My hands push against his chest, creating the space I should have the minute he barged in here. I can’t allow my body to rule my mind. His clean male scent, his striking eyes that are boring into my own, and I can’t think straight, my body betraying me.
“You left me knowing I had to take care of a sick dad, a bar that he’d run into the ground, and a crap load of debt to crawl out of. You told me you’d be here for me, said you’d help me pick up the pieces, and then you left.”
“I’m here now.” He reaches for me again.
“You’re too late,” I say the words but they’re meaningless. I know it, he knows it, and when his fingers graze my arm—when he steps further into my zone, my protective space no one is supposed to invade without being invited, all the fight leaves me as I’m not strong enough to ask him to step out of it.
“Ten more!”
I grunt in agony as Reed unleashes a torment of unnecessary commands in my face. Dusk is setting in, and I can see my breath with each exhale. We’re at the track at the Santa Barbara City College, our go-to place when we meet for our workouts. He has some sort of rap blasting from his portable Bluetooth device, and I want to laugh at him as he tries to yell over the volume of the music.
“Come on pussy! Ten more pull ups!”
I pause mid-stride, my chin grazing the bar in front of me. “Quit the dramatics, Reed, this isn’t the army.”
He steps closer, his hands on his hips. “Get moving, Damian, I’ve got a date, and you’re fucking with my time.”
Laughing, I finish the ten pull-ups, and do five more for good measure. Releasing my hands from the bar, I drop to the ground and wrap a towel around my neck.
“With who?”
He shrugs. “Some chick I met at Starbucks the other day.” He’s busy packing up our training gear, not looking in my direction. It’s getting dark and the lights from the stadium are illuminating everything in a soft glow. My heart is pounding furiously inside my chest, and I love every second of this massive endorphin high my body is on right now. I couldn’t feel more alive.
“And?” I ask as I begin to take off my weight lifting gloves.
“And what? She has a great ass and a nice rack, so I asked her out.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a swig from my water bottle.
“Good luck with that one,” I say sarcastically.
Stepping back to document the set we just hammered out, my leg gets a slight cramp, and I’m reminded how different my life is from six years ago. You can either be slapped in the face with a reality check, or slowly shown that your life is going to need to change. I was punched in the gut when a drunk driver slammed into my car, destroying . . . everything. My leg eventually healed, and my body was mended, but my heart never quite recovered.
“Damian – watch out!”
The pain is violent. Bones are shattering into dust . . . skin ripping apart. Blood is everywhere, the smell of warm copper surrounding me. And it’s loud. Pain is a deafening sound, and right now, it’s pulsing between my ears.
I open my eyes to try to find a focal point, something that will bring me back to the here and now, but all I see are headlights blinding my vision, and I realize the noise isn’t so much the throbbing torment pulsing in my leg, but a car, its horn blaring. “Stop honking your damn horn!” I scream into the bright light.
Looking away, I try to shield my eyes from the blazing light, and that’s when I see her blonde hair fanned out across the middle console. Streaks of blood growing thicker and darker by the second.
How could I have forgotten I wasn’t alone?
Shaking off the memory, I record the workout we just completed, thankful for the life I have now. After the accident . . . slowly, with Reed’s help, I built my body back up, working out and training like it was my profession was the only way I knew how to live my life. It wasn’t until a few years ago Reed and I decided we could grow a business out of what we did best—mass market our workouts to people all over the world, that I started to believe my life once again had purpose. And it’s the belief that I can make a difference in other people’s lives that helps me find peace with my past.
“Let’s go Reed. You have a date with a nice set of tits.”
Grabbing his water bottle, he points a finger at me. “I’m going to ask my date if she has a friend.”
“No thanks.”
“I think you need to get laid, Dude. When was the last time you had a piece of ass?” He puts his bottle down and grins. “A real piece of ass, not some relationship chick.”
Ignoring him, I walk to the car. My dad is a man whoring asshole. Casual sex is not high on my priority list, and Reed knows it. He should keep his mouth shut.
“Exactly, you can’t even remember,” he mocks.
I do remember. Two years ago, auburn hair, hazel eyes, and I recall the experience wasn’t something worth remembering or doing again. There hadn’t been a chick in recent history that had an effect on me worth going back for seconds. The first time in six years that my blood heated at the sight of a woman was last weekend when Addison Peacock fell at my feet. But she’s my neighbor and most likely off the market. Girls like that don’t stay single, and they’re smart enough not to mess with the boy next door.
Every morning that tiny, colorful ray of light is on her balcony drinking coffee and reading some smutty novel. Her dark hair pulled up away from the delicate features of her face, her eyes, soft with the early morning sun and her lips, fuck those lips always deliciously turned up in a sweet and seductive smile that instantly makes me hard. It’s the highlight of my day wondering if she’ll still be in her pajamas or dressed for work. Either scenario has me needing a cold shower, and I’m not one for torture, so I normally turn the water on hot and take care of business on my own, imagining it’s her mouth working my cock up and down, instead of my own right hand.
Packing up the rest of my gear, we head to the car.
Throwing my shit in the back of my 4runner, I hop in the driver’s side. “Random sex isn’t on my agenda, Reed.” Buckling my seat belt, I mumble, “I still have a shit load of unpacking to do, anyway.”
Reed slides into the passenger seat and glares at me.
“What?”
“I know you’re thinking about your new neighbor, Dude. You shouldn’t shit where you sleep, trust me, it never works out well.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Huffing out a huge breath, he looks me square on. “I did a little research.”
“And?” Fucking Reed and his theatrics.
“And, Addison is an associate at Martin, Feeley, and Partners.”
“The Family Law firm?” My body tenses. “The one representing Emily?”
“One and the same.”
It takes me ten seconds to come to some lame conclusion. “Doesn’t mean she’s on the case, Reed.”
“She’s not on the case, and it’s probably fine, but it also looks a bit sketchy if you’re dating one of Thomas Feeley’s associates.”
“Dude, I’m not dating her. She’s my neighbor.”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “You know what I mean.”
“Feeley is an ass,” I say petulantly.
“I’m not disagreeing with that.”
“Well, don’t worry. My plan really was to go home and finish unpacking.”
Dropping Reed off at his house, I decide to stop by and visit Emily before I head home.
Pediatric Oncology
Room 434
The sign still twists my gut whenever I see it. No child should have to go through what these kids do day in and day out.