Motherfucker.
My fists pummeled the bag. Hit after hit. Sweat slicked my skin and my heart thrashed in my chest.
On the other side, Damian held the bag, pushing back.
I drove into it as hard as I could. Pounding and pounding. Like I might have the chance of beating out all the frustration—all the confusion—that licked at my insides.
“Whoa, man, not sure what the hell is going on with you, but just an FYI…you’re about to kick my ass through this bag here, which is totally not close to being the point of this exercise. This is a no-contact sport, meaning I should have a safe, cushy spot over here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were pissed at me. But considering I’m your favorite person in the world, we both know that’s not the case.”
I just grunted.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
My taped-up fists slammed against the vinyl.
So yeah.
Maybe the whole damned time I was imagining it was that big, burly motherfucker’s face.
Sue me.
I laid into it harder.
Damian pushed back. Hard. “You ’bout done?”
I gave it one last good hit, before I stumbled back, panting like a damned dog. I yanked at the tape around my wrists. “Fine.”
I began to pace the garage floor that had been turned into a makeshift gym, sucking deep breaths into my too-tight lungs.
Damian sauntered into the middle of the room, wearing that smirk that claimed he knew too much. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess this sour-puss mood you’ve been rocking for the last two days has something to do with that chick you went and ruined your show at The Lighthouse for on Tuesday night. And by the way, Craig is so not impressed. You’re totally on probation. Said one more fuck up and you’re out.”
Like I gave a shit.
I gave him an answering scowl. “Fuckin’ up seems to be my forte, now doesn’t it?”
“Whatever, man. Use that as a bullshit excuse. You just can’t help yourself. Sound about right?”
“Sure does.”
He shook his head. “God, you can be such an asshole. You do realize taking it out on me isn’t going to change anything?”
Dropping my head, I set my hands on my waist, trying to suppress some of the bullshit emotions doing their best to escape.
Because he was right.
None of this had anything to do with him.
I managed to fuck shit up all on my own.
His voice quieted in caution. “You about ready to tell me who she is?”
I swallowed over the lump that suddenly felt prominent in my throat. Like that regret was compounding. Growing bigger. Pressing. I wondered just how long it would be until it exploded.
“An old friend.”
Labeling her as only that? It felt like another damned betrayal.
Because she’d been everything.
But betraying?
That’s what I did best.
“A friend?” His tone was all kinds of incredulous. “Sure didn’t look that way to me.” He tossed it out like an accusation, his words like darts nailing me to the wall.
I spun toward him. In surrender, I threw my arms out to the side. “Fine. You want to know who she is? She is someone important. Someone I hurt. Two nights ago was the first time I’ve seen her in years.”
Not since she’d packed her things and ran. It was the night I’d gone and taken the secret she’d offered me like a gift and tossed it out like it was yesterday’s news.
I was supposed to protect it.
Protect her.
Instead I hadn’t done anything but leave her to be trampled underfoot. Revealed what he was never supposed to know.
It was my fault.
I knew it. Losing my fucking head the way I had.
And there was nothing I could say in her panic to get her to stay.
I can’t believe you would do this to me. After everything I trusted you with. Just…stay out of it. Stay out of my life and my business because I can’t trust you. Don’t make this any worse than you already did.
That’s what she’d left with me, the words forced out through her sobs, horror in her eyes gleaming through the tears staining her face.
Then she’d vanished into the night. Days had turned into weeks and weeks had turned into months.
It was the years that had passed that assured me I’d lost her forever. I’d been so damned careless. Taking the fragile and tossing it around. Stupid enough to think when it fell, it wouldn’t break.
Her parting words spun through me.
Stay out of it.
Unease swirled. A sudden onslaught of nausea.
Maybe I should regret it. Regret the fact I’d ignored her final plea. Sticking my nose deeper into her business than I’d ever allow her to know.
But I couldn’t.
Couldn’t find any remorse for making that bastard pay.
Of course she had no clue it was me.
That I was responsible.
That was something that would only hurt her more. The girl was too kind and too good to understand that sometimes the right thing to do most people would consider wrong.
You know the old rule.
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
Only thing I regretted was I wished I could have taken more from him.
God knew he’d just about ruined her.
In discomfort, Damian shifted, hesitant as he hedged the subject. Like he was trying to get to the heart of it all without uttering it aloud. Figuring he would set me off.
Smart boy.
God knew I was one misstep from coming unglued.
“She’s really pretty, yeah?”
A disoriented chuckle rumbled in my chest.
Pretty.
Not even close.
She was fucking gorgeous.
It was like the girl had been created just for me. A replica of my every fantasy.
But it was the inside that left me a jumbled mess.
The gracious and the good.
The girl was the only one who shed a light strong enough to pull me from the dark. The one who held the power to call me from the blackened waters where my lungs were filled. At the cusp of succumbing.
Right where I belonged.
But that girl…that girl had given me air.
A reprieve from the unending storm.
I raked an agitated hand through my hair. Fuck. Just the memory of her standing there two nights ago threatened to harden my cock, and that right there should be warning enough.
Here I was again. Wishing I could plow right through all those lines I was forbidden to cross.
Itching to taste. To touch. To take.
