Empathy (21 page)

The unfamiliar black pickup in my driveway has my police training kicking into gear, my mind registering the plate, my eyes assessing the house and surroundings, but time stops when a man jumps from the truck and walks towards me.

I exit my car and stare at him; gun metal eyes with flecks of green, a mirror image of my own unique eye color stands in front of me. “Hello, Damien.”

Damien?

“My name’s Blake.”

The man’s brow furrows. Shit, I look so much like him, just a younger version. He has dark hair, age signs tinting the sides with highlights. He’s easily six foot three, a strong build, and he looks like he keeps in shape. He doesn’t look like the drunken loser my mother always claimed he was.

“Blake, I’m sorry. I sent letters but they went unanswered so I wanted to come here and try in person.”

I blanch, hating myself for showing him any weakness, but truth is I have father issues. When you’re told by your mom that your dad couldn’t flee the town fast enough when he learned about you, and then you got a stepdad who liked to use you as a punch bag, you tend to believe you’re a piece of shit no father could want or love. Fuck them both. I don’t need anything from them to show my worth. He was a coward for leaving his kid, and the other piece of shit wasn’t even worth my thoughts.

“I didn’t get any letters, and you’re trespassing.”

The gentle nod tells me he expected this reaction. “I’m sorry for showing up. I know it’s twenty-five years too late.”

“Twenty six. My birthday was yesterday.”

I haven’t celebrated a birthday since my eighteenth, just let them come and go. Yesterday wasn’t about me. Melody needed me and I was acting like a whipped choir boy with her. Like I’d gotten my dick wet for the first time. She’s the best I’ve ever had but she clouds me in her beauty and light and it’s making me weak.

I actually want to hear his excuse. I want it to be worthy of forgiveness. I want him to tell me he didn’t run and leave me with a twisted, hateful bitch but I also want to let my anger feed me into not giving a shit again so it doesn’t leave this ache in my stomach. She’s making possibilities I didn’t think were ever an option for me, there for the taking and as much as I’m feeling, falling without my own permission, part of me doesn’t want to open myself up to every emotion that goes with it. I sat through a funeral feeling sick with remorse, I spent the nights with a woman I care about wrapped in my arms and now I’m standing in front of my father, wanting him to see the apple of his eye and not the rotten core inside. I feel six not twenty-six and I hate it all, my mind is a jumbled, screwed up mess. It was easier when I didn’t let emotions in. I don’t want to love, I don’t want to feel, I don’t want empathy.

“This is my address. I don’t want to pressure you, but you have siblings who would love to meet you.”

Hell, it’s like a sucker punch straight in my chest. He hands me a slip of paper. “I didn’t know about you, Blake. Until a couple of months ago. I ran into your mom. She was drunk and spilled you out like it was nothing, like she didn’t rob me of a son.” His voice thickens with emotion.

I can’t handle it. I abandon him on the drive, and head into the house. I listen for the roar of his engine and the crackle of the stones under his wheels. I have research to do on him. My mother just keeps coming with her blows. She’s poison, infecting and destroying everything she touches.

I ignore the blinking of the answer phone. Six new messages on the house phone. I know it’s Abby, she’s been blowing up my cell too, but as much as I have all these new emotions swirling around inside me, I still feel nothing for her. Okay, maybe a little shitty for the way I treated her but even that’s a lie. I recognise that the way I treated her was shitty. That’s good enough, right? Fuck it, I really don’t have room to care. I don’t even know myself right now and need sleep.

IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS SINCE I buried my parents. The ache is still there but it isn’t as excruciating. Blake is a part of my everyday life. I live and breathe him. He has days when I think what he’s feeling will almost suffocate him. I find his eyes on me, the look so intense I feel it right down to my soul. He’s affectionate and caring towards me, but our sex is extreme. He unleashes his darker side that lurks in that conflicted part of him. Every day I yearn more for him, I can never see myself tiring of his touch. He has shown me a side of myself I never knew existed, awoke a sexual fiend in me and I love when he brings her out to play. My body is constantly in a state of sexual contentment. The self-defence classes have built my fitness and stamina to rival his and my heart is healing. I’m completely and conclusively in love and it’s so powerful it overcomes me, making me clutch at my chest to hold my heart in place so it doesn’t beat from my chest.

Ryan is acting peculiar, almost possessive of our friendship, demanding my time away from Blake. Sean is making a full recovery but there is a change in him. He refuses to see me and Blake and is going home to his parents to heal. Blake says it’s a normal reaction. He just needs time, so I obey his wishes.

I can’t wait for class to let out; I’m almost bouncing in my seat, my pulse thumping heavily with thoughts of Blake. I need him to sate me before he leaves for a two night trip on police business.

“You’re vibrating, what the hell’s wrong?”

I look at Ryan and bite my lip, embarrassed. “My mind is somewhere else today.”

His eyes study mine and then he rolls them. “Is Blake waiting for you?”

I can’t help the smile as I nod my head.

“You two need to come up for air every now and then.”

I slip my stuff into my bag. “He will be gone for two nights.”

