Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) (7 page)

Little clouds of dust poof at my feet with each step. The wind whips loose strands of my hair around my face. I keep running. One foot, then the other. I push myself hard. The pain in my muscles keeps me focused. I push aside the pain and sprint through it. I zone out to the sounds blasting in my ears and breathe harder with each step forward. With a mile left to get back home, I can't physically push myself any harder. My legs are jelly and I’m heaving for air. I stop and brace myself, my hands on my knees, and try to catch my breath. His lips. His arms. His smell. The copper flecks in his eyes. The way his voice made me shiver. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and let myself scream as loud as I can. These are the moments when drinking is better than thinking. I sink to the ground. My legs completely giving up on me. I have blisters on the bottoms of my feet that hurt from being rubbed raw in my sneakers but I didn't have any Band-Aids at home so I’d figured it wouldn't be that bad. I was wrong.

“Need a lift?” I pick my head up and eye the trailer park dude from the other day. His shiny red truck is so high it’s hard to see him from this angle.

“No. I’m fine,” I say defiantly. He keeps finding me at my worst. What is up with that? I blow a stray piece of hair out of my face and hobble up to a standing position.

“It’s just a ride. You look sore.” His smooth but raspy voice drifts out the window.

“I know it’s just a ride. I just don't want one,” I snap.

“What’s your story?”

“I don't have one. Stop asking questions!” I huff irritated.

“Sorry, princess, it’s just you seem beaten down, but I can tell you’re a fighter,” he tells me. The only thing I’ve felt like is a victim. Where does he see a fighter? My grief fades just a little at his observation, replaced with something I can't quite put my finger on.

“The fighter in me wants you to
eff off,” I clip.

“Whatever the princess wants then,” he cackles, and peels off leaving me in a cloud of dirty dust. It’s gritty on my tongue and I immediately spit the saliva and dirt mixture onto the ground. I limp slowly the mile back to the house. According to my iPod, I ran five miles and walked one. I think the most I’ve ever accomplished in my lifetime is two miles for gym class. No wonder I feel like I’ve been beaten to a pulp. I flop down into the Adirondack chair outside my house and let my body go slack. The sky is slowly getting darker and darker, becoming inky and backlit with stars. It’s amazing how many stars you can see here. It was nothing like this at home. I wander inside and get myself a large glass of ice water and a sweatshirt. I pull the elastic from my hair and find a granola bar for dinner. I take it all outside and return to my seated spot under the night sky. Will I ever feel normal again? All I feel is a dead heart, sorrow and...

“Pretty, isn't it?” He appears out of nowhere. I squeal and jump, clutching my chest and spilling my water down my front. He sits in the chair next to me and laughs.
Laughs!

“What the fuck!” I spit out while wiping water from myself.

“Sorry,” he rumbles.

“Leave!” I bark.

“No.”

“Who the hell are you?” I ask exasperated.

“Bentley,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Alright, Bentley, get the hell off my property,” I grind out.

“I like you,” he says, ignoring me.

“I don't feel the same. Now leave,” I grit, completely irritated.

“Nope. Now be quiet and look up,” he says, tilting his head up and settling into one of my chairs. I wrinkle my nose at him and stomp into my trailer, slamming the door behind me.
Who the hell does this guy think he is anyways?

“Got any beer in there?” I hear him holler through the open kitchen window. Seriously? I grab a beer from the fridge, storm to the door, shoving it open and chuck the glass bottle at him. The son of a bitch actually catches it.
Catches it!
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.

“Thanks. Now, come sit. I promise you don't have to talk. Just sit and enjoy the night,” he says calmly, as if this isn't the strangest encounter ever. I retreat into the house and get myself
another
water. I take a couple of big gulps and shake my head at the craziness of the stranger sitting outside. Why won't he leave? He seems so determined to be involved in my life, but why? I’m lonely again tonight, though. I can feel it like a knot in my side, so I take my water outside and sit in the empty chair next to him. The loneliness I feel day after day has been crushing. Out of the corner of my eye I see him smile but he says nothing and I refuse to acknowledge him. We sit in silence, side by side and enjoy the skyline until he gets up an hour later and leaves. No goodbye, no ceremony, just...walks away into the night leaving me once again trapped in my mind.

It’s Wednesday and I am nervous as shit. I can’t seem to make myself step through the entrance to the bar. I want to. I’ve been sober. I’ve made a little place to live in. I kinda even made a friend. Well maybe not, but Bentley is social contact so for now I think that counts. My silence in life is deafening most days. I choose not to say much. I can, I just don't. I’m just about to push the door open when it swings open and is instantly filled with a large black ominous shadow.

“Well look at you!” he booms enthusiastically. I take a step backwards as he comes towards me.

“Brock, right?” I ask.

“Yup, and girl, we had a bet
goin' here that you wouldn't be back,” he chuckles at me.

“So, who won?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I did of course! I don’t make bets I intend on losing. Now come on...let’s go let Penny know you showed.” He smiles and gestures for me to come in. I draw in the biggest breath I can and follow his lead for the second time.

Penny throws me a pair of black shorts and a tank top with Mack’s logo on it and instructs me to change in the employee bathroom before we go any further. My sneakers look kinda ridiculous with my outfit but I’m sure my feet will thank me later when my shift is over. I’m anxious as I follow Penny around. I try desperately to memorize the words coming out of her mouth so I don't mess up tonight, but all I can seem to focus on is the fact that there will be a crowd and undoubtedly I will be touched at some point. The thought of it alone sends me spiraling out of control. I stop, placing my hands flat on the bar and count. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe.

“Magnolia. Keep up,” Penny chides, staring at me strangely. Her face registers something and softens suddenly. She takes four steps back to me and points towards her office while nodding at Brock to do something. I make the walk back down the hallway and into her office and wait.

