- Chapter Twelve -

Abell

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I watched her vanish into her apartment, just sitting there in my car and... watching.

What is happening to me?

It was insanity, and I knew it. Pure fucking insanity.

I want her.

More than just for a quick fuck, more than just to hear her moan, though that was glorious in its own right.

What I wanted from Nix was deeper. It pulled at me, as if it were a memory coming to the surface. This woman was creating an ache in me that only got worse the longer I let her scratch it.

Slamming my fist against the steering wheel, I gave a hollow laugh. “I'm losing my mind. My entire fucking mind.”

This thing with Nix had shifted from a method to keep my money—and the loose women—into something so much more. I hadn't wanted it to, I hadn't even dreamed it could!

But here I was, sitting outside her apartment, wishing I could find an excuse to go inside and see her again. Just to look at her face, hear her voice.

Was this what love was?

I revved the engine hard, burning rubber as I floored it away. My fingers went to turn the radio on; the missing knob reminded me of how I'd freaked out weeks ago.

Pushing the eject button, I gingerly slid the CD of rock music out. It felt fragile in my hand. The reflective edge bounced the street lights back at me when I twisted it in the air.

If we hadn't met that night... if we hadn't hooked up...

Would any of this be different?

If I'd met Nix for the first time during that meeting, would it have been easier to close off to her? How funny, to think that a simple fling would become the root of my weakness.

Bristling with too many different emotions, I dropped the CD and ripped out my beaten up pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, I pulled into the garage below my apartment. The buzzing of my phone startled me.

Shoving the cigarette to the corner of my lips, I parked the car and clicked the green button on my cell phone. “Hello?”

“Mr. Birch,” a robotic voice crackled. “Do you have a moment?”

Screwing my eyebrows up, I opened the door, stepping into the garage. “That depends, who's calling?”

“Someone with a message.”

Chuckling, I dropped the cigarette, crushing it with my heel. The tobacco just didn't taste as good as it used to. After having Nix, nothing compared. “A message? Is this a prank?”

The voice hissed with distortion. “More like a warning. Walk away from her, and you'll be compensated. Stay with her, and you'll ruin her life.”

Every fiber of my being locked up. “What?”

“You don't have to marry anyone, you'll be free, and with a million dollars in your pocket. Wouldn't it be nice to be your own man, answering to no one—not even your father?”

“Who the hell is this?” I asked, crushing the phone.

“Think about it. You're broken, and deep down, you know you'll destroy her if you stay with her. Why make both of you unhappy? Decide what you want: the money, or to see her heart become black and ruined by your flaws. And if you tell anyone about this phone call, the deal is off. Tread carefully, Mr. Birch.” There was a sharp click, then my phone went silent.

Holding the device at a distance, I just stared. What the fuck was that? They can't be serious. Fury rattled through my bones, the edges of my phone creaking from the pressure.

Who the fuck would DARE threaten to split up me and Nix?

That woman belonged to me. I'd never harm her.

Yet, somehow, those robotic words rung painfully true.

I'd always believed the world was cruel and terrible. Why was I exempt? Fuck, I knew I wasn't special. I was as selfish as anyone.

Was marrying Nix actually going to wreck her heart? Her life?

What's the point in bribing me? Someone had an agenda. They were trying to tempt me into avoiding the marriage, and I had no clue why.

Was it someone I knew?

My skull hurt from all the questions I had. One of them kept fluttering out front like a giant moth: If this marriage made me happy, but shattered her heart in the long run...

Could I really go through with it?

****

I'd chugged every beer I could find in my apartment.

The bottle of brandy that had been under my sink, too.

Distantly, I knew I was being destructive. These were old habits—or sort of old. It had been barely a month since I'd met Nix, could a man really change himself in that amount of time?

I don't need to change.

I never could have, anyway.

My phone sat on my coffee table. I eyeballed it as I paced. It might as well have been a loaded gun.

Who fucking called me?

What the hell do I do?

Since my mother had died, the only person I'd ever relied on was myself. Nix had started to slip inside my ribs, dangerously close to my heart, but... I couldn't talk to her. Not until I came to some sort of conclusion about what to do.

Marrying her could ruin her.

But running could do the same.

Baring my teeth, I jammed my knuckles into the wall. The plaster exploded; I was lucky as hell I didn't hit a stud. Shaking my hand, ignoring the smear of blood from the broken skin, I took a swig from the empty brandy bottle.

“Shit,” I said to the air. “I need more alcohol.” This edge had to be drowned. The stress that boiled in my veins was heating me up, and not in a good way. I have to get out of here, I need to just... just move around.

I needed to escape.

