Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) Page 16

  “Coffee is ready.” Matthew interrupts our discussion without even checking the coffee pot. My heart stops, as his eyes darken and his smirk widens. He’s brewing something, and it isn’t just the damn coffee.

  After that daring glare Matt sent my way, we stayed on safe topics. Topics that allowed me to think about what Thea proposed: seeing a shrink. I’ve been to several already. Most of the Christian-based counselors my parents sent me to promised the cure to my condition—liking men. One of them called it a phase, a rebellious phase to tick my parents off. Could a new shrink help erase years of guilt and shame? Being comfortable within my own skin—accepting myself. Would I be able to fall in love?

  Looking at Thea I realize that before that will be possible, I have to fall out of love. It feels like a heavy weight is sitting on my chest as I try to solve some kind of puzzle called my love life or the lack of it. My un-fucking-unlucky love life. If I had dared, I would’ve let Matt into my life, but I was too scared. Now I fall for Thea and she’s with him. Putting a stop to loving her is going to be hard when I plan on being whatever she might need. A friend, a shoulder to lean on . . . I’m screwed and not in a good way.

  I hear a chuckle inside my head, because can we really be friends when my hands want to touch her? Friends don’t steal glances, and they don’t seek each other’s arms. Lovers do.

  Lovers. I shift my glance toward Matt who is saying his goodbyes to Thea—leaning forward and touching his lips with hers. Fuck. I miss them—his lips. The taste of him and everything that happened between us. Instead of torturing myself by watching their passionate kiss, I leave the apartment and head downstairs.

  It doesn’t take long for him to join me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” Other than being tortured as you kissed her long and slowly before saying goodbye. The longing of my heart is greater than the confusion of not knowing who I want to be in that moment. Thea receiving a hard, lustful kiss. Or Matthew, who enjoyed her soft silky lips while his mouth made love to her. “She looks fine.”

  “Now. I bet she answered the door with the droopy, my dog died face.” I nod. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but know that she needs to know we care for her. That we love her.”

  “You love her,” I correct him, with a lie. I’m fucked up. Because I’m in love with my ex-lover’s girlfriend. How’s that for fucked up? “She still thinks you have a thing for me.” I step outside and tilt my head for him to follow me. We both walk toward his car. “We had a good run. It’s over, so focus your energy on her—in a positive way. You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

  “I do have a thing for you, but it’s different.” He winks at me, laughing at his own joke. It gets to me that the sound of his laugh has become one of my favorite sounds. Along with Thea’s sweet voice. The way he looks at the world. Matt finds joy in everything. In life itself. Nothing sours his mood, or he hides it well. Damn, I think I’m falling.

  Shit, shit.

  “Tristan, I’ll always be attracted to you.” He rakes his hand through his unruly strands, his eyes running over my body. “The difference between those eight weeks and now is that I no longer see you as the hot guy I can fuck. You’re my friend. I care about you, and that woman right there. The one we both love,” he points toward the bar, “She’s teaching me how to love you. I think I want to set sail with the two of you, hoping the wind takes us to our final destination.”

  My heart stops and my lungs deflate. What the fuck is he thinking? That’s not right, not the way a couple should be. Couples are pairs of two. Maybe I have to take him back to basics and explain how life, mathematics, and society dictate our lives.

  “Count me out of your plans.” I take a step back. “Friendship. That’s all I can offer you and Thea, Matt. There can never be a final destination for the three of us. It's . . . abnormal.” I flinch. Fuck, I sound like my father. “Matt, I was able to fuck you by not letting myself believe.” I don’t finish. “But that’s over and we are both finding our place. Well, you found someone to love. Maybe one day I’ll be as lucky as you and will settle down,” I say, swallowing my feelings and turning back to Thea’s. “Nothing you say will convince me to follow that path.” Then I stop and gather my strength to behave like the asshole he hates. Pivoting, I warn him with my index finger. “Don’t start pushing that agenda on me, Matthew. You might lose her, or worse, this might end up in tragedy. If you love her so much, don’t jeopardize her happiness. Mark my words, three won’t work.”

