Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (20 page)

I shrug, stopping myself from telling her more. I don’t want to talk about the shit. It did hurt, because the event not only took away my privacy, it also hurt my family. Stupid Martin Levitz. He’s the former drummer of Dreadful Souls. Chris’s old band. The man tried to sue WAC because we included a few covers of their former band on our second album. It was with my father’s permission, but that didn’t matter. Martin Levitz took legal action against us, and even when we won the battle against him, he cracked our family by outing the so-called Decker twins. AJ hated that Chris recognized us in public and left her out. She cut ties with my parents because of that and other issues she carried. A couple years later my parents separated. The ripple effect of his actions almost destroyed what's sacred to me—my family.

“I'm sorry.” Thea’s face drops slightly, and her eyes don't meet mine. “That must've been difficult, to find a new way to live after someone disturbed your privacy.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about,” I say, my arms wanting to envelop her inside a cocoon to protect her from the obvious sadness she feels. I can't though as she takes a step backward.

“Thea, time to go home. You had an exhausting day. We’ll close without you,” Reed shouts from the background. “Decker, time to finish cleaning and have a talk about next week.”

“Butterfly, I'll be up there in a few. We have to talk about the gig.” She pinches the bridge of her nose while biting her lips. I wait for her to work out whatever she's contemplating. “Only for a couple of minutes.”

“Only a few minutes,” she repeats, her words barely sounding out of her lips. Thea turns around, heading toward Reed who gives her a hug and whispers something to her. Once he's done, she leaves with one of the bouncers following behind.

“Eyes off the girl, Decker.” Reed pulls me away from the ogling trance. It’s not only because I’m attracted to her body. I stare trying to understand why the sudden change of mood. “I talked to my old bartender. He’s not coming back. We need to work a schedule. I have to search for what I want to do next before I let this bar go.”

“I’ll talk to Tristan. How long do you think you need?”

“Do you want me out already, boy?”

“No, it’s just so we can plan.” I pat his shoulder. “Take as long as you need, Reed.”

His gaze drops to the floor. He shakes his head and lifts it again. Sadness clogs his eyes, and I give him a hug before either one of us speaks. “And if you have second thoughts we’ll understand.”

“Give me at least three months, and if I need more time I’ll let you know.”

I squeeze his arm and nod. “Let’s sit down and try to come up with a schedule for the time being.”

I
clean the steam on the mirror and check myself one more time. My eyes aren’t as red as they were before I showered. The dry tears and sadness washed away by the water. Sadness brought by the memories of having my life plastered in public by my own parents. Not having a moment to myself since . . . I can’t remember a time in my past when I didn’t have to smile for the cameras and be pleasant. That sweet girl who had to play along to get some attention from her parents. The same parents who loved to make easy money and exploit any event, even if it meant exploiting their own child.

They say there’s no stronger force than a parent’s love. The unconditional love, where two people or maybe just one keeps you secure, safe, and cared for. I never had that kind of love. If anything, my father is the person I fear the most. The one who at any chance pushed me further and further until I became . . . Aggie Levitz. The former child star that became a wild teenager. According to the media that hounded me day and night, I was arrested several times for possession of controlled substances, underage drinking, and a hit and run. My lungs burn, my ears fill with blood, and I can’t breathe.

I close my eyes, controlling the wave that’s threatening to take me down one more time. Another panic attack in less than an hour. I’m thankful I controlled it downstairs in front of Matt. That it didn’t happen until I closed the door behind me. The urge to forget for one night grows by the minute. If I wait long enough, the bar will be closed and I can break into it. There’s plenty of Vodka to tame the increasing longing . . . or I can walk a few blocks down to the alley where I know there’s a guy that can sell me a painkiller—pot or cocaine. I shake my head, knowing I’ll regret losing myself for one night. Five years. I can keep fighting until I reach the next milestone—tomorrow.

My breathing slows down, my chest loosens up, my legs regain their strength, and I’m able to let go of the sink. I’m not my parents. I have a few reasons to stay afloat. It’s the hope of a better day, the hope that someday someone will be there for me. That I’ll find a place where I belong, and will be loved because of who I am. It won’t matter who I once was.

