Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (20 page)

“You too,” she goaded, nudging one at Bach.

He hadn’t stopped staring at my drink since he sat down. “I’m not hungry.”

“Me either,” she admitted, dropping her food and leaning against him. He put his arm around her and took his gaze off my drink.

“They’re both boring,” Jona mock whispered.

“Bach especially. He used to be able to party for days,” Justine added. “All he wants to do these days is lick Harley’s ass.”

“Leave him alone,” Hillary snapped. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

I paused in the middle of eating, mouth agape, shocked by her outburst.

Justine put her hand up. “I’m not fighting with you, kid. All I’m trying to say is—”

“I am not a kid. Just because I don’t flirt with every guy around me, does not make me a kid. I am not a kid!” she screeched, jumping to her feet. She scooped her purse off the table and stomped out of the house, making sure to slam the door so hard the windows rattled.

“Thanks,” Bach grumbled, chasing after her.

I stared at the door in a daze. I wanted to run after her too. She was probably on her knees like she’d been in the bathroom earlier. How could Bach comfort her? He didn’t make her feel safe. He didn’t know what it was like to get so close to fear it changed you. I resented my present so forcefully at that moment the food turned to steel in my stomach.

“Way to go,” Jona said.

“She’s a kid. Am I wrong?”

“You did leave her alone with that son of a bitch.”

“Jona.” Her eyes shifted, truly wounded. “It was an accident. I didn’t know he’d hurt her. I told you.”

He touched his hand to her face. “I know, Jus. I know you didn’t.”

To think I’d watched her ride Bach in his bedroom. I hadn’t been searching. I had my own hookups to worry about. It was more of a passing in the hall on the way to the bathroom kind of thing. What unnerved me was how she looked at Jona. How their eyes locked and something passed between them. Because it meant Bach wasn’t the only one moving on. Even Justine and Jona were leaving their garbage behind.

“Get out.” They both looked over. “Can you leave the beer?”

Jona thought about it and then dug around in his pocket, producing a small baggie with white powder. He dropped it on my lap and then gave me a look, indicating there was more where that came from. When they were gone, I grabbed the baggie and examined it.

There was a time when the sight of it would light me on fire. It meant feeling nothing, being no one, and loving every second of that in-between. But for some reason—or maybe it made perfect sense—when I opened the plastic Aubrey’s face flashed in my mind. Her chubby cheeks, her infectious laugh, and the way she looked at me like I mattered. My chest opened up and I tossed the baggie on the coffee table, falling into the waste of my life.

I thought deep down inside all I really wanted was to matter. I hadn’t mattered to my mother and father. I was just a mistake they dealt with, usually with fists and screams. I didn’t matter to myself; I rarely enjoyed my own company. I no longer mattered to Harley; all she wanted was my ex-best friend. But I mattered to Aubrey. No matter how long we were apart, her eyes lit when she saw me, as if our souls were linked. She was my daughter, and getting high would only push her further and further away.

Her face interrupted the gray area. Night and day came the way it always does, a process that repeated itself until I managed to effectively fall inside of the protection of my brain. If I wasn’t thinking about Aubrey, I was thinking about the bullet that shattered my femur. The blood, screams, and the feeling I’d never get up again. I forced myself to walk around the beach house, but the pain was too much, and the Tylenol bottle was too high to reach. I ate the subs Hillary brought, drank the scotch Bach brought, and wondered why thinking about Hillary’s angel eyes was the only thing that helped me get up off the floor.

Why didn’t she come back? We made a deal.

I tried to figure out what I’d done to make her change her mind, and then realized it didn’t matter.
This
is why I wanted nothing to do with this arrangement. Hillary was a brief part of my life. Yes, she was hurting. I feared that hurt was the only thing that brought us together. She needed something other than a broken man stuck in his house rotting. I should be glad she’d already moved on and left me behind.

“But you’re not,” I mumbled, wanting one second of her light. Just one second, and then she could leave again. It was so dark in my house. Dark everywhere I looked. I was so lost in it I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone anymore until someone shoved my shoulder. My head snapped up to find Bach in my living room. “What?” I cleared my throat when my voice broke, and stared up at the bastard.

