Scared of Forever (Scared #2) Read online

  “Hi,” I say with uncertainty. I’m fairly sure Blake takes issue with me talking to his brother. Especially with him looking so positively post-coital. I’m also fairly sure that I don’t give a damn.

  “Just finished my run, and I’m heading out for coffee. Care to join?” he asks with a smile.

  “I’d love to,” I reply politely, “but I have to get to work.” I work hard to keep my distance from him.

  “Perfect, we’ll grab one on the way. If you walk, that is? Do you walk to work?” he asks persistently.

  I consider saying ‘no’ and catching a cab, but Tyler looks so genuine that I reply, “I do, but I need a few minutes.”

  “So do I,” he says, gesturing at the wet white tank that clings to his toned and profusely sweaty chest. I silently scold myself for all the impure thoughts that filter through my mind as I look upon this very well built man.

  Closing the door quickly, I put on black pants and a tank top with a black cardigan, apply the little makeup I wear, and slip on my ballet flats before walking out into the corridor. Surprisingly, when I open the door, Tyler is already there, waiting.

  “Did you even use soap?” I jibe.

  “Always,” he says, offering me a dazzling smile. And reintroducing me to his left-sided dimple. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  I feel strangely comfortable with Tyler, even though I probably shouldn’t. Before long, the tension that I felt earlier eases as we walk, coffees in hand, to the beauty salon.

  “Really!” I laugh, “Blake really had braces, a retainer, and teenage acne?”

  “Yep,” Tyler laughs. “He looked like his face was a train track running through the Rocky Mountains.” He takes a swig of his coffee.

  I smile. Tyler is the only person who has volunteered any information about Blake that was not a snide opportunity to antagonize me. The man is a complete and utter gentleman. But it’s his eyes. His eyes are so sincere. I like looking at them. It’s dangerous, but I do.

  “What about you? What made you leave a nice, quiet country town and come out here?” he asks, staring up with dismay at the monstrously ugly buildings surrounding us.

  “My mother passed away when I was fifteen. Then it was just my sister, my dad and I. Until he died of a heart attack about six months ago.” I choke back tears, the memory of my father’s death still so raw and real. “My sister took off about a year ago with her boyfriend. I haven’t heard from her since.” The truth is, I miss my baby sister. I wish she would have stayed with me. But she was always so defiant and headstrong. I was always the even-tempered daughter, the one who did what she was told and managed the house. The responsible one. “So basically I had no reason to stay there anymore.”

  “Wow, you came here alone? That’s brave,” Tyler says, with genuine respect. “I hope that you remember to keep that independence alive, even though you’re marrying my brother.”

  “What do you mean? That’s why I still work. I’m not interested in Blake’s money, or the family’s,” I defend, slightly irritated at the allusion.

  “I don’t mean that. I mean, you shouldn’t ever be just Blake’s wife, or Eliza Carson’s daughter in law, or some average wife on the society page of the paper,” Tyler says. “It’s easy to get sucked into this world. From the outside, it looks awesome. On the inside though, well, it’s just an ugly place. Believe me, I have firsthand insight.”

  “Why do you care so much? What is the deal with you and Blake, and you and your mother, for that matter?” I ask, increasingly curious.

  Tyler shrugs his shoulders lazily. “Firstly, it’s because you seem like a nice girl, and I’m trying to look out for you. That’s it, I swear. I know my family, and all about how they are. And secondly, Blake and I fought over a girl. Eliza and I don’t speak because I chose to be a freelance photographer instead of becoming yet another Dr. Carson, refused to date her friends’ daughters, and— some other things.”

  Great, now the other brother was being evasive, too!

  I turn my head towards the nearest shop front and don’t recognize the intersection at which we are currently standing.

  “Shit!” I exclaim. “I think we missed the beauty salon.”

  “Okay, how far back?” Tyler asks, turning and looking back over his shoulder.

  “A couple of blocks,” I say.

  “Really?” he laughs. “I was that entertaining, huh?”

  “Get over yourself!” I reprimand.

