Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) (20 page)

Britney’s hands clamped onto her womanly hips. “Whatever, I don’t think we need relationship advice from Mr. Celibate.”

Yori gripped Britney’s arm. “Come on, Brit. Let’s go. If Zane needs some alone time, we should respect that.”

She shook off Yori’s hand. “I don’t have ta do any such thang.” Her southern drawl came out in full when she was pissed.

I stepped onto the front porch and closed the door. “Well, then maybe he won’t be coming back. Is that what you want, Britney?”

“Is he really that worn down?” She drawled “really” like she still didn’t believe the truth.

“Yes,” I said with no room for questions. “I think you two need to find other ways to spend some of your free time—an entertaining hobby like gardening, knitting, reading, whatever, just give something else a try. Please. I understand what sex can add to a relationship, but there are diminishing benefits when it’s
only
sex, and sex is
never
a competition.” I thought of how I’d want to be treated, if I were in Zane’s shoes. “It’s a connection to be savored in the moment, not for a just moment. Have a good day, ladies.”

I turned and stepped back inside. Before I could close the door, Britney stuck her boot in the doorway.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But he doesn’t come back by dinner and I’m kicking down the door.”

“I wouldn’t expect less from those shit-kickers, Britney.”

“I’m sorry I called you Mr. Celibate.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But I was worried about Zane. Sorry I took it out on you.” Pools of tears formed in the badass country girl’s eyes.

I stepped back onto the porch and pulled her into a hug. “Hey, he’ll be fine. He loves you both, just return the sentiment with a little more listening to how he’s actually doing.”

She nodded into my shoulder.

Yori smiled at me behind Britney’s back and mouthed, “Thank you.”

I mouthed, “You’re welcome” back.

I watched as they left and made their side of the duplex.

What a situation. Of course my brother could fall in love with two women.

I chuckled and returned inside. Resting on the couch, I scanned a magazine, but in a few minutes, I was deep in an afternoon nap. My phone alarm buzzed on the coffee table, waking me from my dreams about tonight. They were good dreams, none involving my motorcycle, but that was a dream I would love to make a reality.

I woke Zane and he rolled to his feet, his eyes much clearer and his stance stronger.

Walking him to the door, I told him what happened. “Your ladies showed up. I gave them a little speech. I don’t think you’ll have any problems talking to them and them listening now.”

“I told you, and thanks. And hey, my balls say thank you too.”

****

Two Fine Irishmen was busy. My body stayed active but my brain was elsewhere. I took some time to send Presley a couple of texts to let her know I was thinking about her, but I didn’t continue the possibly annoying countdown.

Jude:
How are you doing this evening?

Presley:
Good. And you?

Jude:
Only thinking about you.

Presley:
Awww. Thanks, Ponytail

If today had taught me anything, it was that sex wasn’t what really mattered. It was good communication.
And having a hobby or some outside interests.

A couple hours later I received…

Presley:
I’m all ready for you. Counting down the seconds here … 5321 … 5320 … 5319 … :-)

I was a little busy and it took some time for me to get back to her.

Jude:
Good to hear, can’t wait. Thanks for the countdown update. Should be there soon.

Without a band, the crowd thinned after midnight. Sage hit the stage and sang a couple of songs. She had an incredible voice and it always seemed to me like she was singing to someone in the crowd. I watched her closely but I didn’t see her concentrate on anyone in particular, but then again the Ogre wasn’t here. I suspected Rahl was her muse.

Sam gave me the nod that my time was done. No use paying three bartenders and I didn’t blame him. I was totally fine with being the one he was letting go early.

I finished up washing pints and sent Presley one final text to let her know I was on my way. I ran to my truck.

Five minutes was all that stood between me and a beautiful girl.

