Off Her Rockers (Loving All Wrong #3.5) (22 page)

I rubbed my temples with my fingertips, wishing I could tap my heels and disappear. Sometimes the drama became so much it felt like it was pressing me in on every side. “What is it, Jess?”

Center-part auburn hair flowing down on either side of her face, and small green eyes full of apology, she resembled the Jess I’d come to know and like pre broken engagement. Not the bitchy redhead who shared me a steaming dish of cattiness outside of Xavier’s bar.

“I’m embarrassed for the person I became after Davi left me. I’d felt so hurt and betrayed, and all that pain morphed into anger. The interview, what I said to you that night…I have no idea who that person was.”

Eyes avoiding mine, she twisted her fingers together. “I lied. Xavi never touched me. He’s my best friend, he knows me as well as I know him. After you left him and I tried to get with him, he told me he didn’t love me like that and he never would. And then we just laughed about it because…although I used to be obsessed with Xavi at one point…since I met Davi…”—heavy sigh—“I love Davian so much it hurt, Alina. And I knew Xavi would never make me as happy as Davi did.”

She raised her head, finally meeting my eyes. “He came up with a plan, to speed up the process of finishing his bar and name it after you. He thought if you saw it, you would snap out of your ‘snit’ and come back. Yes, he used the word ‘snit’ because at that point I don’t think he took the break-up seriously.

“However, when I saw you outside the bar, I got so angry all over again I don’t know what came over me. I sent his plan to shit with my lies. When he found out what I did he cut me off. He hasn’t spoken to me since. And now he’s hitting rock bottom and it’s all my fault.”

She was close to tears now. “I feel
so
bad, Alina. Davi has forgiven me, and I’ve forgiven both of you for lying and cheating. I really hope you can forgive me and we can put this behind us.”

Put it behind us
. She made it sound so simple. Wringing her neck seemed a lot simpler.

On the one hand, I wanted to tell her to go hang herself, but on the other hand, I wanted to have something good to brag about to my silver-haired therapist tomorrow, so she can write me down for showing signs of improvement.

Releasing the tension and exhaustion from all the hate and grudges in one long sigh, I stepped in and half-heartedly circled my arms around her.

Jess released a relieving sigh, then tipped up and pressed her lips smack against mine.

I drew back.

She smirked.

Yep, she was back.

Sure, she was forgiven, but I didn’t trust her. What she didn’t know was that I’d overheard her conversation with Davian in the kitchen earlier. She’d sounded like she resented me. Loathed me with every fiber of her being for the unchanging fact that she would always be second to me in Davian’s life.

How could I trust her knowing she knew and had to accept that? How could I trust that she wouldn’t set me up for the worst or try to poison me or something?

Yes, I forgave her, but I would never call her friend.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

I
WOKE TO A SHRILLING SOUND
.

The receiver.

A quick glance at the bedside clock told me it was 3:05 am. An ungodly hour for the concierge to be calling me. Unless it was some kind of emergency?

I stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

After the birthday party earlier, I’d stuck around to help Davian clean up before heading home. By the time I got in, I was so exhausted I fell instantly asleep.

I grumbled miserably as the shrill continued, piercing through the
AM
silence of the apartment.

“This better be
really
important,” I growled into the receiver.

“Miss O’Hara, I apologize profusely for waking you at this hour,” said the concierge, “but there are some residents down here who have been trying to get up to their floors. It appears the elevator is stuck…on your floor. Do you mind checking to see what the problem is?”

“Hang on a sec.” Setting the receiver down with a yawn, I dragged my feet through the apartment to the entryway.

All the drowsiness fled and my eyes blew wide at the sight in the elevator. Xavier. Slumped on his ass and passed out with an empty Grey Goose bottle in his lap, back against the back wall, feet spread out—and those thick, long, powerful legs were the culprit preventing the elevator from closing. Each time the doors tried to close, they met resistance with his feet and retreated.

Padding back to the receiver, I told the concierge through another sigh, “Yeah, the problem is here. I’ll sort it out.”

“Okay, great! Thank you, Miss O’Hara.”

I hung up and trekked to the elevator once more. Heaving out
yet
another sigh, I fixed my hands on my hips and cocked my head, contemplating the most efficient way to get this six-foot-five man out of the elevator so the other residents could use it.

But seriously, had he been so damn drunk that he couldn’t have taken the two steps it required to get out of the frickin’ elevator?

Stepping over his legs, I shuffled in and crouched by his side. Even stupefied drunk and unconscious, he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Light but firm, I tapped his face. “Xavi.”

Nothing.

Tap. Tap.
“Xavi, wake up.”

Nothing.

I slapped his face, hard, and
I
winced at the sound that echoed from the impact. All that got me was a mild groan as his body slumped further down the wall.

He was a consciously dead man. Those eyes wouldn’t be opening until some of that alcohol wore out of his system. I was on my own with this one.

Once again, I cocked my head and contemplated the situation some more. If I dragged him out by his feet, his head would slam to the ground after losing the support of the wall, and the last thing I wanted was to give this already troubled rock star a concussion.