  Tyler says farewell as we finally reach the beauty salon. I walk in, and nearly run into Mac and Janie, both salivating behind the glass door.

  “Who the hell is that?” Mac asks, his voice rising with an excited lilt.

  “Oh, that’s just Tyler, Blake’s baby brother,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Shut up! Are you screwing both brothers?” Mac exclaims. “You little tramp, I had no idea you were like that!”

  “What? No! He was walking this way, that’s all,” I say quickly. So I embellished the truth a little. I wonder, ever so briefly, if I did that because I felt like I was betraying Blake, or because I didn’t want to deal with twenty questions from Mac, or simply because I didn’t want to admit to myself that, in all the months that I had been here, that that was the best and most honest conversation I’d had.

  Later on, Janie reluctantly agrees to let me off to an extended lunch break to meet up with Maia and Jackson. Since I lost the bet to Mac yesterday, I had three extra Brazilians to do. Luckily, he took pity on me and agreed to cover them if I brought him back a Crème Brule frappe from his favorite café.

  Killing two birds with one stone, I text Maia to ask them to meet me there.

  When I arrive, they’re already inside, curled into each other in one of the booths. Maia is casually tracing small circles on Jackson’s chest, while his hand rests leisurely on her thigh. They are the cutest couple I have ever met. Just made for each other.

  All my life, this was the kind of love I had dreamed of, one filled with comfort and ease. The ability to just exist with each other in perfect synchronicity.

  “Hi, guys,” I greet, smiling as I settle into the chair opposite them. “Blake couldn’t be here, he had to work. He said to apologize to you guys.”

  “No problem,” Maia says brightly. “We love you just as much.” She stands and leans over to give me a brief but warm hug. “How are you guys doing? Wedding date set yet?”

  “No,” I say hesitantly, before looking up to give the waitress my order. “You guys may just beat us to it!”

  “Not likely,” Jackson says looking sweetly at Maia. “We’re happy like this for now.”

  Maia and Jackson talk animatedly about Brown, about her charity work, and life in general. I smile politely, and answer when required. But mostly, I stare down absently at the table in front of us.

  “Is everything okay, Em? You don’t seem like yourself,” Maia observes softly.

  I don’t really know if I want to talk about this in front of Jackson. But like the gentleman he is, he sees my hesitation and excuses himself to go to the men’s room.

  “Okay, now speak,” Maia commands gently after he leaves. “Are you getting cold feet?”

  “Did you ever feel like Jackson was not the person you thought he was? Like before he met you he had a whole other life, and not a good one?” I ask cautiously.

  “He did,” Maia replies simply. “But there was never a minute that I didn’t truly feel like he really loved me. Even in the moments where I didn’t believe it myself. I see the way Blake looks at you. He clearly loves you. But I get the sense that you’re a little unsure about you guys.”

  “I know he loves me,” I say. “But there are just all these little things that I can’t seem to explain away. Did you know he had a brother, who I met last night? Apparently, they hate each other because of a girl. And his mother said something weird about striking while the iron is hot, in case he gets away. And his brother said something about him owning the apartment we live in, when he to
ld me that it was his mother’s. And I swear to God, this morning I saw a new tattoo on his back, when he told me he was working late. I’m pretty sure the hospital doesn’t issue tattoos as part of their benefit package!”

  I realized that my voice had spiked at the end, and I had barely taken a breath. But soon, it all comes pouring out. The status of Blake and my relationship, which, two days ago was good, relegated to a few speculative and angry sentences.

  Maia doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, letting me breathe. “Em, everything you just said came from the mouth of someone else. Except for the tattoo thing. Wait, Blake has other tattoos?”

  It relieves me to hear that Maia knows nothing about Blake’s tattoos. It means that they never slept together. At least he didn’t lie about that.

  “Maybe you should ask him,” she suggests. “Just come right out and ask.”

  “And if I’m wrong? Blake is all I have here. I have no family left at home, or anywhere else, really. Without Blake, I truly am alone in this world.” A single tear falls down my left cheek. I refuse to cry any further. I just… refuse.

