Seth (Damage Control #3) (12 page)

Damn, I hadn’t realize he was so strong.

It’s warm in here, I decide, sweeping my hair over one shoulder and slowing to a halt. And I shouldn’t be staring at Seth—at those ridiculously long lashes, that full mouth, the studs glinting in his ears, the shiny dark hair that grazes his brow.

Why can’t I look away?

He shifts in his chair as the song ends and relative quiet spreads. Bending slightly over, he reaches down to massage the muscle above his knee. His movements are slow. He seems…

“He’s exhausted,” someone says somewhere to my right, and turning I see Evangeline, Micah’s girlfriend, and a wild-haired girl I don’t know. “Just look at him, Kayla. Concussion, can you believe it? After all he’s been through this year. It’s awful.”

No doubt who they’re talking about. They glance in Seth’s way, then look quickly away once more.

“The guy needs a break,” Evangeline goes on, sipping at her beer. “He lost his job when he broke his leg, and Micah’s scared he’s spiraling.”

“The boys wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” Kayla says. “They look after their own. See how they came through with Jesse. And Micah.”

“Yeah. I’m just worried.”

Now so am I. But another song begins, the music engulfing their voices, and when I turn back toward Seth, he’s gone.

I stare for a long moment, uncomprehending, until I see him at the makeshift bar, a long table loaded with bottles, leaning against his walking aid. He’s really tall, and boy, that muscular back is so sexy.

Okay, what?
I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp, realize nobody would hear it anyway, and will the music to drown out my strange thoughts.

I’m not attracted to Seth. I don’t want him that way. I want Fred.

As if summoned, Fred comes at me through the crowded shop, smiling. Whatever had him stressed earlier seems to have been resolved.

Yet whatever happened between us outside, that almost kiss that wasn’t really one, is still hanging between us. At least
I
feel it. I feel embarrassed, inadequate. Lacking.

Must be only me, though, because Fred, if anything, is even more touchy-feely than usual. I squawk in surprise when he grabs my hand and pulls me to him, then wraps an arm around me.

“Hey, Madeline. Shall we go?”

“Go? So soon?”

“The guys I rehearse with? They’re going to another place, quieter and with good wine. You’ll like it. Much better than this loud party.”

“I like it here.”

He stares at me in silence, the music dying around us as another song comes to an end. “You sure?”

I nod and look away from his wounded expression—only to find Seth’s eyes locked on me. He’s watching us, his bottle of beer forgotten in front of him. His eyes are pitch dark, and his hand is fisted on the bar, the knuckles white.

A twist of my shoulders and I pull away from Fred’s hold. “Yeah, I’m sure. I didn’t know the party would be here. I want to talk to Rafe Vestri, the drummer, about physical education. I think Asher and Dylan have sports scholarships, too, and they may give me some pointers.”

And Seth is still watching us, watching
me
, his gaze sending heat up my neck.

“As you prefer,” Fred says, pushing his arty black glasses back on his nose. “I’ll take a cab, no problem. Give me a call if you change your mind.”

I nod again. What am I doing? This is the guy I’m crushing on, and a week ago I’d have given my right arm to go out with him—with friends or alone. Anything to hear him say he likes me, like he did tonight, to have his arm around my shoulders.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fred shrugs and walks away, vanishing among the people.

And when I turn back around, Seth is gone, too.

Seth

Goddammit.
I had a buzz going on, but it’s fading fast.

Can’t take this any longer. Scraps, okay. I said I’ll take them. Fucking said so. Take whatever I’m allowed to take, but this… Watching her with her boyfriend, watch as they hold each other and banter and make plans… No fucking way.

That’s pure masochism and dammit, I’ve got enough aches to go around without hurting myself on purpose, too.

Hurting inside my chest. Feels like there’s a band of steel tightening around my heart, pressing deep. Which is stupid. Makes no sense. I just want her, her tits, her ass, her long legs, her tight pussy. Her mouth wrapped around my dick. That’s all there is to my desire for her.

Okay, Seffers? We good? All clear?

Fuck, yeah.
Just waiting for the ache in my chest to ease, for my lungs to expand and let in some air. For the urge to bash her boyfriend’s face in to pass.