I would have to get him away from the wall and to the ground first before attempting to drag him out.

Removing the liquor bottle from his lap, I set it aside. Locking my arms around his torso, I let out a huff as I shifted him from the wall. Slowly and with great effort, I twisted both our bodies to the left, aiming for ground space to lay him on. Mind you, this took some time, because moving a man Xavier’s size was no walk in the park.

When I finally had his upper half on the ground, his big body twisted awkwardly to the left, his legs sticking out straight, I stood and blew out a breath, brushing loose locks of hair behind my ears.

Stepping out of the elevator, I bent at the waist and wrapped my fingers around his ankles, and, after counting to three, I hauled.

Xavier’s arms flopped to his side, head hung to the left of his shoulders, blond waves mopping the floor as I hauled and hauled until he was completely out.

As if rejoicing, the elevator doors immediately swooshed closed.

I dropped Xavier’s feet with a thud and heaved out a ragged breath. Well, wasn’t that an early morning workout.

Depleted of energy, I couldn’t be bothered to haul him further into the apartment, so he would be camping out right where he was until he regained consciousness.

Ambling back to my room, I climbed in bed and tried to fall back asleep, but it wasn’t happening. Not while Xavier was out in my foyer. Not when I was aching for him. Not when every part of me was begging to go out there and stretch out on top of him, bring him back to life like Elijah did with that dead kid in the bible.

The thing was, we were over, so I was wary of how things would play out when he woke up tomorrow, sober, and found himself in my apartment.

Though, if I was careful, I
could
take advantage of his unconscious state and steal one last moment with him. Just for a few hours. If I was mindful not to let his heartbeat lull me to sleep, I could totally steal some time with him.

Clambering out of bed, I yanked off the comforter, snagged two pillows, and waddled out to the foyer.

Xavier was the same as I’d left him. Hadn’t moved an inch. Dead to the world.

I spread the comforter out beside him, and then stuffed one of the pillows under his head as best as I could to prevent any neck pains when he woke up.

Stretching out on the comforter beside him, I threw my left leg across his hips, propped my chin on his shoulder, and stared. I trailed the tips of my fingers along his sharp jaw line, outlined his lips, smoothed his eyebrows, kissed his Adam’s apple…

I molested him, worshiped him, got drunk on him, prayed to him…until sleep came knocking again.

A felicitous smile tugged up my lips as I laid my head on his chest. A few hours. Just a few hours…

It wasn’t the stinging rays of sunlight penetrating through the apartment windows that woke me, but an urgent, hurrying thought:
Get up. Now! Quick before he wakes.

I was wrapped around Xavier like a vine, his heartbeat uneven, his breathing deep and ponderous.

Thankful he hadn’t woken up before me, I gingerly removed my leg from around him. I moved my arms next, carefully inching away until our bodies were no longer touching. As I made to creep away, something locked around my middle and yanked me back to the ground, drawing me into a hard, wonderful warmth.

Holy shiznit
.
I knew this was a bad idea
. How could I have fooled myself I wouldn’t fall asleep lying on Xavier’s chest?

“Tell me I’m hallucinating,” came his deep, soul-melting voice.

“You’re hallucinating,” I quickly agreed.

I tried to move again. I failed.

His arms didn’t budge. “Feels damn real to me.”

“Hallucinations usually do.”

He moved, rolled me onto my back, and pinned me down, torso to torso. Judging by the sharpness of his eyes and the lucidity of his speech, he’d been awake for a while.

Stupid, stupid me
.

He stared down at me, searching. “You came back.”

I couldn’t help the arching of my eyebrow. “Uh,
no
. You passed out in my elevator.”

He frowned, deep, as if trying to remember the events of the night before. Abruptly, he released me. He drew back. Pushed up on his knees. Scrubbed his hands down his face. “Sorry. I didn’t…shit. Sorry, Chino.”

Getting to his feet, he looked around, gaze lingering a long time on the pillows and the comforter. He seemed stuck in a limbo with a devastating downturn of his eyebrows. Apologizing once more, he stepped around me and plowed downtrodden steps toward the elevator.

Seeking fortitude, I clutched one of the pillows and pushed up onto my knees, my heart splintering piece by piece as I watched him stride in.

Fingernails digging into the supple softness of the pillow, I struggled to find the words to stop him. I didn’t want him to leave, but I was honest-to-God tired of being the one to fight for my relationships. No one believed I was worth fighting for? Two years ago, Davian didn’t. Now here Xavier was,
walking away
.

He never thought I was worth chasing when I left him. No, he’d waited for
me
to come back. Why?
Why
?

Why couldn’t he have been different and fight?

Head hung low, eyes to the ground, he hit the down button, and with each second I waited for the door to close, my heart pounded hard, harder, and even harder. Somehow, I knew this would be the
real
end. This was the one chance we had left to either say “goodbye” or “welcome back”.

As the doors began to close, I gave up strangling the innocent pillow and my mouth managed to form the words, “Xavi…”—His head snapped up as if he’d been waiting, hoping, praying I’d stop him—“…don’t go.”