Ever

Charlie is giving me the strangest look. I don’t know what it means, but I’m positive it’s going to pop this bubble we’re floating in. Demolish it. When he walked out onto the dance floor, his presence was just a given. Of course he was there. I’d wanted it so badly, he’d just appeared. I’ve been short sighted and delusional, thinking I could go out for a girl’s night and forget how much I miss him. Maybe we could be friends. Maybe it was worth the heartache of knowing he couldn’t, wouldn’t, give me more.

Because yeah, my heart? She is aching. Like a son-of-a-bitch.

In my entire life, there hadn’t been a single person—not even my girlfriends—who made me comfortable enough to throw my arms around their neck. To just know they would welcome it. And they would feel great. So warm and eager to hold me back. Charlie is the person who demands holding, demands it from the very bottom of my soul and I can tell, I can tell by the way he’s looking at me . . . it can’t last. For some reason, he showed up here, but it wasn’t to profess his feelings. Or tell me we could be more than friends. That much I know.

There’s no time to examine his odd expression or what it means, though, because a commotion breaks out behind me. I have this cycle of déjà vu. As though I’d seen this moment play out, but my consciousness had stolen it away until the consequences were too late. It’s Nina. I can hear her. She’s yelling. A man is shouting back.

Charlie’s expression goes from indiscernible to straight panic. He lunges forward, but I’m already whirling around, berating myself for forgetting Nina’s ex was here. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Someone pushes me from the left and I stumble a little, but the crowd is packed so tight, I bounce off another body in short order. People were dancing a moment ago, but the shouting has brought them to a standstill, their necks craning to catch the action. I hear a frantic Charlie calling my name behind me, but I keep weaving through the sweaty bodies, focused on making it to Nina.

I finally see her. The man she was dancing with before now stands between her and the ex-boyfriend, but he’s laughing, like her distress is a game. She’s crying, another girl is attempting to drag away Nina’s ex. It’s a scene and a half, and I need to get my friend out of there. Pronto. So we can wince over this at brunch tomorrow morning, none the worse for wear.

But when I’ve almost reached Nina, her ex reaches over the mediator’s shoulder, shoving her back a step. Outrage makes everything in my line of vision bright, bright white. I shout my roommate’s name and I’m within reaching distance, when the mediator turns and two-hand pushes Nina’s ex. Hard. He reels, falling back on his haunches before surging to his feet. Fists start flying and all at once, it’s like everyone in the vicinity is fed a rage supplement. There’s pushing on both sides of me. Yelling. The music stops. The lights come up.

An elbow hits me in the ribs and I stumble, the breath knocked from my lungs. An arm wraps around my waist, though, keeping me upright.

“Ever.” Charlie’s reassuring voice warms my ear, but it’s laced with the same panic I saw douse his features moments earlier. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod, reaching out and grasping Nina’s wrist, tugging her close. “I’m fine. Nina, are you all right?”

She turns wide eyes on the crowd, obviously shocked by the pushing, the mayhem growing worse by the second as people start to get nervous and rush for the exits. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t know what happened—”

“Hey. I’m going to get you guys out of here. Now,” Charlie interrupts, his voice calm, eyes focused on me. “Don’t you dare run off on me like that. Not ever again.”

His shaking voice leaves me no choice but to nod. And then we’re moving. Fast. Charlie pulls me under one arm, Nina under the other and we skirt past the surging bodies, Charlie using his body to take the brunt of any flying fists. The closer we get to the emergency exit, I hear sirens and they grow louder, louder, until I realize there is a police presence in the hall, too. Everyone is scattering as a result, joints are being stomped out, people are calling the names of their friends, looking freaked out.

We burst through the emergency exit and hit the sidewalk, cool night air slapping my dewy skin, calming my buzzing nerves. Charlie steers us east, in the direction of our apartment. “What about your brother?” I ask him, my fingers curled in his shirt.

“Trust me. He can take care of himself.” Letting Nina go, he keeps an arm around my shoulders and slants a look down at me. I get the distinct impression he hasn’t quite forgiven me for running off on him. “He texted me to come find you because it wasn’t a great situation. I’m sure he was prepared for the worst.”

“He told me he was going to come to the apartment,” Nina says, referring to her ex and sounding more than a little shell-shocked. “He said we need to talk . . . and he’s coming over. Tonight.” She meets my eyes behind Charlie’s back. “I believe him. I’ve never seen him that angry.”

