Someone Like You (24 page)

Abby.
Christ almighty, what a disaster. Thank God, Julia had gotten her the hell out of there. But not soon enough. Her stricken expression flashed through his mind for the hundredth time, that look of horrified astonishment on her beautiful face. She thought she was going to a party, not a hostile war zone. Not caring how it looked to anyone or about the consequences, the old man had aimed right at her, to hurt him.

It worked.

Pierce's insides were throbbing and screaming for ten different reasons, and all the whiskey in the world wasn't helping to drown it out. His head dropped into his hands as he leaned against the railing and his blood pulsed through his veins.

It'd been half an hour since Julia had dragged her out of the ballroom. Where was she? Maybe she'd gone home? Fuck. He should go look for her, he knew that . . . but if Abby didn't want to date him anymore after tonight, or even
see
him anymore, could he blame her? He should've done a better job at shielding her from the barrage of insults. Maybe she was mad at him. He had no idea.

Or . . . maybe he should let her go, for her own sake.

Not drag her any deeper into this hellish freak show called The Harrison Family. Set her free to find someone normal, with a family that wasn't a nightmare and a past that wasn't so fucked up.

But he was selfish. He didn't want to let her go. His feelings ran too deep, and he wanted her in his life. In his bed. At his side. She was everything he'd wanted without even knowing it.

The waiter approached him silently and held out another glass of whiskey. Pierce thanked him, took it, sipped, and closed his eyes as he tried to calm the noise in his head. Half of him wanted to bury himself in Abby for comfort, and the other half wanted to push her out the door for her own good. The battle raged inside him.

“Pierce?”

He turned to see her standing at the doorway. The light from inside shone brightly behind her, shadowing her face but outlining her in an ethereal glow. She looked like an angel. God, she was so beautiful. So sweet. So good.

Too good for you,
his father's voice whispered in his head.
And deep down, you both know I'm right.

He took another gulp of whiskey.

“I've been looking for you,” Abby said quietly, stepping toward him. “Julia's son told me he thought you were out here.”

“I like Colin,” Pierce said, anything to make conversation. “He's a good guy.”

“Yes, he is.” She edged closer, her expression cautious. “So are you, you know.”

Pierce snorted. “Right.” He stole another sip of whiskey.

Her hands fidgeting with her little clutch bag, she eyed him warily and asked, “So . . . been drinking, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Understandable.” She stood before him, watching him. He said nothing, just looked back at her, until she said, “Your father's a real bastard. I don't like him much.”

He had to laugh at that. “Yeah, me neither.”

“You know he attacked me to get at you, right?”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “Yeah, I do. You know that too?”

“I'm a smart cookie.” Her words were teasing, but her gaze was solemn. “Have to admit, though, I don't like being a pawn in a war.”

He stiffened as his heart skipped a beat. “I don't want you to be.”

“So . . . what do we do about that?” she whispered.

“We never come back to this hellhole,” Pierce said, referring to the mansion.

“True. But you'll see him again anyway. That tends to happen if you're related.”

“Why do you think I left the fucking country at eighteen?”

“Okay, but you're back now. I mean, you said you're moving back here. And that you want things here, including me as your girlfriend.” Abby inclined her head, studying him, looking through him. “All that is true, right?”

His throat thickened and closed.
Now.
He should let her go now. Before she got in any deeper, before he fucked up her life simply by associating with him, before he loved her so much he wouldn't be able to let her go. Could he be selfless with a woman for once in his life, even if it meant watching her walk away?

“Pierce?” Her voice got smaller.

He stared back at her, his insides erupting into war and chaos. He loved her. He really did. Because if he didn't, none of this would hurt, much less turn him inside out.

He shook his head and gulped back more whiskey. It left a trail of fire down his throat and he welcomed the burn.

“So tell me something,” she said, an edge in her voice now. Her arms crossed over her breasts in a defensive stance. “What he said about you sleeping with married women. Is that true?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “Not this year, but prior to it, yes.”

Her eyes rounded, and even in the shadows of moonlight, he could see the color drain from her face. “That's . . . unfortunate.”

“
They
propositioned
me.
I'm not the one who was married.” He knew how callous that sounded, and the look of condemnation in her eyes struck him like a physical blow.

She stared at him, searching. Tension fell over them, heavy and thick and suffocating. “Did you purposely seek out married women?”

“No. But if they hit on me, I didn't turn them away for that.” He returned her gaze, his stomach churning. “Here's the truth about who I was before: It
was
easier to sleep with married women. It was safe. Because it couldn't go anywhere. They had no expectations from me, except the attention and the sex. They got to live out their fantasy of fucking a football star, then went home to their boring husbands and their safe lives. And left me alone.” He scrubbed his free hand over his jaw. “And in some ways, that was better than being with the young, single women, because they wanted things from me. Expected them. Even when I made it clear I had no interest in giving those things. That I was incapable.”

Abby blinked and took a step back, the horror clear on her face. It made him cringe inside, but he said, “Isn't that what you wanted to hear, Abby? The truth? Well, that's the truth. That's what kind of scumbag manwhore I was. I told you I wouldn't lie to you. So I figure if you're going to judge me, as you obviously are, you should at least have the facts.”

“You're upset with
me?
And accusing me of judging you?” Abby retorted. “You're being a total asshole right now,
that's
what I'm judging you for. Your past is your past. I wasn't there. I don't really care about that.”

“Bullshit.” He pushed off the railing, sending the amber liquid in his glass sloshing over the rim. He stared down at her, intensely and directly into her eyes. “Look right at me and tell me you're not disgusted that I dated married women and didn't give a shit.”

She blinked. “I'm . . . trying not to be.”

