Page 19 of Falling for Fury

I slam the water off, wrap a towel around my hips, and make my way back downstairs. I hear the faint vibration of my phone as I reach to grab it on my way to the fridge. I stop in the center of the kitchen and see Addy’s message.

I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, the hope that fizzles and dies. She owes me nothing. She reached out, but she doesn’t want to see me, that’s fine.

I bite down on my lower lip, staring at the phone. The speech bubbles pop up and disappear, then pop up and disappear again. I stare for about a minute and then curse myself. I look up at the ceiling, locking my phone screen. I open the fridge and grab a Gatorade to replenish the fucking sweat storm I am having at texting a woman.

Addison

The week drags. I realize I am in desperate need of this holiday. Who would have thought a week away with my family would actually be exciting?

My interview with Lucas on Tuesday went well after I recovered from the initial shock at our introduction. Lucas was stupid hot. Very like pretty-boy turned bad-boy, with his straight dark hair that was a mess on top of his head, his tall strapping frame dominating the space. Hazel eyes standing out when framed with dark lashes and olive skin that looked marked with tattoos under the sleeves and neckline of his shirt. Practically had to pick my jaw up off the floor when he threw me a smile. Damn.

He asked me the usual job interview questions, and I tried to answer honestly and professionally… maybe some white lies. I haven’t worked in hospitality for a while and I have never worked in a nightclub.

“I think you’ll pick it up quickly. I mean, you’re a law student, so you’re obviously smart.” I had not actually told him I was in law school, so I am going to assume Noah filled him in on that for the sake of giving my experience for this job.

“I would mostly need you weekends if that’s okay. Saturday nights we’re open until 3am and things can get… a little bit crazy, so you really need to have a backbone. Noah mentioned you have some fire in you, so I think you’d be perfect for the floor bar.” Noah said what now?

“Floor bar?” I had asked, ignoring the other question on my tongue, What other conversations have you had with Noah about me?

He walked me through everything—layout and schedule—and introduced me to a couple of other staff, before we transitioned into casual conversation on the way back to the front. He asked me about my degree, and I asked him how long he had the place for. Turns out Lucas and I had more in common than I thought. He is also a 25-year-old, ex-party-boy-trust-fund-kid, well except for the party boy bit. He got into a bit of trouble, which he elected not to elaborate on, and was told to make something of his privilege or he’d be cut off. “Thought I was being clever, party life and all, by actually buying a nightclub. Humor wore off pretty quickly when I realized this is no walk in the park. I think I have aged about five years in the six months I’ve owned the joint, but surprisingly, I am enjoying it. Helps when you have a great support team. Like Noah.”

“Oh?” I choke out. Why on earth did the mention of his name send me in a tailspin?

“Yeah, Noah didn’t just do my branding and website, he runs my social media accounts. Pretty much controls all my marketing, website material, menu updates, socials—everything. He isn’t an employee, obviously, but I keep his company on a permanent retainer, and he just invoices me monthly. He doesn’t actually offer this to clients, so I am lucky he decided to help me out. I know nothing about all that shit.”

The version of Noah that Lucas described clashes with the version I had been making up in my head. The arrogant sunshine person who cares about himself and only himself. Or maybe it was easier to think those things and ignore the way he makes my skin heat and prickle by simply being near me, and not the usual kind I’m used to with my fury.

This right here is the problem I keep having. Noah keeps weaseling his way into my brain, giving me feelings he has absolutely no business provoking from me. Except I’m here trying to keep my head above water. New job, the holiday, law school. So much change and so much socializing and meeting new people. Throw in there meeting a new guy and trying to date. It is going to send me off a cliff, and in the end, no one will be there to catch me.

We made it back to the front bar, and he handed me an apron as he dashed out the back in a quick farewell.

I made my way back to the apartment, happy that I now had a job. Added bonus on the eye candy that is Lucas, but also thoroughly overwhelmed. Readjusting to the new job with the cramming I need to do for the final assessments before exams. I got a grade back yesterday for Tax Law that was just over a pass, and I desperately needed to fix that before finals. I managed to score a tutoring session with an alum, but I’m now petrified of failing at this, too. The rest of the week had just been a blur of classes, study hall, panic attacks about starting a new job after the holiday, and, well… trying not to think about Noah.

Despite Lucas being gorgeous, he unfortunately elicited nothing within me that compares to the way Noah seems to have my stomach in knots.

Not thinking about Noah is just another thing I fail at.

“Can I help you?” Thursday, I decide to sit at JJ’s to finish my research assignment, taking advantage of the continuous supply of coffee, but Jessie has decided to interrupt my flow.

“Are you talking to Noah?” His questions catch me off guard, and my hackles raise. First of all, what the fuck, second of all, the audacity.

“Why is it any of your business?” I bite back my rage and stare back to my computer screen.

“Because I know him, Ads. I know who he brings here and how often. I know his type, also, and it is not something you need.”

“Oh, and you’re an expert in what I need? You don’t even talk to me anymore. Ever since Jen—”

“Don’t talk about Jenny,” he interrupts me with a deep and low scolding and pins me with an intense stare. Green eyes, like mine, but with a twist of blue, fire back at me, when we match our rage it’s like looking in a mirror.

“I am just saying. You lost all right to be a protective brother when you decided to ignore all of us two years ago. You haven’t messaged or called. Twelve months ago, when I actually needed you, do you remember what you said?”

I just love it when a productive study session turns into a rehashing of trauma and pain. I have to blink back my rage tears and he just says nothing. His expression softens though, like he is fighting with his heart to not feel anything. Mentally cooling my veins and willing my control not to snap.

“You said, ‘that’s what you get for being a child and falling in love. Maybe if you grew up and stopped acting like a child, people would stop treating you like one.’ Do you remember that, Jessie?” His brutal attack on me after I ended it with Jake is singed into my memory like a brand, allowing me to recall word for word the way he tore me down.

My question is laced with venom, and my face pinches into a scowl as the memory rises. Skin-prickling rage growing with a vengeance, testing my latch to control. His face drops as he looks to his feet; he looks like he is genuinely in pain. I curse myself for being so harsh with my words, but screw him. He can’t have it both ways.

“Ads… I—”

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