“You can’t let him in, Nina.” I’m trying to sound firm and soothing all at once, but my voice is unnatural, thanks to the adrenaline. “He pushed you.”

“What?” Charlie’s back stiffens. “I didn’t see. I was a little distracted.”

Yeah, he’s still ticked off at me. But his arm around my shoulders is tighter than ever, so I have no idea where we stand. That look in his eye before hell broke loose is still engraved on my mind.

“He has a key, Ever. Building and apartment,” Nina says, slapping a hand over her eyes. “We always stayed at his place. I don’t even think he’s ever used them. But he could if he wanted.”

“Yeah. Not even happening.” Charlie’s jaw is stiff as we turn the corner onto Second Avenue. “Call your super, ask him to come change the lock. I’ll wait at your place until it’s done.” The laugh he lets out is so dark, I have to double check he’s still my quick-witted, fun-guy cop in training. “Here’s hoping he does show up, so he can push someone around his own size.”

“You sound like an old-time movie actor.” I bite my lip. “It’s really cute.”

“I concur,” Nina mutters. “But there’s one problem with your solution, Charlie. When we knock on our super’s door, he just turns up the volume on Spike TV.”

“She’s right. We didn’t have heat for two days last winter because they were having a Charles Bronson marathon.”

Poor Charlie is getting more exasperated by the minute, but I’m too worried to appreciate how helpful he’s being. I’d never considered Nina’s ex a threat before, just an asshole, but that push brought things to another level. I want to make sure she’s safe in our apartment.

Charlie is already pulling out his phone. “No big deal. I’ll call a twenty-four-hour locksmith.” He dips his shoulder and nudges Nina. “It’s going to be fine, okay? No one is getting through me.”

Nina nods, a relieved, hesitant smile playing on her lips.

And that’s when I know. Without a doubt. I’m in love with Charlie Burns.

Charlie

I know Ever and Nina could have handled this on their own. There’s a chain lock and they know to call the police, if necessary. Plus, they’re a couple of badasses that just escaped a riot and started making jokes, without even missing a beat.

But I’m still mid-heart attack after watching Ever run headfirst into a brawl, so I’m not budging. Not a single inch. God help Nina’s ex-boyfriend if he does show up. I’m sitting on a kitchen stool, arms crossed, staring at the door like a bull getting ready to charge. Static is bursting and sizzling in my veins, leftover from Ever being so close to danger. I’ve got so much pent-up energy inside me that if dipshit walks through that door, it wouldn’t even be a fair fight.

My sore eye tingles, as if reminding me of the last fight I participated in. Hell, at this rate, I might as well be training for the middleweight belt.

Ever disappeared into the bathroom a few minutes ago and I hear the water running, high heels being kicked aside. She’s probably naked. Definitely, probably naked. But I’m not here to find out. Nope. I’m going to wait until the lock is changed, kiss her on the cheek and leave. Tomorrow morning, I have a hell day, meaning Greer is running drills. Plus I’ve signed on to train after hours with the Emergency Services Unit—my father’s not-so-subtle suggestion—to show the brass I’m serious about making up for the fight I instigated. The fist fight hurt my chances of making sergeant, and eventually lieutenant, on schedule, so I have a lot of ground to cover. I have no time to be playing Ever’s boyfriend, even though it feels fucking incredible to be guarding her door, ready to take on anything and anyone who comes through.

She’s looking for someone to take this job. Actively looking. I’ve seen the proof. There are dates scheduled. And I’m getting ready to leave for the final time. It’s the right decision, even if it makes me ache. Makes me ill and dizzy and anxious.

Every muscle in my body jumps at once and I surge off the stool, going into the kitchen to make coffee, trying to occupy my frustrated energy. There are Tupperware containers all over the counter, packed with cookies and little yellow bars with white frosting. I pop one open but shut the lid like a guilty child when Ever walks out of the bathroom . . . and ohhhhhh shit.

“You can have one, Charlie.” She twists her hair up in a big, floppy bun. “You can have anything you want.”

The words, the way she says them, are completely bright and innocent. But nothing is occurring to my brain on an innocent level, with her in those shorts. They’re like underwear, they’re so tiny. So, so tiny and tight. Kind of like Ever.

