CHAPTER 2
Chelcie
Crap.
How do I lose my keys twice in one week?
Ever since I moved into Dee’s old apartment, I swear I’ve been falling apart at the seams. It doesn’t help that everything is changing around me so rapidly that I can’t seem to hold on tight enough.
New town.
New friends.
New home.
And . . . the baby.
A fresh wave of loss washes through me when I think about the father my child will never know.
Shifting my weight, I drop my bags of groceries on the floor, switch my purse to the other arm, and start looking for my phone.
“Come on . . . Where is the damn thing?” I mutter to myself, checking each pocket before dropping down to kneel on the carpeted floor and dumping the contents of my purse out.
Are you kidding? Gone. My phone is just gone.
Careful to steady my balance, I drop lightly on the floor next to my door.
I want to cry—I really do—but I know it won’t change anything. It’s insane how quickly everything can change around you. It could be worse. I know that, but right now . . . Right now, it feels a hell of a lot like rock bottom.
I take a deep breath, resting my hand against my slightly rounded stomach, and blink back the tears that keep threatening to burst through my carefully built wall.
It’s only been a few months since I packed up everything I owned and moved to Georgia. It all started when my boss, and good friend, Dee was attacked, leaving me feeling so completely vulnerable and alone that I didn’t know what end was up. Seeing her coming so close to death just did something to me that I can’t explain. I’ve always been strong and independent, but seeing that . . . It just hit me.
I turned to the closest thing I could find to make me feel alive again—the one and only, Zeke Cooper. He was fun, hilarious, and best of all, a distraction to the mess around me. I’ve never been the type of girl who just hooks up with anyone. I crave stability and love to fall into a man’s bed. But I needed something that he was more than willing to give. I knew the score, and I was okay with it. He wasn’t the type of man a girl goes into anything with hoping that she’ll get the white picket fence and the cookie-cutter house. No, he was the type of man a girl goes to when she needs to escape the world around her.
All it took was one night.
And then . . . And then he was taken from everyone.
I never imagined that my stalling to tell him that he would be a father meant that he would never know. I just didn’t know how to tell the king of hook-ups that his one-night stand was about to turn into a lifetime of commitments.
Now my little one’s father is gone.
I never anticipated being a mother. I had a plan. Find a man—a great man, the kind of man who puts you on a pedestal and shows you daily how much he loves you. I wanted the happily ever after that dreams are made of. But more importantly, I knew that I never wanted to raise a child as a single mother. I wanted my children to have the love of both parents.
Sighing deeply, I pull myself off the floor, brushing off the stress of situations I have no control over. What’s the point? It’s not going to bring my baby’s father back.
The second I climb to my feet, I remember who might be able to help me out of this situation.
Maddox.
Last I heard—from Izzy, who’d heard it from Axel when he was talking to Cage—Maddox was back in town for a little while. He’s been gone for a few weeks trying to talk Emmy into coming home. The poor girl has been going through so much after Coop’s murder that I really don’t see how he’s going to be successful. I hope he is though. Even though I don’t know Emmy that well, she is definitely someone I miss having around.
Luckily for me, he has a key to my place. One thing that can be said about this little ‘family’ I’ve come to love: they make sure they have every aspect of each other’s lives covered. It should feel weird that a man I don’t really know all that well has a key to my place, but right now, when all I can think of is getting back into my bed and sleeping for a year, I’m thankful that he does.
It doesn’t take me long to make the trek up to Maddox’s top-floor apartment, but by the time I do, my nerves are flying all over the place. I shouldn’t be nervous, but let’s face it, there isn’t anything about Maddox Locke that isn’t insanely intimidating.
Could be worse. It could be Asher.
I quickly dismiss the thought. Asher is the one man who makes me insane . . . with unleashed desire.
And the worst part? He’s Zeke Cooper’s brother—and the uncle to my unborn child.
We’ve become close over the last few months. I try to keep my lust to a simmer when I’m around him, but he’s just so . . . God, I don’t even know.
He towers over me, probably close to six foot four or so. He isn’t huge like Axel, but there is nothing about him I would call small. No, he is built solid with trim hips and the hottest butt I’ve ever had the pleasure of gawking at.