“But you are. Don't lie. You hate liars, right?” he pressed.
Shut the fuck up, man!
But he couldn't stop. He was spinning out of control now and he knew it, but couldn't seem to find the brakes. “I'm not a liar, but I'm an asshole. I'm a man without morals if I could do that. You think of me differently now, right? Maybe you should.”

She gaped at him, her arms tightening around herself. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it's who I am, Abby. This whole fucked-up family. I'm part of it, whether I like it or not. If you're in my life, you'll have to deal with all of that. The skeletons of my past, the demons in my present.” He peered down at her. “You really want to? You sure?”

“Right at this moment?” she asked, her voice quavering. “No, I don't. I'm ready to call it quits right now. But I think that's what you're going for here, isn't it? Trying to push me away? Getting me to dump you so you don't have to worry about what I think of you?”

He paused. Christ, she saw right through him. She
knew
he was trying to push her away. And she was still standing there. Which meant he wasn't doing it hard enough. “I didn't sleep with Victoria Huntsman,” he said. “You said you believed me.”

“I did. I do.” A chilly breeze blew across the terrace, and she rubbed her bare arms for warmth.

“Okay, good. But I did sleep with married women.” He watched that sink in, caught the flash of shock in her eyes. And it stung. “Don't make me out to be someone I'm not. I'm not Mister Wonderful. A lot of that tabloid bullshit is just that, bullshit. But some of the stories . . . they're true. I did some fucked-up things. I can't change the past. But I'll gladly tell you whatever you want to know.”

“At the moment, I don't want to know anything more,” she whispered raggedly. She clutched herself, shivering.

“You're standing there wondering if you made a mistake after all, letting someone like me into your life. Right?” He grimaced and shook his head as his heart pounded in his chest. His blood felt like it was rippling through him, and he was more than a little nauseous. “It's all over your face. You're disgusted with me right now. You should be.”

Her breath came in shallow bursts as her eyes got glassy. “Why are you doing this?”

“I'm telling you who I am.”

“No. You're telling me about who you were. The man you said you weren't anymore. Remember?” she pleaded. “How you asked me for a chance to prove you weren't that guy anymore? And you have. You
have,
Pierce. Don't let your father's poison mess with your head like this.”

His chest felt tight. God, she was fighting for him, even now. His father was right. He didn't deserve her. “Abby, get out now. While you can. Especially now you've seen this circus up close for yourself.
This
is my reality, not the hazy dreamy part where it's just you and me locked away in my sister's guest room. I'll have to deal with skirmishes like this often if I come back here.” His hands raked through his hair. “He won't let me forget my past. He doesn't want me here. He's a fucking sadist who gets off on fighting with me. That's all part of my reality if I move back here.”

“If?” she challenged. “Suddenly it's
if ?
I thought you wanted to be part of your family again, at least your siblings. And have something with me. Remember me, your girlfriend?” Tears spilled from her eyes and she angrily swiped them away. “You're supposed to come to me when you're hurting, not push me away. I thought you knew that.”

Pierce didn't think he'd ever felt as miserable as he did at that moment, and he'd had some pretty miserable moments. Everything she was saying was right. And seeing her fight not to cry, trying to get through to him . . . God, it hurt his heart. “After tonight, I don't know about any of that,” he said, his voice rough. “The move . . . our relationship . . . maybe it's all a bad idea after all.”

“Then maybe,” she seethed, “despite all your swagger and big talk and promises, you're nothing but a goddamn coward.”

Maybe you're right.
The thought filled him with a fresh wave of self-loathing that made him want to crawl out of his skin. But maybe it was good, that she was so disgusted with him. It would help her walk away. “Well. Everyone warned you about me, didn't they?”

She jolted as if he'd slapped her. It made his heart seize in his chest as instant regret flooded him. She deserved better than that from him. She deserved better than him, period. The old man was right. He took another long swallow of whiskey, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Yeah, they warned me,” she finally whispered, her voice ragged. “But blind, stupid me gave you a chance to prove them all wrong. Because I thought I saw something genuine in you.” More tears spilled over, and again she swiped them away. She huffed out a frustrated breath, her features twisting as she turned to look out at the night sky. “Well, it's good to know I'm consistent. Still being taken in by liars and ending up the fool. Yay me.”

God, what had he done? He hadn't seen that self-doubt in her eyes in weeks. He'd invested time and energy and true emotion to get that look
out
of her eyes. Fuck, this had gone much worse than he'd planned. Not that he'd had a plan, but trying to do right by her by letting her go . . . he wanted her to go, he didn't want to shred her. His gut twisted and churned, his chest ached, and there was a soft whirring in his head. Was that all the whiskey, or his rotten feelings? Didn't matter. What mattered was she deserved better. At the moment, that was the only thing that seemed clear to him.

He knocked back the rest of his drink. It made his head spin for a second, and he didn't care. For her sake, he had to make her leave.

“I'm sorry, Abby. You deserved better.”

“Oh, shut up.” Her anger was blistering as she turned her glassy eyes on him with contempt. “Why don't you have another drink, though? I'm sure that'll help.”

Warning sirens screamed in his head. If he didn't fix this right now, right fucking now, there might be no fixing it at all, ever. “You don't like me right now? Well, this is who I am.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No,” she bit out. “It's not. This is you hurting, because your father hurt you, and me, and embarrassed you, so you're running for cover. It's a textbook defense mechanism. I'm so fucking pissed at you right now. My God, Pierce.”

His throat got tight. Damn, she knew him so, so well. He was so glad she saw through him that he wanted to throw himself at her feet. But all he said was, “The only thing textbook about me, sweetheart, is that someone who appears to be bad news usually is.”