Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (29 page)

I
want to be a part of you? Where did that come from, fucktard?

I can’t figure out what is it about her that gets me all the time. No, I do. It’s the eyes. Those big, expressive eyes with a unique color that remind me of a lavender-tinted sunset. They play me like a fiddle. When they smile, I smile. The moment Thea’s world crashed by the future plans of the Silver Moon, my world crashed. Guilt, worry, anger, remorse. They all sit on top of my chest as a boulder constricting my airway.

We talk about Thea’s future projects: Edits for Matt, and becoming a receptionist while working toward her counseling license. But I don’t know if either will pay enough to rent an affordable apartment and to cover her other expenses. She might be right. There are other apartments and jobs, but there’s that indescribable need inside me to protect her.

“It’s an amethyst,” Thea says, her deep-set eyes never leaving mine. “The stone of sobriety.”

Thea’s hands wiggle out of my grasp and she touches the butterfly pendant she wears. One that happens to have a smaller version of the crystal I carry.

“That night, a nagging feeling told me you needed to believe in something. Also, that you were losing yourself to alcohol. Some unknown force inside me wanted me to give you that little piece of hope.”

Thinking about that night, I can’t recall many details but her face and the pull she exercised over me. Fuck, even back then that magical energy that swirls between us existed.

“You sound whacky.” I kiss her temple. “But it’s one of those quirks that makes you . . . you. Just today I thought that the herbal-incense scent at your home relaxes me. I’d rather be here in this little space than at my own house.”

“You might change your mind.” Thea studies me, takes my hand, and guides me through the stairs, as if I need assistance or to make sure I don’t get lost. She opens the door to her apartment and gives me another glance. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Yes, Butterfly, I’d love to.” I hold the door open as she walks inside, following behind. The tightness in my chest recedes, but I still have many questions for her, for me, and maybe a few decisions to make.

I continue listening to Thea, incapable of making a sound. I’m dumbfounded about the crazy amount of information she dumped in my lap. Drunk; addict; child star. I did my part by holding her hand while she spoke, clearly lost in her past.

“I never wanted to act. But some guy discovered me. It was the strange tone of blue, close to lilac eyes. The long, curly dark hair. From that moment on, I became the gold mine. Modeling was the name of the game. If I posed for the cameras, I received a prize. For each time I got a job, I received something special. At nine I landed a show. Sophie Knows It All. I hated to act, but I loved that for a day I had a family that pretended to care about me.”

She tips her head and those watery eyes stab my heart, but not one tear makes it through the barrier. How did she become this strong?

“At home they only cared about how much I’d bring after each job. A steady paycheck that financed my parents’ habits. When I became a teenager, Dad decided that maybe I should pose for a different kind of people. I hated it. To numb the pain I used more and more. First it was only alcohol, then ecstasy, and by the age of sixteen I didn’t give a shit about what I drank or shot up my veins. As long as the pain of what my life had become disappeared for those moments. I’m anxious when in public, because I’m scared that someone will recognize me. My father likes to sell both my stories and me to the paparazzi. My first guy was a producer, which granted me a role in a movie. After that, I drank heavier every time I had to . . . do it. Sex and alcohol go together. I no longer drink—or have sex.”

I close my eyes to process everything she said and slowly absorb the last sentences. Bile rises in my throat.
That’s considered rape
. I hold in those words, not wanting to open a can of worms. She already looks like her world is falling apart. I drag my fingers up and down her arm.

“I’m sorry,”
I whisper, “that no one cared for you. That you had to be alone for so long.”

That’s the best I come up with as I work through everything I heard inside my head, while calming myself before I pay Mason Bradley to locate her father. Once I find him, I can shoot him. One bullet for each tear she shed. Lord, I have no fucking idea what’s going to happen; her family is more fucked up than mine. Ending up involved with her might not be smart, but not being with her frightens me more.

“Yes, my background isn’t uplifting or beautiful,” she says, staring at our interlaced fingers, “but I dream that someday I’ll have a bright future, a beautiful family. Maybe like yours?”

“My family?” I huff, shaking my head. “They’re different, that’s for sure.”

He stares at me thoughtfully but remains silent. We have unloaded years of family pain. Our parents and the way we were raised. I hurt for the boy that received a beating each time he didn’t do the right thing. I kiss every place he mentioned was hit by his father after finding out that kissing a boy was as beautiful as kissing a girl. The young man that discovered that being touched by a man was as thrilling as making love to a girl, the same boy who was sent to receive
treatment
to cure him from some freaky disease. “We are soldiers from the same war, aren’t we?”

“Afraid so.” He sprinkles kisses on my shoulder. “I love the butterflies. How many do you have?”

My entire body shivers and there’s an ache between my legs. This can’t and won’t happen. We have to put some distance between us. He’s with Matt. They just don’t know it yet. “The butterflies like you, but keep your lips to yourself, Mr. Cooperson.”

“You are the one who started with the kissing, Butterfly. Remember?”

“The last couple days have been exhausting, soul-draining. Yesterday Matthew and today you.” I toss my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes.

“So that’s why he wanted me here. He feared you might—”

“Fall back into the habit?” I want to be angry with Matt, but I can’t. In fact, I appreciate that he called Tristan. The ambiguity of their presence continues to baffle me—wanting to push them back, while wanting to be with them. I open my eyes, tilting my head toward him. “It’s a daily fear, but I work at it during my every breath. Some days are harder than others. You should head back home.”

“I should, but I can’t. I’ll miss you.”

“I’m . . . Think about Matt.” There’s no real answer to what I am. Flattered, honored, giddy, and so many other things I refuse to accept. Instead I continue my campaign. “You two belong together.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not sure who is more insufferable, you or him.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my gaze. “You’re obsessed about getting Matt and me together. His new idea blew my mind. Want to hear it?”

“Please, enlighten me.” I extend my hand and curl my fingers rapidly as if asking him to hit me with the new crazy idea. He clears his throat, and smirks. “Matt, you, and me. Can you picture it? The perfect love.”

I choke on my own saliva. My breathing increases, but I can’t catch a breath. I place my feet on the ground, and my head between my knees. His hand rubs my back up and down. “Slow down. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now let it out. One, two, three. Butterfly, stay with me. I’ve got you.”

Shit, shit. My brain is shutting down, along with my body. What is wrong with Matthew Decker? The perfect love.
Nothing
is perfect.

“It’s not going to happen, Butterfly, as I don’t believe in relationships of three,” he utters, but I can feel the weight of heartache along with the words. I remain folded, fearing he’ll know there’s a part of me that liked the sound of it. The irrational side, who I won’t let get involved.
I want to be a part of you.
Those were his words only moments ago. If he was aware of what Matt wants, what was he offering when he said that?

As my breathing is under control, I hear his voice. “Remember, I can’t handle being with a man. Also, I wouldn’t come between the two of you. I would never try to take you away from him.” He’s frightened.
He wants me to be with Matt?

“This is stupid.” I finally gather my wits. “We’re friends. I care for you, and as long as we stay out of those crazy ideas Matthew likes to have, we can survive. The three of us together—as friends.”