Chapter Eighteen

I spent some of the day getting prepared. Normal things any woman would do knowing she was going to be hooking up later. I shaved all necessary body parts—legs, pits, and the hoohoo. Ate light—no beans, no cabbage, and no onions—nothing that might offend or cause gas later. Picked out an outfit that was comfortable, but easily removed. Yoga pants and a fitted t-shirt with soft socks worked. Applied minimal makeup. Nothing said
not
sexy
like waking up with raccoon eyes. And finally, I consumed a bit of alcohol—two sweet tart martinis between ten p.m. and midnight. I wanted to be relaxed, not smashed.

At midnight, I realized the two martinis might have been a mistake on the little amount I ate to keep my stomach flat. The second one went to my head. I giggled at the infomercial on TV and couldn’t stop giggling when Kanyon and Willow returned home from their date. Willow seemed concerned, and I explained everything, in way more detail than necessary with Kanyon present. Kanyon chuckled and Willow elbowed him. He coaxed her to see the humor in my situation before they headed off to bed.

By one a.m., I drifted in and out of sleep. I curled up on the sofa and quickly entered an alcohol-laced sleep. My dreams crept up on me.

I was in high school, walking down the hallway being pointed at while horrible names were thrown my way. Someone made cow mooing sounds as I’d walked by. I’d shuffled around the corner of the lockers and my body shook with embarrassment. Waiting in the girls’ bathroom until most of the perpetrators of my pain had left for the afternoon, I walked home or Willow drove me home after she was done with all the extracurricular activities I couldn’t or wouldn’t do for fear of being teased or making a fool of myself.

I’d told myself I wouldn’t eat. I’d just go to bed, sleep off the memories. But once inside the house, and without a second thought, I’d hit the fridge and was halfway through a half-gallon of ice cream before I’d stepped off the linoleum floor. The ever-present regret crashed into me, and I’d run to the bathroom to purge the contents of my stomach, wrenching in tears, remembering all of the cruel words the kids had thrown so carelessly in my face. I’d cried myself to sleep on the floor in front of the toilet, my stomach clenched and my throat burned from the damaging acid.

The dream morphed. I was at Triple R. Emerson was in the locker room. She’d pointed her white-tipped acrylic nail at me while talking to one of her workout friends. They’d both snickered and made gagging sounds as I’d rounded the corner to the shower. After showering, I’d returned to my locker, gathered my items, and carried them into a changing room.

“Do they just let anyone join this gym?” her friend had asked, and Emerson had answered, “The owner took pity on her cause she gave him a good deal on his truck. She’s probably thinking he’d give her more than free lessons. Mitch has to put his hands on her. I bet his amazing cock cringes when he does. You think she ever gets laid?”

Even though I’d tried to fight it, my stomach wrenched and I’d thrown up in the trash can in the changing room. Years of purging taught me how to be silent while I expelled. I’d sat on the dressing room bench and wept until the tears dried onto my cheeks, only leaving Triple R after I was sure the other girls had left the locker room.

I faintly heard something foreign in my dream. My eyes flashed open, and I grabbed my phone from the coffee table.

Jude:
On my way, Beautiful.

The doorbell rang. My legs were moving but my body floated inside a dream. My hands dripped with sweat while my heart pounded until the vein in my neck thumped against my skin. Opening the door with a trembling hand, I held the other hand up to stop him from entering.

“Shit! Presley, what’s wrong?”

“I … I can’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He started to move in the house, but I shook my head violently. He stopped. His eyes searched my face for the answers that I wasn’t going to give him. Answers I couldn’t even put into words.

His voice was smooth and calm. “Presley, we can just talk. Please, let me come in.” He reached for me and I shuffled back. “Please, Beautiful.” His requests sent my heart into a frantic rhythm.

“No, you … you don’t belong with me. You belong with someone like Emerson, someone who looks like you do, someone who will always be the same.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? I don’t want Emerson. I want you, Presley. I don’t care if we don’t have sex. Just talk to me, Beautiful.”

I’m not beautiful!