“Good. I say house party while he’s away, let people know.” He doesn’t wait for a response, he’s out of his seat and trotting down the stairs before I’m even on my feet. Blake will go mad if we have a party while he’s away. I feel torn with this kind of stuff because Ry is my friend. I won’t invite or tell Blake, that way I’m neutral, I convince myself, rushing from class.

I’m surprised he isn’t here to pick me up. He has been the last few days. I make my way to his house instead. I step out of my car and halt as a woman comes flying from his house, her face all flushed. She doesn’t acknowledge me as she makes her way to her car. She’s left the door ajar.

I hesitantly push it open, the pit opening up in my stomach. I hate walking into the unknown. Anxiety lives in me and I don’t think it will ever pass. I breathe deeply and step inside. Hearing movement upstairs, I follow it and find Blake coming out of the room he keeps locked, wearing only his jeans. They are slung low on his hips, his torso all toned and delicious, rippling with the movement of him doing up his belt.

My heart is dying even though that proves nothing and I’m being an irrational woman, I can’t help the sick feeling twisting my insides. As if he senses me, his head lifts. His eyes widen then his mouth turns up into a smile. “Hey, I was just coming to get you.” He quickly turns, locking the door.

“Who was that woman, Blake?”

He looks down the stairs then back to me. “A girl I fucked.”

My legs give out. I crumble to the floor, my heart slowing to almost a stop. Did he really just say that like it’s nothing, like it’s okay to be fucking someone else? I feel like I’m in a wind tunnel; there’s a roaring in my ears.

He’s kneels in front of me, laughing. “Puya, I meant used to! God, you could have fallen down the fucking stairs.”

Is he seriously laughing at me? “What?”

His face irons out, his eyes softening. “She’s kind of an ex, I suppose.”

I push his hands away as they reach to stroke a stray tear from my cheek. “You bastard. Why was she here? And what’s in that room?”

His eyes lose their heat. “It’s my office, I’ve told you that.”

I shake my head, thoughts of the flushed girl fleeing, him being half dressed coming out of a room he keeps locked. Oh my God. “It’s a red room, isn’t it?”

His brow furrows. “It’s painted white.”

I stand and he walks to his bedroom with me hot on his tail. “A Christian Grey red room, Blake!”

He grabs a shirt from his dresser, holding it up. “Who is Christian Grey? And, Mel, am I getting dressed or are you going to stop
PMS
ing and get naked?”

I pull my shoe off and throw it at him; he ducks, making it collide with the iPod dock behind him. “You’re a fucking crazy bitch.” He storms over to me, grabbing me by the hair.

I slap at his chest. “Get off me, you asshole.”

He shoves me towards the bed and I land in a heap.

“What’s a red room?” he demands, gripping my foot and pulling my other shoe off as I kick at his bare chest, his shirt abandoned.

“A BDSM room.” I glare.

He squints then bursts into a loud chuckle holding his stomach. My mouth is agape. He composes himself. “You women and your imaginations. Who is this guy and how the hell do you know him?” His humor is gone, his eyes slaying me.

“He’s from a book,” I huff. His posture relaxes and he leans forwards, popping the buttons on my jeans. I slap at his hands, making him growl. “Don’t touch me, Blake. Why was she here?”

Pulling up and away from me he grabs his shirt from the top of the dresser, putting it on. “She came to ask me about you! She has feelings for me but as you know, I don’t feel the same way.”

I sit up, doing up the buttons on my jeans.

His eyes narrow “I can’t be dealing with this jealous bullshit, Melody. If I wanted to be fucking her, I would be, but I’m not. You’re the only one I want and that’s new for me.”

I stalk towards him. “Well, let’s give you a prize for not being a slut and cheating on me like you clearly did her.”

He grabs my arm, stopping my retreat. “I didn’t cheat on her because I’ve never had a woman who was mine before you!”

I need him to tell me what we are. I need to know he feels this as deeply as I do. “Am I yours, Blake?”

Grasping my cheeks he brings his lips down to my mouth, whispering across them. “I know if any other man touches you, I’ll kill him. I know that I never want to be inside another woman when I have your perfection to sink into.”
Well that’s kind of romantic; he just needs to work on his wording.
“Don’t let insecurities infest your mind, Mel. It’s not an attractive quality and I have low tolerance for this woman shit.”

And there he goes and ruins it. “I hate you,” I murmur, feeling defeated.

“No you don’t, you love me and that’s why you’re acting crazy.” He lifts me, throwing me on the bed for second time. “I’m going to fuck that crazy shit right out of you.”

And he does and leaves me sated and naked in his bed.

I wake, groaning from the pleasant ache between my thighs. He left his mark in the form of love bites painting my skin in red and purple blotches up my inner thighs, across my breasts and stomach and his favourite place to leave them - my mound. That was his goodbye before leaving me.

His heavy breaths on top of me is a sound I want to record and listen to over and over. I pull the covers further up my body and jump when I see Ryan staring at me.

“Ryan, I’m naked. What are you doing in here?” He seems to be in a trance. I look at the open door and then at him; he’s holding an object in his hand, his fist grasping it so tight his knuckles are white. I sit up and slowly scoot towards him. It’s a corkscrew.