  “And that’s why you want to torture yourself, wondering?” Maia asks. “You have friends. You have me, and Jackson. If Blake is lying to you, I promise that you can rely on us. I won’t take his side if he hurts you deliberately.”

  Maia’s words warm me. And now I have Tyler. The thought invades my mind without warning. I quickly flick it aside. “Thank you,” I whisper, just as Jackson returns to the table. The rest of lunch ambles along leisurely. I relax into their company, so grateful for a down to earth conversation. No pomp or arrogance or worrying about political correctness.

  When it’s time to get back to work, I reluctantly say goodbye to Maia and Jackson. Maia gives me a fierce hug. “I’ll call you soon,” she whispers, before they leave, hand in hand.

  Chapter 7:

  Blake

  My left knee shakes violently against the middle console of the car as I drive in to the hospital. Emily’s questions unnerved me. The tattoo, the apartment. It was too much of a coincidence to come up all in one morning. If Tyler had anything to do with it, I swear I just may fucking kill him. She’s mine. They are both mine. He knows how possessive and jealous I am. The fucker is probably just trying to rattle my cage. And I’m letting him.

  Sitting in traffic this morning irks me much more than usual. I slam my hand against the horn impatiently, my foot itching to ram against the accelerator. So this is what the descent into madness feels like.

  Walking into the hospital, I send a text message.

  Sorry baby, I can’t see you for a few days. Things are not so great at home.

  I hit send. Aria won’t reply. She’ll be good and pissed when she reads it. I sigh and shove the phone back into my pocket, praying that today is crazy busy at the hospital, just so I can take my mind off of the rest of my life.

  I get my wish. The ER is chaos, and I’m very grateful. I barely have time to breathe, let alone think. I do agree to meet Chayse for lunch, since I blew him off this morning. Upon entering the cafeteria, I see him, as usual, punching another random number into his phone. I shake my head, in both exacerbation and envy.

  He manages to tear his eyes from the blonde nurse he’s chatting up, nods, and walks over to an empty table, where I join him.

  “You need to quit playing games and work,” I say.

  “I am working. See that, she needs a security escort to her car later. That’s what I was doing,” Chayse replies with a grin.

  “Whatever,” I say, eyeing the counter, not even the slightest bit hungry.

  “Everything okay, man?” Chayse asks, with as much sympathy as two grown ass men having a conversation will allow.

  “Yeah, just Emily, and this wedding thing, and my mother—” I lie, with a perfectly straight face. I’m getting so good at deceiving people. It’s starting to feel wrong, even to me.

  Just as Chayse is about to reply, my phone rings on the table. My mother’s name flashes across the screen.

  “Oh look, there’s Lilith, the original she-demon now. I’m gonna go grab lunch,” Chayse quips before standing and walking over to the counter. Chayse has an intense dislike for my mother, and the feeling is mutual on her end.

  “Hello,” I say tiredly.

  “Blake, I transferred the funds over at your request. Did you get them?” Eliza asks.

  No ‘hello, how are you?’ No ‘just checking to see that your life isn’t falling to shit’. “I haven’t checked,” I say shortly.

  “I hear your brother is back in town,” she says curtly.

  “Yeah, I saw him yesterday,” I say, my anger instantly reigniting.

  “And—?” she asks.

  “And, he’s still the same little punk that he was two years ago,” I say shortly, not wanting to expand on the statement at all.

  “Blake, need I remind you that everyone is expecting a wedding shortly? My son, and his fiancée, Emily. Remember our deal. Don’t think I don’t know where my money goes. Emily is a far better choice for you. And I won’t support you or your marriage to anyone else,” my mother says cattily. I know exactly what she means. Who she means.

  “What did you say to Emily at lunch yesterday?” I ask.

  “I just tested her a little. She passed, since she hasn’t left you,” she replies.

  “Yet,” I say. “She was asking a lot of questions this morning.”

  “Well, just keep her happy, keep the rest of your affairs in order, and keep her away from your brother. The last thing I want to deal with is another colossal mess due to some juvenile rivalry.” she says sternly before ending the call.

