Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play (8 page)

Silence held for a good five seconds before Carter stifled a laugh. The choked sound broke the tension that laced through the room. Vanessa tipped her head back, laughing outright, which freed the rest of them to do the same.

“Pony play?” Marcus snorted. He smacked Carter on the arm and they both burst into open rounds of deep chuckles. “Do you even know what that is?”

Liv sighed and twirled the ends of her ponytail around her fingers as she leveled an indignant look at the man. “I might hang out with kids all day, but I do know where some people like to put objects bearing long strands of hair at the end.” She flicked her hair at him from between her fingers. “Not to mention the horsehead hood that goes with it.” She glanced around the room. “No offense.”

“Oh, hell.” Vanessa buried her face in her hands.

Rock shook his head, hand rising as he spoke for all of them. “None taken.”

The distress on his face, so contrary to his normal indifference, brought another round of laughter. Marcus sputtered over the words
hair
and
end
behind his hand and Noah chuckled with the lightened atmosphere, some of the stiffness loosening in his neck.

He sat down next to Liv and nudged her knee with his. The knowing smirk she shot his way pulled a full grin out of him when he’d thought it was impossible. He marveled at the ease at which Liv was able to turn the conversation and take the weighty seriousness out of all of them, even for a moment. It was a skill he didn’t have, and he’d never really thought about how valuable it could be.

Marcus wiped the tears from his eyes and choked out an apology. “It must be the stress.”

Vanessa looked up. “She’s just being a smartass.”

Liv winked at her sister but didn’t respond to the obvious bait.

“With that settled,” Noah broke in. He grabbed a file from his briefcase, along with his tablet, and set them on the table. “We have decisions to make and shit to prepare for.”

The gravity returned to the room in a span of a breath. It didn’t escape his notice that he had the opposite effect of Liv. For some reason, it annoyed him right then. When was the last time he’d made someone laugh?

Carter propped his elbows on the table. “Where do we start?”

Good question. Noah clicked his tablet on and scanned the list he’d made. There was a lot to cover and little time to make decisions. The anxiety set uncomfortably in his stomach and had nothing to do with the turkey sandwich he’d consumed from the hospital cafeteria.

“The first thing is anonymity.” He glanced at Vanessa, Marcus and Liv, ignoring their angry glares, and launched one more time into his spiel on why they needed to distance themselves from the club.

Chapter Nine

Six hours later, Noah shuffled through the back door of his house. His shoulders sagged and his head dropped forward in time with a long exhalation the second he stepped into the small entryway. What a fucking day. Or two.

The touch on the center of his back finally got him moving. “Sorry,” he murmured, stepping aside to let Liv into his home.

“No worries.” Her soft smile contained the same weariness that dragged him down. She hung her coat on the empty coat hooks, kicked off her shoes, tossed her bag on the floor, flicked on the kitchen light and disappeared around the corner. He didn’t have the energy to comment on making herself at home. What was the point?

He turned down the hall, cursing when he tripped over her bag and stumbled into the wall. What the—

“Sorry,” Liv called from the kitchen.

He shook his head, but the anger wasn’t there. Shoving away from the wall, he deposited his briefcase on his office desk and his duffel bag, along with Liv’s, on the stairs. A spread of lunch meats, cheeses, condiments and crackers were laid out on the bar when he returned to the kitchen. Liv had her back to him, digging through the drawers.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked, opening the fridge to grab a beer.

“Exhausted,” she said before slamming a drawer closed. “Where’s your cheese cutter?”

He pointed to the next drawer over. “Beer?”

“Please.”

She found the slicer, and he opened the beers, words not needed as he handed her a bottle. His first long drink was heaven and tasted even better when it flowed down his throat. Her deep sigh of satisfaction mimicked his thoughts exactly.

“You don’t have to do this.” He waved at the food then grabbed a slice of salami, contradicting his words.

She chuckled. “I know. But I’m starved, too.”

“I should’ve grabbed something on the way here.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“This’ll work.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and motioned toward the food. “Is there anything else you want?”

He shook his head. “This is great.”

More than, actually. But he couldn’t say that. Just her being there was good when it shouldn’t be. Having a female in the house after four years of living alone should’ve left him unsettled. At the very least, it shouldn’t be so comfortable.

But everything with Liv was that way. She had a way of putting people at ease. The overhead lights were bright, the room sparse with its cold marble counters and dark wood cabinets. Yet with night closing them in, it was somehow cozy with her here.

She set a plate on the bar and waved him to a stool. “Do you want a glass of water, too?” She was already grabbing a glass from the cupboard, completely at home in his kitchen. Like she belonged there. She glanced over her shoulder, brow raised, hand poised on a second glass. “Noah?”

