Blyssfully Undone: The Blyss Trilogy - book 3 (19 page)

I find myself suddenly chewing on my thumbnail, a very old, nervous habit, one I had when I first left home, going off to boarding school. Stress and insecurity are the culprits, and it pisses me off, because it took me a long time to lose the habit. Quinn’s stare is intense, and I can’t take the heat from it any longer, so I shift my gaze to his chest. He pries my finger away from my mouth, and keeps hold of my hand as he breaks the silence.

“Even if you were to be set free this very second, you know you could never go back. You do know that, right?” The tenacity of his gaze bores a hole straight through me, and I swallow hard.

Confused, I ask him to elaborate. “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s say if Nick wasn’t even part of the equation anymore; the bottom line is you’ve been through too much to go back to what it was you had before. If you went back to your old life, you wouldn’t survive it. Things would never be the same. You’ve acquired too much new history.”

“New history?” My brows furrow in confusion as I study his face and soak in his every word.

“Think about it for a moment. One of the reasons why we’re such a tight knit group is because at one time or another, all of us have killed. Nobody in your old life will be able to relate to what you’ve been through…or what you’re about to go through. They won’t know how to handle you, and you won’t know how to cope.” He pauses and gently runs his thumb over my cheekbone in a soothing gesture. “But Travis can relate.” I bite the inside of my cheek as he speaks with keen perception. “Not only will he help you, but he loves you…you know?”

I shake my head as I whisper, “He’s never said so.”

He takes a deep breath, and then lets out a long and controlled exhale through his pursed lips. He nods as if he's agreeing with himself, and then softly speaks, “Travis is the type of guy who’s more about letting his actions speak louder than words, you know? He’s got a few skeletons in his closet, and he has a hard time opening that door of vulnerability.” Then he eyes me cautiously. “Do you love him?”

The question catches me off guard, and I find myself nervously looking away. He lets go of my hand and captures my chin in a light grasp, reestablishing eye contact. No matter how personal a question, I can tell he’s not going to let me get out of this one. He raises a brow in question when I hesitate.

“I believe I fell in love with another man, Quinn. One who doesn’t really exist.”

His lips thin as he shakes his head at me. “No, you didn’t. Travis is the same man as he was yesterday, that he is today, and will be tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I whisper. “He’s left me confused as to who the real Travis is. Every time I turn around, I catch him in a web of lies.”

“Don’t judge him so harshly, Jules,” he states pointedly. “Everything he’s done has been to protect you, and I might add, he still is.”

I can’t seem to argue with that particular fact, other than there might be an ulterior motive I’m not privy to. A large part of me wishes I never got my memory back and we were still at the cabin, continuing to fall in love. A headache has developed behind my eyes, and it’s getting worse, most likely from all the crying and stress. Without thinking, I start massaging my temple.

“You’re getting a headache, aren’t you?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in concern. I look away, and he quickly steers my chin back toward him. His beautiful eyes flick back and forth over mine as he asses me. “I’ll get up in a second and get you some Tylenol and water,” he says in a soft, low voice, being mindful of my headache.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me, and for telling me the truth.”

“Jules,” he starts off speaking emphatically, “you’ve got to know you’re everything to Travis, and because of that, you’ve become part of our family here. We take care of each other.”

I lay my head back down against his big, burly chest in resignation as I snuggle against his warmth and let out a loud sigh. I’m literally exhausted. The crazy roller coaster of emotions I’ve been on over the past few days is pulling my sanity’s strings. I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere and sleep for a week. I close my eyes and pretend he’s Jake with his big, brotherly, protective arms wrapped around me.

“Since you guys know so much about my previous life, can you tell me if you know anything about my dad and Jake? How have they been, and are they still looking for me?” I ask as my voice fades along with my hope.

“Babe, I don’t know about any of that. I’m sorry. I was just told to investigate Adam, and make sure…” He trails off, not finishing his sentence.

I open my eyes. “Make sure of what?”

“Nothing…sorry.”

I bite my lower lip hard, forcing myself to be quiet. I know he’s hiding confidential stuff I’m not supposed to know, and maybe at this point it’s best I don’t know. What I do know is these guys are not a dog and pony show. They’ve done some homework, and I’m sure someone knows something about my dad and Jake. I know Quinn wouldn’t tell me anyway; he’s the kind of guy who only tells people things on a need-to-know basis. Every single one of these men are a vault with their secrets, and they must have a mass collection of them running ten-miles deep.

Travis

I’m sitting outside on the front porch swing in the cool of the evening with a tall glass of ice tea as I talk to Stryker. I’d prefer to be nursing something stronger in my glass, but I promised myself I wouldn’t drink myself into a stupor like I did last night.

“She’s in a high level of shock, and you won’t be doing her any favors if you step in and force yourself on her,” Stryker warns. I lay my head back, resting it against the swing, and close my eyes as Stryker continues drilling into me all of his psychobabble bullshit of why I should do things his way in regards to getting Jules to come around.

“I feel like I’m in a no-win situation here, and it’s driving me nuts. If I give her space to breathe, Stryker, I just know she’s going to run the other way.”

“Do you hold that little amount of faith for what the two of you built at the cabin? I’ve seen the looks she gives you when you’re not looking. It’s evident she’s fallen for you.”

“She doesn’t take being lied to very well, and I can hardly blame her. If she can’t feel she can trust me, we have nothing. I’ve told her some pretty big doozies, and I’ve run out of excuses and white lies to placate her.” I rub the back of my neck and sigh in defeat. “She’s at her breaking point; I can feel it, and I can’t give her the answers she wants right now, especially when I don’t have most of them myself.”