My stomach twisted, thinking about the way she’d looked when I’d seen her Tuesday night.
How she still managed to affect me.
My dick had gone hard while all the hard, brittle, broken places inside wanted to go soft.
To melt beneath the sweet and the pure.
My fingers twitched with just the idea of diving into those waves, now longer than before, that beautiful mess of hair so blonde it was almost white.
My mouth watered with just the thought of getting one more taste of those soft lips that always rested in a seductive pout.
Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when that asshole had swooped in like some kind of glorified deliverer. Staking his claim. Taking what should have been mine.
But I was the one who was the fool. The one ignorant enough to let her go.
It was jealousy that had gotten the best of me the first time. I wasn’t about to let it win twice.
That didn’t mean watching him tuck her close to comfort her didn’t sting like a bitch.
Did he get her the way I did?
Had she let him in?
Did he know?
Thinking about it had me antsy, fingers twitching with the urge to yank out all my hair, my masochistic mind hung up on the idea of another man touching her.
God, I was a selfish prick.
Had been for my whole damned life.
Taking the good and crushing it in my hands.
Shit.
I didn’t want to be.
I didn’t want to continue to be a failure.
But it seemed impossible to right all those wrongs.
Because this disaster I’d caused?
It’d rippled wide with a devastating effect.
Ruining lives.
I’d forever regret ruining hers and destroying the last good in mine.
“Come on, man. Just…go…talk to her.” Damian shrugged like the solution was simple.
I huffed. “Talk to her? She made it pretty damned clear she didn’t want to see me, let alone talk to me. And it’s not like I have her phone number and can just dial her up.”
With his index finger, Damian scratched behind his ear and averted his gaze to the floor. The way he always did when he was feeling guilty. Finally, he looked up. “You know Deak knows her, right?”
I froze. A scowl marched across my face as his words sunk in. “What do you mean, Deak knows her?”
Deak was the owner of this house. Three months ago, Damian and I had come to Santa Cruz with the expectation of passing through, not staying for longer than a week or two, the way we always did. But on the night I’d first played at The Lighthouse, he and Deak had struck up a conversation. Didn’t take them long to realize they were both addicted to the sea and the surf, Deak growing up on the big waves of Australia while Damian had braved the freezing waters of the Washington coast.
That night, Deak had offered up his place. Said he’d been looking to let out a couple rooms in the house he’d inherited from his grandparents. He’d been living here alone for the last two years since he’d moved to the States.
I’d told him I couldn’t promise how long we’d stick around, because I wasn’t about to get myself tied to one place.
Not when I had no idea where I belonged or where I was headed.
Still, we’d been hanging here for the last three months.
The house was perched on a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Night after night, the sound of the waves filled my ears, calling to me just the same as they pushed me away, his presence strong and profound. Same way it always was anytime I was up close to the sea.
Precisely the reason I never got far.
I’d thought that’s why I felt incredibly bound to this place.
But I guess I’d been tied to it in a way I didn’t get.
Not until now.
Not until her.
And fuck, if it didn’t feel like fate.
Eyebrows drawn, Damian cocked his head as he began to explain. “That guy? The one you looked like you were about two seconds from tearing apart?”
I gave a short nod.
Like I could forget.
“He owns the surf shop where Deak helps out sometimes. Name’s Jed. Turns out your girl works there too, works the register at the shop. Rooms with him and his sister at a little place a couple miles from here. Apparently Jed said something to Deak about her freaking out about some guy playing at The Lighthouse. Deak put two and two together. Asked me this morning if I knew how you knew Edie Evans. Said something about her being a sweet girl who didn’t need any more trouble.”
Anger burned through my veins.
Rooms.
Was she sharing his bed?
Turning away, I raked a hand down the back of my neck, rubbed at the tight muscles, not sure if I had it in me to process what that fact meant.
Maybe fate was too damned late.
“Never seen you this spun up, man. She’s different than the rest?” Damian asked.
I knew what he meant. Wanting to know if this was just about me wanting to get my dick wet. If she was like the girls I blew through town after town.
Wishing for someone or something to fill the void.
Knowing it was impossible.
But at least for a few sex-fueled moments I could forget.
It’d never been about that with Edie. Even though that’s what had fucked it all up in the end.
My need for her had grown to a place where I couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think straight. Because of it I’d burned what we had straight into the ground.
“Yeah, man. She’s different.”
So different.
So different and perfect and right.
Too perfect for me.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t ache for her with every messed-up part of me.
He huffed out a sigh. “Seems to me you have some amends to make.”
Guilt throbbed in my conscious, heavy and hard and suffocating. I looked toward the ceiling, the words raw when I forced out the confession. “I’ve made more mistakes than I could ever make up for.”
There were some mistakes you couldn’t take back.
Damian might think I was a good guy.
He was wrong.
“Then you’d better get busy, my friend, because hanging out here acting like a straight-up asshole isn’t going to win you any points.”
Her fragile voice echoed through my mind. Touching me like it used to in the dark, her hands fisted in my shirt like a plea.
When I’m with you, it doesn’t hurt so bad.
Hope sparked in that dark, dark place.
That place only her light could reach.
There were so many mistakes I’d made that I could never redeem.
But maybe…just maybe…this one I could vindicate.