My eyes snap open with the sound of the doorbell.

My heart skips a few beats, like it just knows it’s Matt.

Against my better judgment, knowing that fighting with what’s right and what I enjoy is also playing into this moment of self-doubt, I finish dressing and open the door for him. That smirk grows the moment our eyes meet; my legs wobble a little while my heart sighs for him.

“Took you long enough to open,” he says. I take a step backward letting him inside the hallway. “I was beginning to think that you forgot about me.”

“Nah, I needed a quick shower.” I shut the door, turn around, and lead the way upstairs to my place. “Want some water?”

Matt closes the gap between the two of us and his emotional blues try to interlock with my eyes. I glance over at the coffee table full with crafts. “You okay?” He lifts my chin achieving that eye-to-eye, soul-to-soul connection I tried to avoid only seconds ago. “Something happened before you left that put that lovely smile out of commission for the night. It’s weird, but it’s not settling well in here.” He touches his chest.

“I’m tired, had a shitty day, and your story sounded . . . sad.”
Wow. You sound pathetic and stupid, Thea.

“Shitty?” He releases my chin and scratches his head. “How so? I think we had a good time at the bar and your earnings for the night were huge—not counting what they left in credit card tips. What happened, Butterfly?”

Those intense eyes dig inside my soul and I have to think fast before he learns more about me. That part I hide from everyone who doesn’t recognize me. The part I’m ashamed of, the part where he learns I’m not Thea Dennis by birth. That my full name is Agatha Catherine Levitz. The daughter of former friend and drummer of DS, Martin Levitz. When I turned eighteen and after leaving the rehab facility, I legally changed my name to Agatha Dennis. For now I prefer to keep every little piece of my past hidden. If he knew any or all I bet he wouldn’t give me a second glance.

“Dr. O’Neal decided to stop being my counselor supervisor,” I blurt out for the first time since the asshole told me he couldn’t jeopardize his own license on someone like me. “I need fifty-three more hours before I can apply for my license.”

“Counselor?” He cocks an eyebrow as he tilts his head. “What kind of counselor, like a shrink?” I nod. “You’re a shrink?” I bite my lip and nod. “Are you able to counsel with a minor in psych?”

I let out some air, I’m so stupid. Hiding a part of me is revealing yet another part. “No. I have a master’s degree and a doctorate. I specialized in addictions.”

My entire body is covered with clothes, yet I’m bare, open, and scared that he can see through me. He rubs his stubble as he looks at me with that deep glare, continuing to study me. I want to run away, push him out, or . . . for the first time, let someone into my life. It’s so freaking cold inside that maybe if I allow him in, it’ll warm me up a little. It would be nice to have a friend to share shit with, wouldn’t it?

“My pretty butterfly is a smart chick,” he chides with a wide grin. “So you need a shrink to help you get some hours, or something?” I nod. “Let’s focus on the Nix books. I have an entire manuscript waiting on an MP3 file for you to type, edit, and make sure is ready to publish.”

We spend some time discussing what he wants me to do, how much he plans on paying me, and at the end says the strangest thing. “Email me your résumé. I might be able to help you, or find someone who can help.”

“I—” He places a finger on top of my lips. I laugh and push it off. “I don’t think it’s necessary. I can search for someone else. It’ll take me some time, but there’s always someone who’s willing to give a hand to a young counselor.” Maybe next time I shouldn’t disclose my background, unless asked.

“Humor me.” He winks at me. “The worst that can happen is not getting you any help.” No, the worst will be him learning everything that's wrong with
me
. “I have to go, Butterfly. Send that over soon. I’ll have the file sent to you by noon.” Matt brushes some strands of hair behind my ear and kisses my cheek. “Have a good night.”

The faint sound of the phone wakes me up. I extend my arm to answer it without checking first who’s calling me.

“Matthew, can you explain that résumé you sent over?” My father’s growl comes through the phone. I try to scrub the sleep out of my eyes while checking the alarm clock. Damn him! He always seems to call when I am dead asleep. “A ‘check out this résumé’ did fucking nothing for me. You do know I plan to run a serious practice, right? What am I supposed to do with someone who has zero experience?”