“Sorry.” He pushed the wayward thoughts from his mind. “Sure. Thanks.” What in the hell was he thinking? It had to be the fatigue. That excuse had worked all day, so he might as well stick with it.

She sat down beside him, the stool creaking as she swung her legs under the counter. They filled their plates, her with an array of crackers, meats and cheese while he built a sandwich. Lunch had been hours ago, and his stomach reminded him of that when the heavy scents of the meats reached his nose.

“Is it really going to be okay to close The Den for the rest of the week?”

Her question brought the weight of the day back on his shoulders. He set his sandwich down and rubbed his brow. “It should be fine.”

Should be. They’d debated that topic for over an hour before agreeing to close the doors through the weekend. Cancelling the Halloween party on Saturday would be a financial hit, but the club should be fine if they reopened next week. That was hoping they could open again at all, depending on how persistent the media became.

“Darn it. I’m sorry, Noah.” She rubbed his arm, the connection soothing beyond the touch. The warmth and awareness shot from his arm, through his chest and right to his groin. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

He focused on his sandwich, no longer interested in what he was eating but desperate not to think about her. Liv. Somehow, she’d managed to awaken desires he’d long thought dead. Fatigue. That was all it was.

“It’s fine,” he said before taking a bite of the sandwich, the food tasteless in his mouth. He washed it down with the last of his beer and resisted the urge to grab another. Getting drunk wouldn’t help anything.

“It’s not, but I’ll let it go.” She stacked a piece of meat and cheese on a cracker but stared at it instead of eating it. “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight.” The sincerity in her voice was underscored by a hint of wariness. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not.” He wiped his mouth and hands on his napkin, not hiding but stalling. He spoke the truth though, even if it did shock him. “You’re doing me a favor. I don’t know if I had the energy to drive across town to your place.”

After finalizing the immediate details with the club, he and Liv had headed back to the hospital. Rock and Carter had agreed to stay and meet the employees and members who’d missed the temporary closure notices and showed up to the club. V went to Holden’s game, and Marcus had gone home after they’d finally convinced him it was best for his family.

“I could’ve taken the bus.” The belligerence in her tone had him smiling.

“Right.” He didn’t bother to reinforce that he wouldn’t have allowed it.

“What?” Her spine straightened, the fight turning her dark eyes bright. “I ride the bus every day. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it.”

Damn, she was fierce when fueled by conviction. He’d seen its force levied on others, but today he’d experienced it numerous times and each instance only upped his respect.

“Of course not.” He somehow managed to keep the smirk from his face. She wouldn’t take it right. “But there was no need.” Not when he was there to take care of her.

She eyed him before her shoulders sagged, the fight fleeing with a slow head shake. “Does the world always conform to your wishes?”

“No more than yours.” She might wield her power in a subtler and more persuasive way than he did his, but her approach was just as effective. Maybe more.

“Well...” She popped the cracker into her mouth and chewed, the timed pause was noted with his begrudging approval. She had a flair that pulled people in. Only she didn’t cut them once they were close, unlike his legal counterparts.

He rested his chin on his fist and prompted, “Well?”

She prolonged the moment by taking a drink of water, mischief erasing the tiredness that had been on her face. “I am a bit more charming than you.”

The wiggling eyebrows yanked a burst of laughter from his chest. He couldn’t counter that. His grin was still in place when he reached out to tuck that stray piece of hair behind her ear. Her breath caught as he trailed his fingers down her jaw to cup her chin. “You are,” he found himself admitting. Her openness was so appealing. It was something he’d never been.

Didn’t know how to be.

Her lips parted with the slow caress of his thumb over the silky smoothness of her cheek. The urge to kiss her had him leaning in before he realized what he was doing. Sanity broke in when the heat of her breath gusted over his mouth. He switched directions to land a chaste kiss of comfort on her temple instead.

His pulse hammered in his ears at his almost-error. She didn’t need his attentions when he had nothing to give her. Not after Beth. The bitter taste of failure sat like ash on his tongue.

He let Liv go and started to clear away their dinner. He purposely avoided her gaze—another thing he rarely did—yet he was running on reserves and had little to spare for defense. The day had left him raw, broken in more ways than he could reassemble in his current state.

Together, they put away the food and dishes, the silence broken by the clink of plates and the rush of water from the sink. He ignored the pulse of awareness that inflamed him whenever she brushed past, arm grazing or fingers touching. It burned hotter than before, despite his refusal to acknowledge it.

Task completed, he flicked off the lights, checked the doors and led the way upstairs. He grabbed the bags. The hallway light seemed harsh when he flicked it on, and he resisted the urge to pause and straighten a bowl on the table.

