The UN Series Complete Box Set (139 page)

“Well, I also came to talk to Tate about something,” she announces as she turns in her chair to face me.

“About what?” I ask curiously.

“Missy’s birthday is this weekend. I’m throwing her another party and I want you there.”

I start shaking my head the moment she says Missy. “Come on? Please?” she begs, and it makes my skin crawl. I hate that word. I hate to hear someone beg for anything. It shows weakness. People call it polite. I call it pathetic!

“No,” I scowl. “I don’t even know why you asked. She won’t want me there anyway,” I say, getting up and walking over to Parker. He protests as I reach down and take Sadey from him.

Sam looks from me over to her husband for help. He lets out a long breath as if to say he knew it was going to be harder than she had hoped. “She won’t care if you’re there,” she says looking back at me.

“You’re lying,” I say as I rock Sadey back and forth. I reach up and remove the big ass pink bow from around her head and toss it into Parker’s lap. The poor kid has to have neck pain from how big those things are.

“I’m not. I spoke with her about it. She told me she was okay if I invited you,” she explains while she takes the bow out of Parker’s hands.

She probably only said that ‘cause I’m Sam’s brother. Missy could care less if I’m there. “And Braxton?” I ask arching a brow. This will give me my out. He won’t want me there. Braxton hates me, which I don’t understand. He’s the one with her. Not me. Shouldn’t I be the one who hates him? I only had her once. He gets to have her whenever he wants. Those soft creamy thighs. Perfect round breasts, and that ass that just begs for my hands to touch. My dick starts to swell, and I immediately think of beating the fuck out of Braxton. This is not the time to get hard.

“They broke up,” she says with too much excitement in her voice.

My chest tightens.
Fuck!
Why does that make me want to run to her? To ask her if she’s okay. Did he break her heart?
I’ll break his legs
! I know, I’m fucked-up considering what I did to her, but I did that to protect her from me.

“Why are you pushing this?” I ask curious. Why does she want me around Missy in the first place? And why do I want to go?

She sighs. “Because I think it will be good for you guys to grow up and get over what happened. You’re my brother and she’s one of my best friends. You guys are bound to be invited to all the things that we do.”

Can I handle being around Missy? Can I keep my hands off of her? No and no, but I find myself growling, “Fine.” Sam claps her hands and she hisses out a yes. “When’s the party?” I ask sitting back down in my seat with Sadey. I hate that my heart is beating faster knowing that I’m going to be seeing her on her birthday. Last year on her twenty-first birthday she got so drunk, she ended up getting sick and then passing out in the bathroom. I had carried her to Sam and Slade’s spare bedroom and tucked her into bed. I had wanted her then.

“This weekend at our house,” she says happily, and I look over at Parker. He has a huge grin on his face like he knows a fucking secret about me. I look away and turn to catch Slade staring at me. His blue eyes are soft as he looks at me with pity. This party is going to be a total disaster.

Fuck me!

******

MISSY

I push my cold food around my plate with my fork as I let out a big sigh.

“I said no garlic. How could you have possibly misunderstood that?”

I look across the darkened restaurant to the table that is next to us as a woman dressed in a black Gucci dress with expensive heels to match speaks harshly to her waiter. She points her long, fire red painted nail at his chest before she flicks her long auburn hair off of her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” The waiter apologizes as he nods his head to her. “I will…”

“Where is Peter?” she demands, looking around. Her husband ignores her outburst while he cuts into his steak. He must know how to tune her out. Wish we were as lucky. “I want to speak to your manager. I know Peter is here,” she continues.

I hate this Italian restaurant. I’ve been here so many times over the last ten months and every time I come here I feel out of place. Doesn’t matter how much I dress up or how much makeup I put on—I don’t fit in here. I feel like I’m back in high school and everyone just talks about me as I walk by. They know I don’t belong. The women look at me as if I were just some dog that Braxton picked up off the streets and dressed up. 

“Missy?”

I turn back to look at the man sitting across from me. He sits back in his chair and frowns. “Everything okay?” His brown eyes look down to my plate before returning back to mine. “You haven’t eaten anything,” he observes as his frown deepens.

I nod my head. “I’m just not very hungry tonight,” I tell Braxton.

I met Braxton about a year ago through my friends, Slade and Samantha. He works for Slade’s dad’s law firm as a defense attorney. He is a good lawyer and has the money to go along with it for someone so young. He also likes the most expensive things in life. I, however, am not that way.

My parents aren’t poor, by any means, but we didn’t go out and spend hundreds of dollars on a dinner that included the most expensive bottle of wine the restaurant could provide. My family doesn’t even drink. Well, besides me.

He raises his hand for the waiter, who comes running from the darkened corner.

“Yes Mr. O’Hare?” the waiter asks kindly. They all know him here. His father is the mayor of this town, so even though Braxton has made a name for himself, he was still known before he became an accomplished defense attorney.

Braxton leans over and grabs my plate. He lifts it to the waiter and speaks. “My date would like this to-go. Can you wrap it up and keep it in the back until we are ready? And also, another glass of wine? Please.”

I try to hide the cringe when he says
date.
We’re not dating anymore. We tried in the past but it just didn’t work out. Braxton is a great guy. He’s sweet and kind. Successful. Very affectionate. He always tells me how pretty I am and how much he adores me, but it means nothing. He’s not the one I love. Believe me, I tried.

I gaze at his dark hair, long enough for him to comb back, his three-piece suit, and an expensive watch so big that it takes up his entire wrist. He’s just not the one for me. He’s not the one who I’ve had a taste of and still want. Even if said person did break my heart.