“No. No!” I yelled, and Jude flinched. “I don’t want to see you. I can’t…” The tears rolled as my breathing constricted to choppy gasps. “Please, just leave.”

Arms wrapped around me from behind. “Prez, come on, sweetie. Let’s get you to bed.”

Thank God, Willow.

My legs started to collapse as she rounded my waist with her comforting hold.

“Jude, I’ve got her.”

“Please, let me help. Willow, please.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t. Good night, Jude.”

We passed Kanyon on the way to my bedroom, and Willow said something I didn’t actually hear through my wailing. She sat with me while I cried, reliving my dreams. She told me everything would be okay. I didn’t believe her.

I was messed up. Again. I didn’t mess up. I
was
messed up. Years of social failure and body image issues, and just being me, had led to this moment. The moment I turned away a great guy and told him to his face that I wasn’t good enough for him. But maybe he would have found out for himself?

And which situation, I wonder, would be worse? Cause this feels like I’m dying.

Chapter Nineteen

I stood dazed in the doorway while Presley and Willow disappeared down the hallway. Kanyon rounded from the end of the hallway, stopping Willow with a few words, before he strode to me.

“Need a drink?” He clasped my shoulder and I dipped my head, unable to form words. I followed him outside. “Let’s go to my place. I have plenty of beer, tequila, and whiskey.”

“I’ll take all three,” I mumbled as I climbed in my truck.

The drive was a series of flashbacks trying to figure out what had happened. Only a few hours before the massive crash, we were on smooth pavement joking and flirting and out of nowhere came a brick wall of screaming.

“Hey!” Kanyon tapped on my driver’s side window, and I jolted from my daze. “Come inside.”

I didn’t even realize I’d come to a stop in his driveway.

He brought all three alcoholic beverages to the kitchen table. I pointed to the Wild Turkey. He poured a shot. I downed it. The liquor acted as a lighter fluid-like fireball all the way down to my gut. He poured another, and the amber liquid was gone as quickly. He started to pour a third, but instead he stood, found an actual glass tumbler, and filled it.

“If you’re gonna make me play bartender all night, we’re gonna cut to the chase.”

“Ice?” It was the first word uttered since I left Presley’s.

He harrumphed. “Prima donna?”

“Your whiskey sucks, needs to be cold to dull the pain … in my throat and my head. Ever heard of the term ‘top-shelf’?”

Kanyon chuckled and collected three ice cubes from his freezer, plopping each one in my glass ceremoniously as the liquid rose to the top. I flipped him off as it teetered at the rim.

“Wow, never seen Ponytail have his boxers all in a wad. Wanna explain that whole spectacle to me?” Kanyon opened a beer and swigged a large gulp.

“I am fucking clueless.”

Silence.

“Jude…”

“I really can’t even think right now.”

“Okay.”

Instead of talking, we drank. Him, in support. Me, to dull the volcano of emotions. Confusion. Why? Valid concern. Is she okay? A little hurt. What did I do or what didn’t I do? Reasonably heavyhearted. What could I have done differently? And somewhat pissed. Why isn’t what I’ve done enough to show her who I really am?

Kanyon’s phone rang “Black Sheep” by Gin Wigmore and I had to smile a little at his choice for Willow.

“Hey, Willow.” His eyes looked everywhere but at me. “She gonna be okay?” His body language gave nothing away. “Okay. See you tomorrow? I think he’s okay. We’re having a couple of drinks at my house. I’ll put him up here for the night. Yeah, me too. Good night, Gorgeous.”

“Well?” I asked with enough attitude that I wanted to slap myself.

“Presley fell asleep.”

“And?” The word still held a dick-like vibe.

“And Willow’s worried.”

I slammed back the rest of the liquor in the glass. “Makes two…” I looked at him. He nodded. “I guess three of us.”

Kanyon passed the liquor bottle to me. “That girl has something she’s not over. The way she was screaming, that was something else. Willow couldn’t get dressed and move fast enough from the bedroom. I could tell her concern wasn’t just for Presley. I think she was worried for you, too.”