“Have you moved from this spot at all?”

My silence answered for me. “Where’s Aubrey?”

“Nena’s watching her. It’s Saturday. Harley’s downstairs. Are you going to make us go get a hotel?”

Harley? I ran a hand down my face. I hadn’t thought about Harley in days. “Why didn’t you bring my kid?” I didn’t say no because the idea of being alone for another second scared me. I was starting to fade away past the point of return.

“I tried,” he promised, eyes grave. “Whitney’s a …” He shook his head and thought better of it. “She’s not budging. You have to do something about this, D. You can’t sit in this house all day and do nothing while your daughter grows up without you. It’s like you already gave up. You’re not going to fight for that kid? Because I’d fight for her. I’d never give up.”

I looked away from the vehemence in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fight for her,” I admitted.

There were feet on the stairs and then Harley was in my house. I didn’t look up. What was the point?

She wasn’t mine anymore.

“I can think of a million ways. One? You get your ass up. Yes, shit’s hard right now. I understand that, bro. I do. But you have to get up. You can’t keep holding yourself down. Trust me.” His voice broke, and he started pacing. “Just one drink?” he begged.

“No,” Harley whispered.

The sound of her pain bothered me. “There’s no alcohol left. I drank it all.” That was a lie, but the moment I told it Harley’s shoulders relax.

He started to breathe harder. Harley stepped close to him and held his face between her hands. He opened his eyes and latched on to hers. Whispered words fell from her lips, making him nod, pulling him from the edge, keeping him standing when a minute before all he’d wanted to do was fall.

I was struck so hard at that moment it was also hard to breathe. I wanted that again. I wanted someone to give me every reason in the world to get up, to stop falling, to show me standing wasn’t as scary as I’ve always feared.

But on the edge of all of that, I also felt a small, miniscule, rage-inducing sense of relief that my bastard ex-best friend had that now. He never did. Harley led him over to the couch and pushed him down until he was sitting, dressed in a pair of tight skinny jeans and a creamy V-neck.

Before she straightened, she met my eyes briefly. She gave me a small unsure smile.
Sexy ass.
I couldn’t help but give her one back. Damn woman could make a pussy out of anyone. She took a relieved breath and then sat on the coffee table.

“Tell me exactly what you’re running from.” She held his hands. “I know it isn’t me.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. The intimacy coming from them made me want to leave. Rather, I was stuck here. Watching them love each other.

“I can’t stop thinking about her. You saw her. She’s …” He took a deep pain-filled breath. “She’s that way because of me.”

“Oh, Bach. No, she isn’t.”

“Don’t.” He leaned back. “We both know that’s bullshit. Why are you with me? I bring nothing to this relationship but this sorry piece of shit.” He tugged at his shirt and tried to rise, but she wouldn’t let his hands go. “Let me go.”

“No.” She crawled onto his lap and held his face again. “I’ll never let you go.”

I didn’t even mind their position. All I could think about was Hillary. What was happening to her? I cleared my throat, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but unable to help myself. Hillary had no business being around me, Bach just said everything I felt, but I couldn’t stop picturing her eyes, the way the pain altered the jade in them until they were slightly darker than they were before. “What’s wrong with Hillary?”

Harley looked over at me and then at Bach. “Can you go get my things? And I’m kind of hungry.”

He brightened at the prospect of being a pussy. “You want something to eat? Apple pie perhaps?” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “Always with the apple pie. I feel like I’m getting fat living at Mom’s.” She pinched her thigh.

Bach snorted. “You’re so full of shit, babe.” He rose with her on his lap, setting her down and kissing her softly. “You want something to eat too, D?”

“I thought you were moving out?” Why was he still here pretending this friendship wasn’t shattered?

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He slapped her ass and then left, his feet pounding after him.

Once we were alone, she sat as far away from me as possible. It hurt, but I was more focused on Hillary.

“Where’s she?”

She turned to me, sitting cross-legged. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

“Fine.” This conversation had to happen at some point.

“I love Bach.”

“Clearly.”

“I loved you.”

“I know. I loved you too.”