  “Don’t overthink this, Tristan. At least let it flow while we find out if we belong.” His signature smirk takes over, and I fight between punching him and kissing him. Why isn’t he listening to me? “I can’t predict the future, but I can work for it. I’ve decided to do so. Take care of our girl, babe.”

  I spent my morning with Christian Decker. He called yesterday to ask if I was available today. He wanted to discuss my availability for the next month since he found a place where I can counsel and he can supervise. All was exciting until he said the C word. Children. My kryptonite. I can’t counsel children without wanting to cry along with them, or wanting to take them with me. Give them a safe shelter where their parents, or whoever is in charge, can’t harm them anymore.

  The worry of having to work with young humans busied my mind and exhausted me so much, that last night I let my guard down and told Matt the part of myself I hate. I’m upset at myself for being weak, and at him for calling Tristan. Tristan. Someone who cares for me as much as Matt does, or so Matt argued. Yet, spending the night in Matt’s arms was like spending an afternoon in a hammock on a warm sunny day. Finding Tristan behind the door of my apartment in the morning made my heart rate spike.

  There’s just something about being around the two of them that makes me feel all kinds of things. Cherished, happy, loved, and safe. They have some special gift of knowing exactly what I need, when I need it. In fact, I’m lying to myself each time I say that having Tristan back isn’t necessary. His being here is a blessing after opening that old wound last night. Then there’s the fact that I don’t feel as if I’m deceiving him, as I do with Matt. He has no grudge against my family.

  I hear the powerful rumble of an engine before I open the bar’s door. I turn to find Tristan pulling up into Reed’s parking spot. From where I stand, I can only see his face that wears a big frown. After killing the engine, he gets out of his truck and starts toward me. Just as our eyes meet, that permanent frown erases itself and the mysterious smile that only shows when we’re alone gleams.

  The moment he stops in front of me, my insides become jelly and my girl parts beg for his touch. Shouldn’t this reaction feel so wrong though? I was in Matt’s arms not long ago. Who am I?

  “How was your morning?” He kisses my cheek, then playfully pushes down the flap of my cap. “That baseball cap should be against dress code.” He puts his arm around me, turning me toward the door. “I like when your hair is loose. All those colorful strands doing what Thea does best.”

  “That sounds interesting. What is it that Thea does best?” Amused, I wait for some nonsense. The only thing I do best is hiding and creating big thick layers of lies to protect myself from the past.

  “Letting the wind take you places.”

  I laugh at his nonsense, cherishing one of the few moments when he doesn’t take stuff too seriously. “You make me sound as if I’m made out of paper.” I grin. His tender eyes stare and I wish I was her. A different Thea who goes wherever the wind blows. That kind of woman would enjoy the closeness that we share, the warmth of his arm around me. She’ll be ordinary, as opposed to another child actress gone bad. “You got me confused with some other chick, kind sir.”

  Before Tristan and I can continue the discussion, we find Reed walking toward the restrooms carrying a large toolbox with him and a plunger.

  “What happened?” Tristan releases me, marching toward Reed.

  “The bathrooms, they flooded ove
rnight. I called the plumber, but we might not be able to open tonight.”

  “Let me buy the place before it falls apart.” Tristan glances at me, then tilts his head toward the exit. Is he wanting me to leave? I don’t think so. “I already own the surrounding buildings. As the ink from the sale dries, I’ll demolish all of them and rebuild from the ground up. Like Matthew told you, the Silver Moon will resurface like a phoenix in about a year.”

  Demolishing? Wait, what’s going to happen to my apartment? Shit. I don’t like the sensation of not knowing what’s next. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt it. Fuck, everything is shifting quicker than I expected. I trusted that by the time Reed sold the place, I’d be working full-time. Maybe score a cheap apartment and buy a clunker that will allow me to trek around the city. Instead of acting like a brat and stomping out of the bar, I remind myself that I’m a grown woman who’s been caring for herself for a long time. Recalling that this isn’t the first time there’s a rock I might have to climb or walk around to reach my goals. The sight of Tristan brings the most important thing. I’m no longer alone. I have two wonderful friends that up until today have shown they have my back. Matt and Tristan. But can I fully trust them?