My bare skin was sweating, I'd ripped my shirt off after I'd spilled beer on it. Stumbling into my bedroom, I grabbed the first shirt I could find in the dark. I slid it on, my jacket following as I stumbled out the door.

More booze, I thought, slapping my arms to ward off the cold. Alcohol would warm me, just as it would erase my concerns. There was no better friend than a full bottle.

It was late, the winter clouds bloated and dark. The air that bit me warned of snow. Along the street, shops had decorated their awnings with red and green lights. The cheerful glow guided me into the first bar I could find.

I didn't even read the name.

Distantly, I knew what I was doing. I knew it as the scent of stale margaritas and filthy bathrooms hit me. I probably knew it before then, actually.

It wasn't just a blackout drunkeness that I needed. My cures involved soft tits and muscled thighs around my middle. That'd hurt her.

What, did I have a conscience suddenly?

You always did.

I had to shut my inner thoughts up with more booze. Sitting at the bar with my skull pounding, I waved the bartender closer. “Give me something hard.”

He didn't hesitate, he slid me a thick mug filled with amber liquid. I chugged the glass; it didn't matter what it was, it wasn't about taste—just the numbness.

She'll be ruined by me if I go through with this.

Her...

And the baby.

No, there was a chance I could be a good father. Fuck that chance, how could I rely on that possibility? How could I ever keep going if Nix... and my child... if their lives were tainted because of me?

Growling, I dug my injured hand into my knee. Stop thinking about it.

Stop thinking about them.

Picturing Nix just made everything worse.

“Hey, never expected to see you again.”

Turning, I studied the blonde woman. She had on a sparkly, skin-tight dress, completely inappropriate for the weather. A Try-Hard, I thought distantly. I hadn't had one of those in forever. Wait. Blinking, I recognized the woman speaking to me. “You're Trish, right?” The girl we rescued during the music concert.

Laughing, she took a deep pull from her drink. “Yup. Funny, I didn't think the notorious Abram Birch remembered the names of any women.”

My guts contorted as if razor-wire had been wound through them. She wasn't wrong; the list of women I'd forgotten was a long one.

Twisting my palm through my hair, I forced an empty smile. “That's only girls I sleep with. Not the ones I save.”

Her eyes twinkled, hip cutting a sharp angle as she leaned closer. “Ah. You know, I didn't even recognize who you were that night in the park.”

“Well, you had just been attacked.”

Trish paused, her eyes hooding. “It was a strange night. I was lucky that girl came along.”

That girl. “Nix,” I said. “Her name is Nix.”

She pursed her lips, considering me with fresh eyes. “You know her name? Guess you didn't sleep with her after all. I figured you would.”

It should have been obvious before. Somehow, it took Trish saying it to drive the point home.

I didn't forget Nix's name.

My heart was jolted, electricity running through my tongue.

I didn't forget her!

In all my life, that had never happened. Women came and went through my bedroom. They left their panties, they left hickies, but not until now had any of them left a memory.

Only her.

Only Nix Halloway.

“Nice shirt,” Trish said, fingering the edge of the garment's neck.

That was when I looked down, realizing what I'd put on in my near panic. The shirt she bought for me. In a daze, I ran my palm over the front of it. The red color made the cuts on my knuckles stand out vibrantly. That day rushed back to me; the flower shop, the tulips, the admission to Nix about making her jealous...

The ice cream we'd sat and ate together.

All of it stole my oxygen until I was light headed.

“So,” Trish purred, sliding her fingers over my shoulder. “Do you want to go back to your place, or mine?”

I stood up too fast, the bar stool went toppling. Trish backed up a step, her confusion turning her pale. “Sorry,” I said, slamming money down on the bar. “I can't do that.”

Laughing self-consciously, she tossed her hair. “Why not?”

“Because I'm about to be a married man.”

Trish stammered, but she said nothing else as I marched out that door and back into the dark night. Oddly enough, it wasn't that cold anymore. Or perhaps that was just the energy burning in my blood.

Digging my phone out, I scanned my recent calls as I walked. There, that one. Redialing the number, I listened to the ringing.

“Hello again,” the robotic voice said.

My breath was like a dragon's fiery steam. “Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said fuck you.” Something wet tickled my forehead. “I don't know who you are, but you can't force me to stay away from Nix. Money, threats, it doesn't matter. That woman is mine, do you hear me? Mine!”

There was a long pause on the line. “You're making a mistake.”

“The only mistake I made was listening to your offer.”

Slamming the phone closed, I endured the pounding of my ears. Alcohol had left me disoriented, but my determination and rage had cleansed me.

The world was bright again.

Once more, something cold bit at my skin. Water dripped down my arm, burning at the cuts healing on my hand. Looking up into the black sky, I shut my eyes and inhaled.

It had started to snow.