“Again, that makes three of us. I wish I knew what happened.” I poured more liquid fire in my glass. “We had a great night last night. She asked me to come over after work. I would have been fine even if we didn’t have sex but she was damn clear I wasn’t getting anywhere near her. She looked like a beaten and cornered dog and for some reason I felt like I was holding the weapon that inflicted her pain.”

“Willow admitted last night that she was waiting for Presley to crack,” Kanyon said quietly.

“Because?”

“Jude, come on! Even girls who have had high self-esteem from day one of their lives probably have problems believing they’re good enough for what you have been blessed with. Good looks, gentlemen-like class, you dance like a girl’s wet dream and you’re interesting to talk to. Bastard.”

“So what? I’m not supposed to shower for days, start calling every woman bitch, slut, and ho, never enjoy myself on the dance floor again, and pretend to be a dick just to fit the mold of every other asshole from Presley’s past?”

Kanyon laughed. “No. I’m saying it’s going to take patience. However, patience isn’t your thing. Noticed that the first time you came into the store and walked right to the Panigale S. Have you two done anything besides kissing?”

My jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“Now, I can see that gentlemanly ‘I don’t kiss and tell’ attitude coming out in that short answer. Here’s the deal. You can either elaborate or we can call it a night ‘cause I could give a fuck less if you ever get some from Presley or anyone else. But since I think you genuinely like her, I’m trying to help. What’s it gonna be, Ponytail?”

“We sexted to completion,” I admitted. Kanyon smirked and I grimaced. “I got her off at Triple R.” I held up my hand, Kanyon grimaced. “And last night we made out pretty hot and heavy in my truck.”

“All clothes on, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You really like her?”

“I do.”

“Then you need to try everything to have patience, ‘cause she’s afraid to show you her body.”

“That’s crazy. She has a great body.” I refilled my glass and sucked down a big gulp.

“But what if she didn’t? Willow told me about Presley’s efforts to get healthy. What if she still thinks of herself the way she used to be?”

“I wouldn’t care. I like her for more than her…”

Then I remembered all of her words last night, her adamant speech about how she’d still like and want me if I changed. And then how I didn’t say the same to her. If anything I said the opposite. I told her she had a rockin’ body, not that I’d still want and like her if she didn’t.

“She’s worried she’ll return to the way she was before and I’ll leave her,” I said. Presley’s fears rolled through me, and the feeling wasn’t enjoyable.

“Probably. She’s not exactly comfortable in her own skin yet.” Kanyon blew out a big breath. “I can read people pretty damn well. I’d bet a case of craft beer she was treated like shit by lots of people in her life, maybe used by her parents, maybe teased or tortured at school, maybe shit on by past boyfriends. If you have the patience to stick it out and you can get through to her, she’ll be yours forever, Ponytail.”

Forever? With Presley?

I pulled out my phone.

Jude:
I’m not giving up on you, Beautiful. I’m here for you when you are ready to talk.

I showed the text to Kanyon and he gave the acceptable nod. I hit send, then picked up my glass and chugged the rest of its contents.

“I need some sleep. Where’s this bed you were talking about to Willow?” I slurred every word in the sentence as the whiskey irrevocably numbed my brain.

He motioned with his head. “You’re looking at it.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the couch. “Great.”

“Hey, it’s a lot more comfortable than you’re imagining. Or I could call you a cab and you can pay through the nose to get home. Which will it be?”

“I think I’ll need another shot so I pass out.”

“I think you’re done if you want to be in any sort of shape to see Presley tomorrow.”

I relented, stumbled to the sofa, and smacked down face-first onto what was actually very comfortable.

“Good night, Ponytail.” Kanyon said, throwing a blanket over me.

“Stop calling me Ponytail! That’s only for Presley.”

Kanyon chuckled. “Okay. Fair enough. Good night, Saylor.”

“Night, Hills.”