“Panic attack?” she questions as soon as we’re both in her office.

“Uh, what?”

“Back there at the bar. Do. You. Have. Panic. Attacks?” her words come out staccato for effect.

“Oh. You noticed. Sorry. I promise it won't happen again,” I offer. She sighs and rakes her gaze over me before pushing her glasses an inch up the bridge of her nose.

“Tell me what the trigger is. Maybe we can have you do alternative tasks. Work around it,” she prompts.

“Contact,” I whisper. “I don’t want people touching me. I don’t like contact.” I give up on an exhale. She nods and shifts her wei
ght from one foot to the other.

“Magnolia, this is a bar and dance club. Men will leer. They might try and touch you as well. It’s your job to look good. Tips are better when you look good and flirt. Brock is here to make sure no one, and I mean no one, does anything to you that you
aren’t comfortable with,” she finishes, crossing her arms over her chest. I remain silent. This was a stupid idea, of course I can’t do this job. “Do you understand?” she clips.

“I think maybe this is a mistake. I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut and press the heels of my hands to them. The pressure feels good.
He
always did that. I drop my hands to my sides.

“No, honey, I have a feeling this is exactly what you need. Let’s get back out there and I’ll finish showing you the ropes.”

Chapter 6

It’s a Thursday night two weeks into my job at the club and my stupid piece of shit land yacht has decided to bail on me on my way home from the club. I’m two miles from the trailer park, sitting in the car that decided to just die on the side of the pitch black road, and cussing like a sailor. I am exhausted from my shift. I don’t sleep enough in general and by the time I get home from my shift and relax it’s almost sunrise anyways. It’s messing with my head and I know I need to find that routine of sorts. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks but I’m doing everything humanly possible to not let that first tear fall.

I swing the door open, pull the release lever for the hood, climb out of the car flashlight in hand, and stare at the engine. I have no idea what’s wrong with it. I know virtually nothing about cars. I pull the elastic from my hair and let my long black locks tumble freely down my back before I kick the tire. Headlights shine off in the distance and my spirits perk up a bit. A big truck comes into view and my perkiness instantly goes away. That stupid neighbor, Bentley. The truck slows to a stop next to me, and the window scrolls down revealing Bentley’s horribly handsome face. Somehow he manages to irk me and intrigue me simultaneously.

“Hey there!” he booms over the music from the cab. I cross my arms over my chest and straighten my shoulders.

“Hey,” I clip, hoping for indifference.

“Get in. I’ll give you a lift,” he says.

“No thanks.” I scrunch my nose up at him.

“Jesus, it’s not safe out this time of night, just get in, Magnolia,” he grumbles.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl,” I quip.

“What do I have to do to change your mind?” he asks, seeming genuinely concerned. I really am not in the mood for him. I just want to lock up the car and start
walking. I’ll deal with the stupid P.O.S. tomorrow. I’m grumpy and tired and generally lacking the ability to be nice.

“Listen up, cowboy, I don't need my mind changed. I’m perfectly fine the way things are and you don't know a damned thing about me so if you don't mind, I really need to get home. Goodbye.” I grab my purse from the car and lock the doors before slamming the hood shut and start walking.

“Princess, get in the truck, I’ll give you a lift,” he calls.

“No!” I shout over my shoulder, and keep walking.

“What’s a man gotta do for a date with you?” he shouts back.
Oh my God? Really!

“For starters use proper grammar!” I don't look back as I keep walking, but I swear I hear him busting a gut laughing which irritates me even more as I boil with anger. As I stomp my way home, Bentley’s truck speeds past me until it’s out of sight. As soon as I can’t see the taillights anymore, I relax slightly. It’s so dark out here and unlike home there are no street lights brightening the road. I sigh and wrap my arms around myself and keep walking.

I’d been on edge all day from our fight the night before. Cane had peeled out of my driveway after I’d stormed out of his car and into my house. Aster handed me some peanut M&M’s. I popped two in my mouth and crunched down on them. “God, these are good,” I groaned.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I only let myself have two,” Aster grumbled.

“Oh come on. You can’t live like that, Aster. Eat the damn candy.”

“You don't have to count calories, Cy. You can eat whatever you want and still look like that!” she stressed, pointing to my waist. I popped two more delicious candies into my mouth and stared out the window.

“You okay?” Aster asked.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’m just confused.” Aster gave me a sad smile and did what any cousin/best friend would do, she handed me the rest of the bag of M&M’s. Why were boys so complicated? One second they’re showering you with love and the next they’re flirting with someone else and talking shit with their buddies.

He looked beautiful. A beautiful mess. His jeans hung from his narrow hips and his shirt clung to the ridges in his stomach and the bulges in his arms. I want to go to him, to hold him. I want to not be fighting. My pride holds me back though, and I stand unmoving at the bottom of my porch steps staring dumbly at him. Luckily, Cane didn't give me a chance to work through any of my thoughts. In three strides he was off the porch and in my face. “I don't exist without you. Please,
Mags, forgive me. I was a total dick and I’m sorry.”

My heart thumped in my chest. I knew I should put up more of a fight, but his eyes, his words, they all pointed to him being honest with me right now. I just needed to be brave and say this.

“I’m not a doormat, Cane. I’m not a gym junkie, and...and I’m not hard like the other people you’re around. You have to treat me with respect. Always.” He smirked at me as relief washed over his features.

“Come a little closer,
Mags, so we can talk without the words,” he breathed at me as his hand splayed my waist and he tugged me to him. “Your heart is beating really fast,” he said in a low voice.

“I know,” I whispered, just before his mouth collided with mine. And just like that, all was right again with the world. I didn't exist without him either.