  Tristan's soft gaze holds mine, and I’m convinced to take the leap of faith and trust. Maybe this doesn’t look promising at the moment, but I doubt they’ll leave me behind to find my own way.

  Changing gears, my heart and mind reconnect, reclaiming my positive side. “Let’s get to work,” I say, walking past them. “Those bathrooms won’t get fixed or cleaned by themselves.”

  Once my shift is over, I head back home. “Can we talk?” I jump out of my skin the moment I hear Tristan’s voice behind me.

  Despite reclaiming my positive side, I’m still a realist. All night I’ve worked in automatic mode while pondering my next move. I’ve ignored everyone—possibly missed out on tips—because of the shit going through my head. Right now, I have to consider my future.

  I’ve thought about what I could lose. Reed. Losing the routine I’ve become accustomed to. A few days a week I have them: Matt and Tristan. In a way, the bar is my home, and the guys were becoming some form of an extended family. But when the ink dries . . . am I going to be alone?

  Again?

  At least until they rebuild. And then I might get to work with the two of them again—I hope.

  Did I misread Tristan’s look earlier that implored me to trust him?

  “Fuck, this is hard.” Tristan releases a large breath. “You’re the one who knows the words or the actions to soothe us, to reassure us that everything will work out. Well, no. Matt does too. I’m the only one that’s not good at it. I have no idea how to make you see that no matter what happens to the Silver Moon, I’ll take care of you. You have us—Matt and me.” He runs a hand through his hair, and the pounding of my heart slows down as he confirms what my gut told me earlier.

  Tristan reaches for his jeans pocket, pulls something out, and walks to me. He takes my hand, flips it, and places the crystal I gave him on top of it. Closing it into a fist, he kisses it and his dark eyes focus on me. “I’ve been alone for years, but you make me want to be a part of something—of someone. I want to be a part of you.”

  It shocks me that he says that with such conviction. As if he loves me. Like Matt. Unlike Matt, this man is secretive, private. But not much with me, and that makes me want to let him inside my world, including the bad parts where no one is allowed. As I did with Matt.

  Why is it that these two men have me tied into bunches of knots? He must have seen me kissing Matt. Am I reading this wrong? Is he offering himself as well? In competition to Matt or is this something altogether different? Unconventional. No . . .

  Both are so different, yet so similar. One is a book of riddles I want to solve, while the other is an open encyclopedia I want to read from cover to cover. Every day I work hard to be in control of myself, of my world. These two make me feel as if I’ll never attain my goal. That it’s safer if I lose myself between them and throw the control out the window. How is this possible?

  God. Someone. Whoever can hear me . . . get me out of here before I do something stupid. Like falling in love—with the two of them. Then crashing hard because I lost myself in them.

  I want to be a part of you? Where did that come from, fucktard?

  I can’t figure out what is it about her that gets me all the time. No, I do. It’s the eyes. Those big, expressive eyes with a unique color that remind me of a lavender-tinted sunset. They play me like a fiddle. When they smile, I smile. The moment Thea’s world crashed by the future plans of the Silver Moon, my world crashed. Guilt, worry, anger, remorse. They all sit on top of my chest as a boulder constricting my airway.

  We talk about Thea’s future projects: Edits for Matt, and becoming a receptionist while working toward her counseling license. But I don’t know if either will pay enough to rent an affordable apartment and to cover her other expenses. She might be right. There are other apartments and jobs, but there’s that indescribable need inside me to protect her.

  “It’s an amethyst,” Thea says, her deep-set eyes never leaving mine. “The stone of sobriety.”

  Thea’s hands wiggle out of my grasp and she touches the butterfly pendant she wears. One that happens to have a smaller version of the crystal I carry.