“Her head may be telling her to leave, but her heart can’t let you go,” Stryker insists. “She’s confused, and you have to understand both the mental and physical traumas she’s incurred, and how they relate to her psychological state. She’s highly fragile, Trav, and I'd venture to say she's damn near psychopathic. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you what it was like when you had your first kill, do I?”

“Oh, I remember it, but I didn’t make myself an island, shutting everyone out.”

Stryker scoffs aloud, and I pull my gaze away from the edge of the darkened property line to look at him with narrowed eyes. “Mind telling me what you find so funny?”

“You’ve got one thick head, buddy. Look over your hard-headedness for a minute, will you? Not everyone can bounce back from traumatic shit like you, and not everyone handles stress in the same manner as you do. You keep forgetting there are multiple factors at play here.” He shakes his head at me, irritated he has to lay it out for me as his voice rises in frustration. “Besides the fact she’s a female, her brain isn’t operating on all four cylinders. Do I really have to reiterate everything Grant told you in regards to her head trauma?”

He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs, locking his eyes with mine as he tries to drive home his point with a heated tone. “All the behavioral fluctuations she’s been experiencing is to be expected, Travis. It’s not like she has control over this…control over the speed of her mental and physical healing. You know damn well there are medically proven negative side effects related to what she’s been through that can lead to a psychosis in the blink of an eye.”

“No, I don’t need a recap,” I gruffly state, “nor do I need you giving me a lecture on all this shit.”

“Apparently you need some sort of reminder, Trav, because you’re acting like a lovesick fool. I never really understood that term before, until now,” he says, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. “I think you’ve lost more than your sanity when you decided to fall head-over-heels for this girl. I believe you lost a chunk of your brain in the process.”

“Fuck you.”

Stryker half-laughs at me. “I have
never
seen you this tied up in a knot over a woman since Clarissa. You went off half-cocked, running wild with your emotions on this one, and that is not the Travis I know. Hell, I didn’t think Stonewall had any emotions left.

“Fuck off, Stryker,” I warn. “I’ve got my shit together, and I’m in control of myself. I know what I’m doing.”

Stryker breaks out in a set of deep, low-sounding chuckles. “You
think
you’re in control. This girl has you all fucked up, which surprises the hell out of me, because even when you had Clarissa, you were in control of your emotions. You were still the notoriously badass Stonewall Jackson everyone knew you to be, but this,” he shakes his head, “this takes the cake, and I don’t need to remind you what happens when you let your emotions take the driver’s seat.”

“I’m still the same calculating and measured man who can think five steps ahead of everyone else.” I glare at Stryker, ready for him to get off my case. “Contrary to popular belief, I have thought of every angle possible and then some for my decisions. Granted, I did most of this last minute, flying by the seat of my pants, but I still had a formulated plan. I’m sure right now it looks as if I’m coming off as the lovesick fool you say I am, but all I’m trying to do here is help ease her pain.”

“Nothing is gonna ease her pain, buddy.” Stryker begins ticking off all the crazy shit that’s happened to Jules while being under my care. “She’s had head trauma, wound up with amnesia, and then she killed another human being, was kidnapped twice by sex traffickers, and in her mind, she’s
your
captive this go ‘round. Of course it doesn’t help matters when she finds out the love of her life up and remarried within a month of her disappearance.” His eyes narrow on mine as he lowers his voice, “That is one motherfucker of a pill to swallow.”

My nostrils flare in anger as I growl at him through clenched teeth, “Don’t you think I know she’s going to be haunted for the rest of her life? I’m the love of her life, dammit! She needs
me
; I can help heal her.”

Stryker bursts out in sardonic laughter. “It’s not about you! You impulsive jackass, none of this is about you. Are you that fucking dense? We just went over all this shit yesterday, and nothing has sunk in.”

My hands ball into fists, and I’m seconds away from jumping up off this porch swing to pummel his face into the wooden deck. Stryker raises his hand in defense, probably hoping to God I don’t punch the shit out of him, because he knows I can deliver a blow that will knock him out for the rest of the night.

“You’re a trained killer, Trav; all of us here are. It’s our second nature to kill and not look back. Even though we did train her, it was quick and dirty, and you know it. She wasn’t mentally strong then, and she’s not now. She shouldn’t be making any decisions right now, and the least you can do is give her the space she needs to breathe. She needs space.”

I spread my fingers wide and shake out my hands, trying to calm down. “I comprehend and recognize her situations for what they are, but I know her, goddammit. I know how she operates. If she gets too much quiet time on her hands, she might have the penchant to stew on it and begin to develop a mental illness. Depression sucks, man. That shit runs deep, and it not only steals your optimism, but it fucking obliterates it. It will drive a knife into my gut if I see that happen to her.”

“I get it. I know where you’re coming from,” Stryker agrees, “and I know you don’t want history to repeat itself, and neither do I. She’s not Clarissa, and I think she’s stronger than that. None of us here want to see her spiral down into the abyss of a depressive episode, but I think because you’re hypersensitive to her situation, you’re being too overbearing.”

He’s most likely right. Surprisingly, she’s taken to Quinn, and truth be told, I was shocked to see it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a soft side to that man, but I think he’s helped calm her quite a bit. He told me earlier he felt like he got through to her some, talking a bit of sense into her. God, I hope so. I don’t know what I’d do if she were to go off the deep end.

Stryker and I fall silent as I digest our conversation and think about the love of my life. Sometimes, in my head, I can still see her acting out with her quirky antics, and I laugh to myself when I think of all those crazy things that transpired at the cabin. I think about the palmetto bug episode, to gluten-free catastrophes I barely evaded. I’m trying my damnedest to understand her, but I’m failing miserably.