Tate destroyed me, and that day still haunts me. The day my world was ripped from me and left me with nothing but bad memories and heartache. Braxton was there. He wasn’t the one I wanted—but he was the only one there for me. He took care of me.

I owed him something for that. I owed him a chance, and that chance just didn’t work out. But, thankfully, we remain friends.

The waiter returns with my glass of wine. I thank him before bringing the rim of the wine glass to my lips. I take a small sip and relax when I swallow the cold, light liquid.

“So how are things going up at the bakery?” Braxton asks as he dabs the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

I set my glass of wine on the table before I answer. “Really well,” is all I say. Slade bought Sam that bakery for her wedding present. She had always dreamed of opening a bakery with her mom. But after her mom passed away, Slade felt that it was his responsibility to encourage his wife to live on with her dream.

He tilts his head to the side, and his brows crinkle in confusion. “What about school? You haven’t mentioned it. How’s it going?”

School? I try to avoid this topic. It was just another area in my life that proved I was a failure. That my weakness won in the end.

The truth is I quit school. It was really the only thing I had going in my life. I was going to be an RN and make something of myself. When my world crashed as a result of my one night with Tate in Vegas, I quit. I couldn’t do it. For weeks I spent all of my time locked away in Braxton’s house—fading away bit by bit.

“I’m taking some time off,” I say with a shrug of my shoulder before reaching for my wine again.

“What?” He leans forward, placing his forearms on the table. The sleeves to his suit pull back in the process showcasing the dark hair that covers his arms. “Why? When?” His brows pull together and his dark eyes watch me intently.

“I just needed to take a semester off,” I say, trying to brush it off as no big deal. But the truth is that I’m not gonna go back. I actually quit months ago but I was able to keep up the lie for a while. Then I got to the point where I didn’t want to have to pretend to go to class on a daily basis. Lucky for me—no one has asked.

“Why?” he urges, wanting an answer, and it irks me. I feel like he’s judging me when I’ve been judged my entire life. My family is very religious and were strict with my brother and me. We weren’t allowed to do most things other kids were allowed to do, and if that wasn’t enough, I was also the geek in school. I got judged for how I dressed and for wearing glasses. The fact that I studied instead of partied. I was never the pretty girl. Everyone laughed at me, and they didn’t do it behind my back, they did it to my face. At least no one pretended to be my friend.

I release a heavy sigh. “I had to. Sam offered me a full-time job at the bakery making great money. I wanted to move out of my parents’ house. I couldn’t afford that and continue school full-time as well.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he tilts his head in confusion. “Why didn’t you ask me? I would have helped you with the money,” he says as if I should have thought of that as an option. “You know money…”

That makes me even madder. He’s already helped me more than I care to admit. “I didn’t want to owe you more than I already do,” I interrupt him.

“Is that what this is?” He leans back and spreads his arms out gesturing to us and the restaurant. “You paying up?” he asks with a look of pain on his face.

Yes.
“No,” I say softly shaking my head and dropping my eyes to my wine glass. I go to take another drink of my wine but he grabs my hand.

“You don’t owe me anything, Missy. I’m always here for you. You know that, right?” His words are spoken softly and are sincere. They make my heart break a little. I wish I could love him.

“I know. Thank you,” I say looking down at the table trying to ignore his brown eyes as they stare into mine.

“I can talk to Sam? See if she can lessen your hours?” he offers. “You can get back into school, if not full-time, then, at least part-time.”

I jerk my hand from his. “No,” I say a little too harshly, making people turn and stare down at me. I lean in and lower my voice. “Do not speak to her, Braxton. I love my job. Please just drop it.” I plead with him to understand where I’m coming from but people like him very rarely do. He has the means to do anything that he wants. I’m not saying he doesn’t work hard for that money, he does. I’m just saying that he doesn’t understand what it’s like to have to depend on someone else. And I’ve depended on him too much already.

He nods his head and raises his hand for the waiter. In seconds he’s standing at our table and Braxton is asking for the check and my leftovers from the back. I finish off my wine while Braxton pays.

Once we are sitting comfortably, driving down the highway in his expensive Range Rover, he breaks the silence. “Do you want me to take you to my house or yours?”

I still stay at his house every now and then. Sometimes the memories of what I lost come crashing down on me and I need his arms to hold me. The only thing is, he doesn’t know that I imagine Tate instead. That I imagine he’s the one rocking me back and forth reminding me that he’s there for me no matter what.

“I’ll go home. Thanks though,” I answer looking out the window at the passing cars.

He gets my attention when he places his soft hand on my thigh. “You know you don’t have to pretend everything is okay, Missy? These things just don’t go away.”

I’m drowning. Can’t breathe. No longer able to see a way out. I live in the blackness that has consumed my life. Taken over what I once was. 

Tears spill down my cheeks as I sit on the cold tile of Braxton’s bathroom floor while he sleeps in his bed. I grip my phone tightly in one hand. Wiping my tears away with the other as I look down to my phone and read the message that Sam had sent me hours ago.

Sam:
The girls and I are going to the bridal store to be fitted for their dresses. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Are you going to be able to be fitted for yours tomorrow as well?

I type out a response.

Me:
Can’t make it.

I lean my head back and close my eyes. Hoping that the darkness takes me once again. It’s easier. I don’t have to remember or think about what happened. I find comfort in the darkness that has come to consume me. Even if that darkness comes from a bottle. 

I lift the bottle and take a swig. I grimace as I try to swallow the warm, foul liquid. I feel like I may puke but I’m finally able to swallow it. This is the only way that I can forget. This is the only way that has me able to close my eyes and not see that nightmare in front of me. To not have to hear the words ‘I’m sorry, Missy,’ from the doctor just days ago.