The part that kills me is that he looks so much like his brother. I know they were close in age, but they could have passed as twins.
Shaking off the thoughts of Asher Cooper, I come to a stop in front of Maddox’s apartment door and give my breathing a chance to calm down.
Just the thought of Asher has my heart rate spiking and my skin feeling flush, which is a testament to how badly I need some attention. I have a feeling that, with my raging hormones, I would start humping his leg if he were around.
Jesus, Chelc, get a freaking grip!
Sighing deeply, I bring my hand up to knock on Maddox’s door. It takes a second and a few more knocks before the door is swung wide and I’m met with the blue-eyed devil of sex appeal himself, Asher Cooper.
Before I can even open my mouth, he’s snarling, “What the hell do you want?”
“Excuse me?” I question, stepping back from the waves of anger that are rolling off of him. My skin starts to tingle, and I just know that I’m missing something here.
Something feels off.
“I said . . . what the hell do you want?” It takes me a second, but when he moves to come towards me, I’m hit with the unmistakable smell of heavy liquor.
Dammit. Not again.
One thing about Asher is that he’s as nice as can be and genuinely a fun guy to be around . . . until he’s drowning his grief in a bottle. Then it’s like he doesn’t even see anything but his pain.
“Uh . . .”
His eyes narrow at my stupid stuttering, and I can tell by his facial expression that, no matter what I say, he’s primed and ready for a fight.
“Not a fucking hard question, Sunshine. What the hell do you want? If it’s anything other than lying on your back and spreading those thighs, then I’m not interested.”
The. Hell?
“Uh . . .”
“I’ve got plenty of this to go around,” he arrogantly states while waving his hand over his crotch. “All you need to do is say the word. I’m all about my ladies having some meat on their bones.”
I can feel my face heat with embarrassment. Yeah, I’m at that awkward stage in my pregnancy where I look like I’ve just had way too much fun at KFC and then went over to the bakery and asked for one of everything. My mind is telling me that he doesn’t mean it, but deep down, it hurts.
“How dare you!” I squeak—yes, squeak.
“What? There isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Your tits though . . . Damn, now those make up for the extra weight.”
It’s like my hand just moves without my permission. One second, I’m ready to go hide in a dark hole, and the next, I’m pissed to the brim. When my hand cracks across his cheek, sending his head to the side and shocking us both, I want to take it back, but in the end, I square my shoulders and wait for him to tear me down again.
When his eyes come back to mine, the shock of my slap taking some of his drunken buzz away, he just looks at me. I can see each of my fingers shining like neon across his tan skin, causing a wave of distress to hit me.
“Did you just slap me?” he asks, clearly confused now that he isn’t stuck on drunken-douche mode.
“You have got issues, Asher. Serious issues. I have no clue what has you jumping back into the bottle, but I deserve a lot more than your crap.” My chest is rising as rapidly as my temper, and all I want to do is take him by the neck and shake the shit out of him.
“I’m sorry?”
“How is it possible for you to forget all that verbal vomit that you just spewed? Well, don’t you worry about it, Ash. When you sober up, maybe then you can come and let the chubby chick know that you’re sorry. All I care about right now is talking to Maddox and finding the spare to my apartment so I can go to bed. I’m tired, and the last thing I want to do is deal with a drunk you.”
“He isn’t here,” he says, still looking at me as if he’s seeing me in some weird light.
“Well, isn’t that just great,” I mumble.
“Hold on. I’ll go get the key.”
He comes back a few seconds later and mutely hands me a key. I don’t even spare him a glance. I snatch the key and walk away. I can feel my emotions getting the best of me, and the last thing I want is to let him know that he’s hurt my feelings.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him exactly what I think of him, but I know he won’t even hear it when he’s this lost.
“Hey, Chelcie?” I hear right when the elevator door opens.
I brush the lone tear from my cheek and turn.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, okay?”
“Yeah, Asher. So am I.”
I know he doesn’t mean it. Well, hell, maybe he does. But when he’s drunk, he becomes someone I just don’t want to be around.
And I can’t help but wonder if the precarious friendship we have slowly been building was just knocked down because he doesn’t know how to heal from the pain of losing his brother.