  “That night, a nagging feeling told me you needed to believe in something. Also, that you were losing yourself to alcohol. Some unknown force inside me wanted me to give you that little piece of hope.”

  Thinking about that night, I can’t recall many details but her face and the pull she exercised over me. Fuck, even back then that magical energy that swirls between us existed.

  “You sound whacky.” I kiss her temple. “But it’s one of those quirks that makes you . . . you. Just today I thought that the herbal-incense scent at your home relaxes me. I’d rather be here in this little space than at my own house.”

  “You might change your mind.” Thea studies me, takes my hand, and guides me through the stairs, as if I need assistance or to make sure I don’t get lost. She opens the door to her apartment and gives me another glance. “Do you want to come inside?”

  “Yes, Butterfly, I’d love to.” I hold the door open as she walks inside, following behind. The tightness in my chest recedes, but I still have many questions for her, for me, and maybe a few decisions to make.

  I continue listening to Thea, incapable of making a sound. I’m dumbfounded about the crazy amount of information she dumped in my lap. Drunk; addict; child star. I did my part by holding her hand while she spoke, clearly lost in her past.

  “I never wanted to act. But some guy discovered me. It was the strange tone of blue, close to lilac eyes. The long, curly dark hair. From that moment on, I became the gold mine. Modeling was the name of the game. If I posed for the cameras, I received a prize. For each time I got a job, I received something special. At nine I landed a show. Sophie Knows It All. I hated to act, but I loved that for a day I had a family that pretended to care about me.”

  She tips her head and those watery eyes stab my heart, but not one tear makes it through the barrier. How did she become this strong?

  “At home they only cared about how much I’d bring after each job. A steady paycheck that financed my parents’ habits. When I became a teenager, Dad decided that maybe I should pose for a different kind of people. I hated it. To numb the pain I used more and more. First it was only alcohol, then ecstasy, and by the age of sixteen I didn’t give a shit about what I drank or shot up my veins. As long as the pain of what my life had become disappeared for those moments. I’m anxious when in public, because I’m scared that someone will recognize me. My father likes to sell both my stories and me to the paparazzi. My first guy was a producer, which granted me a role in a movie. After that, I drank heavier every time I had to . . . do it. Sex and alcohol go together. I no longer drink—or have sex.”

  I close my eyes to process everything she
said and slowly absorb the last sentences. Bile rises in my throat. That’s considered rape. I hold in those words, not wanting to open a can of worms. She already looks like her world is falling apart. I drag my fingers up and down her arm.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, “that no one cared for you. That you had to be alone for so long.”

  That’s the best I come up with as I work through everything I heard inside my head, while calming myself before I pay Mason Bradley to locate her father. Once I find him, I can shoot him. One bullet for each tear she shed. Lord, I have no fucking idea what’s going to happen; her family is more fucked up than mine. Ending up involved with her might not be smart, but not being with her frightens me more.

  “Yes, my background isn’t uplifting or beautiful,” she says, staring at our interlaced fingers, “but I dream that someday I’ll have a bright future, a beautiful family. Maybe like yours?”

  “My family?” I huff, shaking my head. “They’re different, that’s for sure.”

  He stares at me thoughtfully but remains silent. We have unloaded years of family pain. Our parents and the way we were raised. I hurt for the boy that received a beating each time he didn’t do the right thing. I kiss every place he mentioned was hit by his father after finding out that kissing a boy was as beautiful as kissing a girl. The young man that discovered that being touched by a man was as thrilling as making love to a girl, the same boy who was sent to receive treatment to cure him from some freaky disease. “We are soldiers from the same war, aren’t we?”

  “Afraid so.” He sprinkles kisses on my shoulder. “I love the butterflies. How many do you have?”

  My entire body shivers and there’s an ache between my legs. This can’t and won’t happen. We have to put some distance between us. He’s with Matt. They just don’t know it yet. “The butterflies like you, but keep your lips to yourself, Mr. Cooperson.”