“I know you did,” she admitted, surprising me. “I know you loved me, Dylan. But that love was a lie. You lied to me. You lied to Whitney. To Bach. To yourself. When you left me, I fell in love. Hard. And I don’t plan on ever losing this love. I’m not sorry I love Bach. He isn’t sorry he loves me. Dylan. I can’t hold on to you anymore.”

“I can’t let you go, Harley. We were supposed to be together.”

“But we aren’t,” she said simply. “We aren’t together. I think you’re so caught up in what you wanted; you can’t even see what’s really happening. I mean look at you.” She waved a hand at me. “Where’s the handsome, smart, charismatic guy I fell in love with?”

“That man was fake. You know that. I was never him. I was just being him so you’d want him.”

“You and Bach think you’re such bad people. But Bach is one of the most honest and loyal men I have ever met. You gave everything up for your daughter. You are not a bad person. You lied. I forgive you. I forgive you for lying, Dylan. Now you have to forgive yourself.”

I didn’t want to hear this. “If I told you the truth would you have stayed with me? If you knew I was in the army when we met and I had a kid, would you have even given me a chance?”

I had to know. If it was my fault, then it was my fault. But in my head, it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. She did this to us. Maybe she was right. I couldn’t let what I thought I had go because without it there was nothing.

“Yes.” Her expression didn’t waver. Her eyes showed nothing but the truth.

I believed her because she loved Bach now, and he and I weren’t all that different when you got to our bones. Pain invaded my guts. It was my fault. I did this to us. I lied to her, and my truths ruined us. I put my face in my hands and groaned. “Harley. I’m sorry for lying.”

“Forgive yourself. You’re going to be stuck here until you let what we had go.”

“It’s not just you,” I growled bitterly, letting the truth slip through.

“I know it isn’t. It’s not having your daughter. It’s what happened to you overseas. That was hard for you, wasn’t it? I know it was hard. My dad suffered through it every time he came back home. He had
PTSD
too.” Tears fell down her face.

They fell down mine too. “I don’t have
PTSD.”

She crawled closer to me. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Don’t.”

She came closer anyway, touching my face. “When’s the last time you slept without remembering? The last time you felt guilty for surviving? When was the last time you didn’t think about what could have happened?”

Like the pussy I was, I pulled her against me and sobbed into her hair. “Harley. It won’t go away. The nightmares and the gunshots. There’s blood everywhere.”

She wrapped her arms around me so tightly I felt safe letting it go. “I get it, Dylan. You look just like my Dad. Lost, drifting, stuck in the fear. I couldn’t help him, but I can help you. Let me help. I still care about you. I want to be your friend. Can I be your friend again?”

“But I still love you.”

“Maybe being friends will help that go away. I miss you,” she whispered. “The way we used to laugh, the way you’d do the most awkward things at the worst times—I miss my friend, Dylan.”

I smiled through my tears. “No one could make me laugh the way you did. Dweeb,” I tacked on because we both knew she was one. A sexy dweeb that I missed too damn much but had to let go.

I had to let this woman go.

She held me tighter. “Are you going to let me help you? I’m going to school for this. I lived it with my dad. It’s the real reason why you’re not trying. You think it’s me, but it isn’t me all me. It’s this.” She touched my bare chest, right over my heart. “It’s what you went through.”

“Why do you want to help me? I’ve been a dick to you.”

“Because the girl in me who loved you can’t stand to watch you suffer. That’s why I haven’t … you know … tried to push this. Plus, you’re right; you’re a dick. And Bach has so much on his plate I’m getting scared.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes with her shirt. “I’m worried he’s going to give up. Nightmares every night. He’s been practically living with Hillary and Patty. And Hillary. Poor baby. And you. And work. And me. And Aubrey. And, and,” she managed, blubbering. “If he slips up what’s going to happen to us?”

I reached over and wiped her tears with my thumbs, cupping her face. I wanted to kiss her, but that wasn’t an option anymore. “Bach isn’t going to slip. Trust me. He loves you. What man would be dumb enough to slip with you?” When I winked, she rolled her eyes, but she was listening. “Who’s Patty?”

“Hill’s mom.”

“She’s cool with having Bach around?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. They have a special relationship.” She shook her head, as if dispelling a memory.