is wrong. I’ve just never been that type of woman, I guess.”

I leaned in closer to her, watching her skin pebble in anticipation to my nearness. Bringing my voice to a whisper, I watched her shudder when I said, “If you’d ever like to try being that type, you let me know.”

She changed the subject after that and referenced the time. Before we knew it, the sun was coming up; we hadn’t slept the entire night. I should’ve been exhausted, yet I had never felt so awake.

“Are you going to be at The Ward tonight? It’s my first night.”

Getting up off the floor and cracking my back, I tell her, “Yeah. You’ll probably be missing me by then, so I’ll stop to say hello.”

“Leave your sad flirting behind, will you?”

“Sad flirting?”

“Flirting. Seduction. Whatever that was earlier.”

“Right. Well, we’ll see.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Hayden

“HEY, DAD? ARE you around?”

“In here, Hayden,” I hear my dad call out from the direction of his den. He works from home most days, only going into the office for important meetings. He’s in recovery and until it’s certain he’s stable, he’s nervous about being out and what possible temptations that can offer. Once he sees me standing at his door, he asks, “You look worn out and tired, son. Busy night?”

My dad, the aging player, asks, but in his eyes I don’t find the usual celebratory look I once did. Just six months ago, he would have offered a high-five in congratulations for being out all night. Since being sober, it seems my dad has realized he’s spent all these years alone without a woman to love him as he deserves to be loved.

“Not really. I stayed at Trav’s last night. I met his little sister, Lacey.”

“Ah, that’s right. The long-lost sister. How was she?”

I pause, thinking of a way to accurately describe her, but I’m not sure what to say. I aim for vague. “She’s fun; kinda sweet, too.”

Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Travis Nikels’ kid sister is
fun
and
sweet?
”

“Yeah, she is. If you can believe that.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Stepping further into the office, I take a seat across from him as he muddles through law files and paperwork.

Meeting Lacey last night was interesting. The jovial conversation and friendly banter was fun. All the way over here, I thought about her and how easy she was to be around. She’s sweet and funny, and her cocky attitude and quick wit had me smiling without effort. Apparently, she’s immune to my attempts of flirting and seduction.

I’ll try harder.

“Dad, how did you know Mom was the one you’d spend the rest of your life missing?” I ask the question I hadn’t ever thought to ask him in all these years. I didn’t ask him how he knew my mom was ‘the one’ because throughout even my young life, he’s told me time and time again she was the one who got away.

After flipping through a few more papers, my dad tosses the last one on the filing cabinet next to him and stares at them while contemplating his answer. “Truth?”

“Yes.” Even though I’m unsure I’m ready to hear it.

“I didn’t know she was the one for me until after she left us.”

His answer surprises me. “You told me you were going to marry her.” I state the truth. “How did you not know?”

“My life was different then, Hayden. I was in law school and she worked at a diner near the college. Neither of us had much between us; no family really to speak of and definitely not any money. It was a summer spent doing no more than taking long walks, talking, and just being together. I was about to graduate that spring and start my internship downtown when she told me she was pregnant with you.”

“Why do you think she really left?” My voice, both hopeful for answers and honest with question, waivers slightly.

“I don’t know and I knew I’d never have that answer. But I had you, so I knew I had to let her go. You were more important to both of us at the time.”

“You never looked for her?”

Dad sighs and leans up in his chair, elbows resting on his mahogany desk. He looks uncertain and lost as if he’s thought about this every day since she left and wondered if he had done the right thing by letting her go. “She didn’t want to be found, Hayden. Olivia . . . your mother was a free spirit. She loved life and when she left, the way she left, I knew it was best for everyone to leave it alone and just say goodbye.”

“You never found anyone else.” I hear the accusation in my tone. I often wondered what my life would’ve been like with a maternal figure to help both him and me.

“I didn’t
want
to find anyone else. She was it for me. There wouldn’t have been any point to looking for more, because she wasn’t coming back.”

“Tell me more about her. What was she like?”

Dad starts to speak, but stops himself to think before telling me about her through his eyes. “She was funny. Her humor was dry and something I always found made her attractive. She liked animals. When she found out she was pregnant with you, she begged me to get her a dog.”

“You didn’t.” I’d never had a pet growing up. As every boy did, I wished for one.

He chuckles while shaking his head. “No, I didn’t. I was jealous of every man who so much as looked at your mother. I wasn’t about to get her an animal that would draw her attention away from me. I was selfish and wanted her all to myself.”

“Harsh, Dad.”

“I should’ve given her so much more than I did. I regret it. She never asked anything of me, though. Not even my time. She was selfless in that way.”

“I think about finding her sometimes,” I confess and when I do, my dad pins me with a pointed glare.

“She left, Hayden. Leave it alone. Some people don’t want to be found.”

Easing the tension around my dad’s eyes, I smile as I look out the window to see Cathy’s van pulling up and inform my dad of something that should be obvious to him. “Cathy likes you.”

Cathy Jennings is my dad’s cook and maid. He hired her after I moved out during my freshman year of college. She’s the one friend in my dad’s life who’s seen him at his darkest but never left. She’s his age and has witnessed, time and time again, my dad reaching to stay young by surrounding himself with woman after woman, some nearly half his age. On occasions, she’s pinned me down long enough to ask for advice on how to rid my dad of those ‘money-hungry whores’ who came around more than she appreciated.