Page 68 of Mayhem

Who the fuck do I think I am?

Do I really think I’m the end-all be-all of men? Some noble bastard saving helpless women from themselves and their poor choices in men? If Tess thinks she can handle me and all the bullshit that comes with it, shouldn’t I respect her choice in me? Have some sort of faith that she can handle it? Who am I to question it?

“Please don’t give up, Daddy.”

I gaze into my baby girl’s eyes, seeing so much hope there that it kills me. I have to fight back my own tears, and my throat tightens, nearly choking me. I would do anything to keep that hope alive in her. I will not be the one to douse this little girl’s fire. It helps that I agree with her.

I was giving up on myself.

I don’t want to give up on Tess.

“Okay.”

43

THE REASON

TESS

It feels like I just closed my eyes when I’m awakened by loud knocks on the front door. Persistent knocks. And from the sounds of it, more than one person. My heart starts racing, thinking there’s some sort of emergency. Maybe a fire in the complex. My neighbor has cats, is my first scattered thought.

I scramble out of bed, barely avoiding stumbling into the closet door in the hallway in my haste. My mind starts racing, trying to conjure an inventory of my things, and what I’ll grab first if I get a chance to save anything.

After fumbling with the locks, I finally swing the door open and find Brad.

And Charlie.

What the hell?

“Hi, Tess. My dad wants to talk to you,” Charlie announces as she walks past me into the apartment, and parks herself on the couch, grabs the remote, and turns the TV on to cartoons. I watch this in amazement as she makes herself at home, kicking her shoes off, and curling her legs underneath her. She even grabs the throw blanket and snuggles into it, getting all sorts of comfortable.

“Hi, Charlie…” I mutter, still getting my bearings. My brain hasn’t switched off the idea that there’s a fire, and I’m in danger. And good thing. I’m very much in danger. Or am I still sleeping? Is this just a dream?

I pinch my arm to make sure I’m awake, and it hurts. Yup. This is real.

“You okay?” Brad asks, and I suddenly remember he’s here too. When I turn back to him, still in the doorway, he looks just as tired as I feel. Dark circles shadow his stormy eyes, and I want to reach up to wipe the tiredness away. But I know I can’t do that. Not anymore.

He’s not mine.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, sidestepping his question. He doesn’t get to ask how I’m doing.

I’m not his.

“I came to talk to you.” Beneath the exhaustion, I sense fear, and I wonder what on earth he could be afraid of. He hasn’t made a move to come in, and I haven’t moved either to allow him to. “Please, Tess. Let me make this right.”

Make this right? How does he think he can do that? He broke my heart and stomped on it right in front of me. There’s no way to fix that.

“He wants to tell you he’s sorry for being a jerk,” Charlie says from behind me, and when I glance back, she’s still glued to the TV, but obviously very aware of what’s happening.

“So, this is a tag team thing?” I ask Brad, planting a hand on my hip. If he’s using Charlie to get me back, that’s low, even for Brad. Especially after showing how protective he is over her.

“No, not at all,” Brad reassures. “But Charlie did set me straight on a few things. Which is why I’m here.” He rakes a hand through his hair and my fingers twitch with memory of how it felt to do the same thing. How soft the strands were sliding through my fingertips. “Can we talk?”

I study him closely, debating internally whether to see this through. I’ve barely had time to digest last night’s devastation personally and not just professionally. I’m not sure I’m ready for anything new. But something in his eyes makes me want to listen to whatever he has to say. A spark that always draws me in to him. It’s that cosmic magnetic pull between us that I could never deny.

And I can’t deny it now, either.

Without a word I step back, lowering my gaze slightly to invite him in. When he slides past me, his cologne follows, enveloping me in all things Brad. On top of the room still full of flowers, it’s a bit overwhelming.

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