Shit.
I’ve left my walking stick somewhere in my rush to put distance between them and myself and now I’m staggering like a drunkard, my knee shooting warning twinges up my leg as I head toward the exit.

Too many people. As I push between them, a guy shoves back. I stumble, almost lose my footing and faceplant, catching myself in the last second. Pain shoots up my legs, both of them, and my head throbs just as badly as my chest.

It infuriates me even more. It’s the last straw to this evening from hell. I’m drowning, can’t take any more. I need a goddamn break.

Fuck it.

I barrel into the guy, grab him as much for balance as for anything else, and he crashes into the couple behind him. We both crash, ’cuz he takes me down with him, flailing, and I land on top of him.

More pain. More fucking pain, and I can’t take it any longer. I draw my fist back to punch his face, and I’m vaguely aware I’ve totally lost it. Given in to the craziness holding my whole existence in its grip, as it all comes crashing down on top of me—my mother returning from the dead, my injuries old and new, and Manon… Manon.

My moment of hesitation proves a mistake. The guy ain’t amused. He throws me off him and I land awkwardly, rolling on my side. He’s instantly on top of me, but I manage to catch his fist before it rearranges my face. He leans in, panting and glaring, and chaos erupts around us as the guests finally realize there’s a fist fight happening.

Right in the middle of the Damage Control Expansion party. Rafe and Zane will have my balls on a fucking plate for this.

The guy manages to land in a weak punch with his other hand, and I twist my hips, throwing him off me. Guess Rafe’s self-defense lessons are paying off, I think, and swing my fist into his face, landing a good one.

“Stop! Seth, stop.” A hand on my shoulder, tugging me backward, a voice that hooks right into my brain and eases the strange ache in my chest. “What are you doing?”

I let her pull me back, still hooked on the sound of her voice, unable to answer, ’cuz there is no real answer. I’m not sure what I’m doing—haven’t been sure since ever. Just coasting along, trying to keep afloat. To keep from sinking.

Nobody is keeping the other guy from coming after me, though, and he scrambles up and after me.

Someone stops him, inserting himself between us, a solid wall of a man, and I stare at Asher’s back in shock. He’s been working out all right. He barely flexes a muscle as he keeps the enraged guy in check and calmly turns toward me.

“You okay, buddy?” He gives me a quick once-over, pale wolf-eyes dark with anger. “What the hell was this about?”

Fucking embarrassing, it’s what this is, so distracted that I need rescuing.

“Nothing,” I mutter, the warmth of Manon’s small hand searing through the thin cotton of my T-shirt, branding my shoulder. Why is she still here? I thought her long gone by now, with her boyfriend.

The word is like a splinter in my mind.

Ash nods, turns back to the guy who’s being dragged back by his own friends and stares until they back away.

Need to practice a glare like Ash’s.

Also need to fix my knee, manage to walk without a limp and regain some of my strength, because frankly this is ridiculous. Need to turn things about, find a job, finish my training, get well… get over her.

Get a goddamn
life
.

Ash reaches for me. “Let’s get you up.”

I jerk away, knocking back into Manon who’s knelt down behind me. “I’m okay.”

He’s not fooled. His eyes darken and nostrils flare, and he sucks in a sharp breath, but he lets it go, thank God. “Fine.”

I’m held back by a thread—by a small hand on my shoulder, a touch that shouldn’t fucking happen, that means nothing to her and everything to me.

“The guys will be going on to Halo for drinks,” Ash is saying. “You two,” his gaze flicks over me to Manon, “should come along.”

“Oh, I can’t—” she begins.

“Not tonight,” I say with finality. My muscles are twitching, my hands are shaking, my head hurts and I can’t think straight with her so close. “I’m gonna hit the sack, I think.”

“Need help—?”

“No.” A pang of remorse hits me at cutting him off like this, ’cuz Ash and the brotherhood has always looked out for me, like he just did, and he doesn’t deserve my rudeness—but hell, I hope he can cut me some slack tonight before I fall apart completely. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sure, man.” He shrugs, cuts another look at Manon and backs away. “Call me if you need anything. Take care.”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” Manon says, and I’m too tired to argue with her.

Too exhausted to fight fate, even if tonight for the first time in years I would.