  I toss the phone onto the table and lean back in the chair, running my hands through my hair. Now I really have lost my appetite. I still haven’t received a reply to my text message from earlier. I don’t expect to.

  Chayse returns with an overloaded tray, and plonks it down unceremoniously on the table, sending gravy splashing everywhere.

  “Dude, seriously!” I scold, wiping a stray drop from my phone’s screen. I hate messiness!

  “So what did the monster want?” Chayse asks. “Does she need some help cleaning out the bowels of hell?”

  “Funny guy,” I say with a smile. “She was just checking in.”

  “On what?” Chayse asks. “You know, if you keep consorting with that woman, I may have to start calling you Lucifer. Meanwhile, there’s a street race downtown tonight, wanna come?”

  “You know I don’t go to those things anymore, not after what happened. I don’t know why you still go, since your ass refuses to get behind the wheel of a car,” I reply.

  “You know my reasons,” Chayse replies looking down. “So there was an accident, they happen. Besides, you got a stint in an upmarket rehab facility for it. I served time. Quit your bitching,” Chayse reprimands.

  A pang of guilt assaults my gut. The memory of that accident is so very real. Part of the reason why Eliza Carson has me firmly by the balls for eternity. Chayse never once blamed me for anything that happened that awful night. Then again, Chayse doesn’t know the whole story. The only people who know the whole story are me, my mother, and by default, Tyler.

  Shortly after, I excuse myself from the table and head back to work. Anything is better than wallowing in my own self-pity and staring at Chayse demolishing the sickening cafeteria food, which smells like congealed grease.

  The day races by, as it always does when it’s busy. Before long, the clock hits six pm, and I make my way back home. This time to Emily. She normally texts me during the day to see how I am. Today she didn’t. I walk in the front door of the apartment, and see her busily stirring a pot on the stove.

  “Hi, baby,” I greet, wrapping my arms around her waist.

  “Hi,” she says, turning and landing her lips on mine. Maybe I was unnecessarily worried after all. She kisses me slowly, and sensuously, her hands sliding up my back over my shirt. I wince as she touches the still tender new tat
too.

  “Smells good,” I say leaning over the stove. “What is it?” I love that Emily can cook. I guess that makes me a bit of a chauvinist, but so be it.

  “Steak, grilled rare, the way you like it, with a green peppercorn sauce and potatoes au gratin,” she says proudly.

  “Wow,” I say, now glad that I skipped lunch. “I’ll grab a quick shower and be right back.” I feel Emily’s eyes on me as I walk into the bedroom.

  After my shower we eat dinner, and then I help her wash the dishes. She barely utters more than a few words over the course of the meal. It’s a weird feeling of disconnect. For the second time today, I’m unnerved by her behavior.

  “How was work?” she asks softly.

  My mind is so distracted. “Busy,” I reply. I wonder, as I spin a plate around in a kitchen towel, if now is a good time to approach my future wife. It’s been awhile, too many days since I last touched her. Felt her. But my ego hates it when she turns me down. I’d rather not even bother, if that were the case.

  She gives me a small smile. I take a few steps towards her, remove the soapy glass from her hand, and push her firmly against the kitchen’s island countertop. Her face registers a look of surprise. She’s not used to me being this rough.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whisper low and confident in her ear. She eyes me silently. I slide both hands into the front of her button down shirt and rip it fiercely apart, sending the buttons ricocheting across the kitchen and onto the floor. Her perky, creamy breasts look positively edible in the coral colored bra she’s wearing.

  I look down and notice her grip the edge of the counter. Fear, anticipation, or lust? I can’t decipher it exactly. I crash my lips into hers, hard. Her mouth opens to mine hungrily. I grip her chin with my hand and move it to the side, my lips tracing hard and rough kisses down the side of her neck. My other hand grips her shoulder, my fingers kneading aggressively into the soft skin. Emily cries out. Again, pain or excitement? I can’t tell. I don’t stop to find out. My hand moves to pull the bra down, and I take her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. Louder cries from Emily. My hand slips inside her pants, into her panties, into the warm heat.