“Here,” he said, turning into the guest bedroom. The mission-style furniture filled the smaller room with its simple grace. He set her bag on the burgundy comforter and turned to see her studying him from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest in an action that was more protective than defensive. Damn, he’d hurt her somehow. Or maybe she was just tired and hurting from the day itself. “The bathroom is down the hall, towels in the cupboard next to it if you want a shower.” He motioned in the direction they’d just come but didn’t move to leave. That would take him past her, and somehow that felt like a confrontation.

She turned around without a word and disappeared down the hall. He’d selected the room farthest from his for a reason. Now he stepped into the hall to see her entering his. What was she doing?

The spark of annoyance that should’ve been there at the invasion of his privacy wasn’t, though. Visions of her naked in his bed replaced any misspent anger. His dick responded, filling to half mast before he doused the image and followed her to his room.

“What are you doing?” he barked, his personal irritation coming out at her.

She turned from her study of the built-in cupboards and drawers that lined the wall next to the door. Her expression was flat, an oddity with her that added another notch to his self-loathing for putting it there.

He rubbed at the pain in his neck, his focus shifting to the geometric pattern of the area rug. He should’ve taken her home. Should’ve dropped her off and left her alone to sort through her sorrow. Or to Vanessa’s. Her sister would’ve taken care of her.

But V was at the hockey game, and his conscience wouldn’t let him just leave Liv—not that he wanted anyone else to care for her either.

“Do you hurt, Noah?”

He whipped his head up, hand dropping to his side when he realized what he’d been doing. “I’m fine,” he deflected. “Did you want something?” He waved at the built-ins. “A shirt to sleep in?”

“I mean inside,” she said, stepping closer to lay a hand over his heart where it beat too fast. The touch seared his skin through his sweater. “Here. Do you hurt here?” Her gaze drilled into his to dig at old wounds and soothe recent ones.

He choked back the immediate rush of emotions that constricted his throat. Of course he hurt, damn it. They all did. Was he that much of an ass that she had to ask him? He stepped around her, his anger clutched tightly. Anything he said would come out wrong.

“Noah?” She grabbed his arm, her grip tightening when he glared at her. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“What?” He yanked his arm free. “You think I need your approval to feel pain? To know what sorrow is? Trust me. I don’t. I know exactly what it feels like to lose someone you love. I know how it rips your heart out and leaves you empty.” He fisted the material covering his heart. “I know all of this, so you don’t have to tell me it’s okay to hurt.”

Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t back away. Not even an inch. And in her expression was the compassion he’d failed to give her.

Oh, God. He stepped back, appalled by his actions.
I
am an ass
. Disgust clenched at his chest with its sick bite of truth. Misery sucked the strength from his legs and he sank to the bed to bury his face in his hands. Those were his ghosts, his crosses to bear. Not hers or anyone else’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice coarse from the grit in his throat. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I get it,” she responded just as softly. “We’re all hurting.”

“That’s an excuse,” he bit out, rubbing at his temples. “It doesn’t justify me yelling at you.”

There was a touch to his shoulder, and he squeezed his eyes closed against the tide of warmth that rushed through him. She ran her hand down his arm, a trail of goose bumps following it. Every nerve ending was aware of her again. Of her standing before him, kneeling, grasping his wrists.

He swallowed, afraid to look. He could admit that to himself. His muscles ached under the strain to hold still. No one had kneeled at his feet since Beth. Not even at The Den, where he avoided the dungeon or any submissive who tried to get his attention.

Now Liv was here, unintentionally doing the one thing that would break him. If he lifted his head, would he see Beth’s face? Remember how she’d been? How much she’d needed him? How he’d failed her?

“You can cry,” she said, her voice cracking on the words, her hands trailing down from his wrists to stop at his thighs. “Then I can, too.”

Shit. He clenched his teeth against the need to let go. To let the dam burst free on everything he’d been holding back, but he didn’t know if he’d survive if he did. His jaw throbbed, his teeth protested and it was all for nothing when her soft sniff reached him.

He couldn’t deny her. Not the comfort she sought or the refuge she offered. He forced himself to open his eyes, lift his head and see the woman before him. It wasn’t Beth at all. Not the warm brown eyes or the vulnerability stuffed behind the indomitable will or the red lip that quivered between the teeth that held it. This was Liv.

Strong, giving Liv.

With a trembling hand, he guided her head to his lap and let the dam shatter with everything else in his life.

* * *

Liv clung to Noah as her tears fell. The ones she’d tried to suppress and control all day pooled from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. Instead of the gush of remorse she’d expected, there was only a silent slide of grief. It drained from her in a slow siphon that bled the wretched day from her bones.

Noah’s hold on her nape was warm and solid, like the leg beneath her cheek and the press of his other hand on her back. He was alive. Here. He’d been there for her all day, like she’d been for him. An unlikely pairing, but he’d become her anchor. Did he know that? He was everyone’s anchor.