Clearing my throat, I turn back around, blocking my lap from her view. “Are these, uh . . . lemon?”

Ever comes up beside me and Jesus, the shirt is worse. It’s loose, with cut-off sleeves, because she’s so cool, and her tits jiggle when she walks. “Fresh lemon. Made them this morning. They go great with coffee. Want some?”

“Sure.”

She opens the fridge and bends down, showing off the beautiful curve of her ass, and my mouth literally drops open, hanging there. I’m the saddest, horniest man on the face of planet Earth. Look. Even her little ass cheeks are popping out the bottom of the material. It’s so mean and hot. “You want cream?”

“What?” I rasp, my balls tightening.

Her toes wiggle beneath the fridge door. “Do you want cream in your coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” I brace myself on the counter, trying to pull my shit together. Christ, I’ve been inside this girl dozens of times and I’ve never been this desperate for her. It’s because I can’t see her anymore. It’s because I watched her run away from me tonight and I’m still reeling. We’re getting in too deep. This has to stop or we’re going to get tangled up again.

She’s going to get hurt, and I’ll hate myself forever for it.

Nina walks out, wrapped in a robe. Her knowing gaze passes between me and Ever—and those shorts—putting a smirk on her face. But it vanishes when there’s a loud bang on the door. Ever slams her head on one of the refrigerator shelves, and I stop to kiss the spot she’s rubbing on my way to the door, natural as breathing, but my blood pressure is spiking like a football. “It’s probably the locksmith, but stay in the kitchen. Just in case.”

“Nina!”

“Just kidding, it’s your ex.” Both girls go wide-eyed. They’re nervous in their own home, and that fact causes anger to belt me across the middle. At least until Ever pulls a knife out of the chopping block and batter’s up, taking the bluntest edges off my rage. “Whoa. Good thought.” I take her arm and lower it, unable to resist kissing her nose. “But let’s see if we can handle this peacefully first.”

Yeah. Right.

Giving them what I hope is a reassuring look, I cross to the door and glance through the peephole, long enough to determine the guy is drunk and talking to himself. He’s also attempting to slide his key into the lock, which makes me really grateful I’m there—enough to make my knees feel like jelly for a few counts—because the chain on the door is weak at best, so he could’ve gotten in pretty easily. Before the cops had time to arrive. Quietly as possible, I disengage the flimsy chain, flip the deadbolt . . . and then I sneak attack the motherfucker.

My fists are twisted in his collar and we’re across the hallway before he even knows the door is open. “Drop your keys. Do it now.”

“What?” Metal hits the floor with a satisfying series of clanks. “Who are you?”

“I’m . . .” Ever’s friend? Ever’s boyfriend? Ever’s nothing? “It’s complicated.” I strengthen my grip. “But let me explain to you what isn’t complicated. This is your last time in this building.” I let that sink in. “You’re going to take your girl-pushing ass down the stairs, Uber back to 450 East Twentieth Street—that’s right, I know your address—and never come near Ever or Nina again. Not even once. Or next time, I won’t just send flowers while your new girlfriend is over, I’ll send an army of strippers who all know you by name.”

Spittle is rattling out the sides of his mouth. “That was you who sent the flowers?”

“Hell yeah, it was me.” I examine him like he’s a bug under a microscope. “I know your face now, too. And I don’t fucking like it. How about you? Do you like it or should I rearrange it a little?”

“I-I like it.”

“Guess that makes one of us.” I release him with a shove in the direction of the staircase. “You’ve got ten seconds to hit the street before I change my mind about letting you off with a warning. One . . . two . . .”

He stands there looking dumbfounded for a few counts before throwing a final longing glance at the apartment door and taking off, calling me some pretty creative names under his breath. I scoop up the keys, tucking them into my pocket, and wait until I hear the downstairs door slam. To be honest, I’m disappointed he didn’t protest a little more, because my blood is buzzing like a pissed-off swarm of bees.

It doesn’t help when I walk back into the apartment, finding the girls crowded by the slightly open door. Nina looks relieved, patting me on the shoulder. But Ever . . .

She backs up a few feet, her face flushed, pupils dilated . . . and I know that look. I counted on that look for months. It says, you’re about to get laid so hard. God, I want it. Want her. Need her. The need doesn’t care that I’m supposed to be resisting her at all costs, though. And I have serious fucking doubts about my willpower to resist.