***

Finding my walking stick in the chaos that is the party is an impossible mission, so I end up with my arm around Manon’s slender shoulders as I hobble out of the shop. She insists she can take it, and it really seems she can. I keep forgetting how much strength is hidden in that slender frame.

The fresh evening air slaps my face, takes off the edge. Lets me breathe more freely and let go of my helpless anger—for now. Hard to be angry when I’m pressed to her, her sweet curves melting into my harsh angles. Easier to forget myself for a while, imagine I deserve this, deserve
her
, and that she wants me back.

Easier not to think at all, to let her guide me to her car, help me inside and drive me home. I stare blindly out the window as we enter Saturday night traffic, thinking how perspective is everything. A year ago, recently released from prison, living on the street, I’d have given everything for what I have now. I’ve have given anything for Shane to be spared the pain, to find a home. Even if it meant I had to stay behind.

Now here I am, with an apartment to return to at night, with a dream of becoming a tattoo artist—if I ever manage to stay long enough out of the hospital to fucking finish my training—and friends. Brothers. Shane is fine, or seems fine on the outside at least, we are both healthy—mostly—and here’s a pretty girl driving me home.

I should be grateful. Optimistic. Full of hope. Fucking
happy
.

Instead I find myself drowning in the dark. Reliving my past every night in nightmares. And wishing for what I can’t have.

“Will you tell me what happened at the party?” she asks.

We stall at a traffic light, and I glance her way, catching her gaze on me. Her eyes look black in the dimness, the greens and golds lost in the night.

I turn back to the uninteresting view outside. “He shoved me. I lost it.”

I feel her gaze linger on me, a warm touch. “This isn’t like you.”

“What isn’t?” Losing it? Because yeah, it’s been a while since I lost control like that.

The traffic light changes, and she puts the car into gear. “It isn’t like you to look so sad.”

I start, shocked. Try to hide it. Try not to turn to look at her, read her face. “I’m not sad.”

“You’re not smiling, either.”

“I can’t.” I’m not even sure what I’m telling her. I can’t smile? Can’t talk about it? Can’t be here with her?

“I hate seeing you sad,” she says, and fuck, this is too much for me tonight.

Why is she pretending to care? She didn’t call since the morning she left my apartment, didn’t visit. I need… something. My eyes ache, blurring my vision, and I can’t breathe. I lift my hand, rub my chest. What the hell’s happening to me?

Thank God we’ve arrived. I throw the car door open before the car even comes to a halt and lever myself up and out. Out of there, far from her where I feel things I don’t understand, where I want her in every possible way and can’t have her at all.

“Seth!” I hear her climbing out of the car and coming after me as I make my way to the building, but damn, I need five seconds to pull myself together before I thank her for the ride.

Just five seconds. Just a moment to catch my breath.

But before I can, her hand is on my arm and my lungs lock up again. My breath hitches. I turn, slip my hand around her waist, pull her to me. I feel like I’ll fucking die if I don’t get to kiss her, to hold her.

If she turns around now and leaves.

She doesn’t. Instead she leans into me, sighing softly, and time stops. Her soft breasts press into my chest, her head rests on my shoulder, and the night fades around us—the buildings, the street, the cars, the stars. I inhale the scent of her hair and my chest loosens, my heart calms.

But it’s over too soon.

“Let’s get you upstairs.” She pulls away, avoiding my gaze, breaking the fragile illusion.

***

Anger helps me climb the stairs with less trouble than usual. Of course my knee is better now, too. Less swollen and painful.

If she’d had to help me, I’d be fucking mortified. She’s helped me enough. I can do this on my own.

Can you, now? Goddamn liar.

I grind my teeth and fish in the pocket of my jeans for the door keys. The brief moment I held her against me only serves to haunt me. To mock me with all the possibilities even if I know they aren’t fucking
real
.

Focus on what’s real, Seffers.

Monday I got an interview for a job at a fast food joint. The odds are good. Plus, now my leg’s better, I should go back to training at Damage. Maybe take Rafe up on his offer to help me exercise, strengthen the muscles above my bad knee.

This is good. This is what I need.

I push the door open and hobble into the dimness of my apartment. It’s cold. Empty. I stop by the worn couch and turn toward her. She’s standing right inside the door, her expression unreadable. She glances back at the stairwell.