Be My Hero(15)

     



 

I cleared my throat. "So, yeah." Shifting away so we weren't quite so  close anymore, I glanced toward Mason, but he seemed lost in his own  thoughts. "Sorry again for being a complete bitch. I just . . . I  haven't met a lot of guys who aren't total bastards. So, I'm pretty much  leery of everyone."

"Been burned a couple times, huh?" Sympathy ruled his tone.

My throat grew too dry to answer, so I didn't.

"Well, if this is as bitchy as you get, I'm not scared off. I've definitely met worse."

I snorted, meeting his gaze without meaning to. "I seriously doubt that, but thanks for trying to cheer me up."

"No, really." Grinning, he shook his head. "I'm dead serious. This  friend of mine puts on a bitch front constantly." He rolled his eyes.  "She was raped a lot when she was young, so she's built up this shitty  attitude where she degrades everyone around her. It's become like this  security shield she hides behind so no one can see the real her and know  how broken she feels."

For a moment, I stared at him, unable to move, or breathe, or react.  Sensation left all four of my limbs, as a cold blanket of fear covered  me. It was the strangest thing, but I could feel the color drain from my  face. I gaped at Pick Ryan, wondering how he'd just described my entire  life to a perfect T.

Exposed, unable to hide, and feeling like a frightened rabbit with  nowhere to run, my heartbeat fluttered in my chest. I swayed away from  him.

And I saw the very moment he realized what he'd done. The smile slid  from his lips, and his eyes bulged with shock. "No," he whispered as if  absolutely horrified.

Oh my God. This was awful. No one had ever guessed this before. And  outside of my parents, no one knew. How could he . . . after less than  five minutes of talking to me . . . ? No. There was no way possible he  could pluck that out of my brain just like that.

But, holy shit. He had. And he knew it.

"Tink?" His fingers skated across the bar, headed in my direction. I  tried to jerk my hand away, but he caught my wrist. "No. Don't."

His voice was so soft and understanding, trying to coddle me as my eyes  filled with tears. Dear God, I was going to turn into a blubbering mess  if this kept up. "Let go," I pleaded, desperate to stop this.

"But-" He cut himself off even as he refused to let go of my hand. His  face blanched of color as he met my gaze. Finally, he squeezed his eyes  shut before opening them and saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to crack  open that little egg of information."

He looked about as torn up as I felt. I swear, if I had burst out really crying in that second, he would've joined me.

The force of his empathy was sweet, but it was a little too much for me.

"It's okay," I reassured him as I tugged at my hand, hoping to break free from his warm grip. "But you need to let me go."

He gave a watery laugh and shifted his gaze toward the ceiling. "Let you  go," he repeated as if the suggestion were ludicrous. When he met my  gaze, he seemed completely rattled. "Easier said than done, Tink."

Yeah, so that confused the hell out of me. I opened my mouth to ask what he meant when Reese exited the hallway.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I'd like to get the H-E-double-hockey-sticks out of here now."

Mason surged off his stool. "Amen."

"Right behind you," I said. As soon as I broke free of Pick Ryan.

I looked up at him expectantly. He didn't let go, but he eased his grip  enough for me to tug myself free, and still he made sure his fingers  slid against mine the entire way.

I expected some kind of farewell from him, but he didn't even say  goodbye. The sad longing in his brown eyes told me he couldn't say the  words; they hurt him too much.

Out of my depth with this man, I ducked my face and turned away,  trailing after Reese and Mason. When we reached the doorway, I glanced  back, and I was as unsettled as I was thrilled to find his gaze still on  me.

It was a quiet, tense ride to the apartment. Trying to make myself as  small as possible in the Jeep's back seat because I knew this had to be  the worst time ever for Reese and Mason to have a third wheel hanging  around, I tried not to think about Mason's tattooed coworker.

But I did. Why had he been so intrigued by me? Why had I been so  intrigued back? How had he so easily figured me out? Why . . . ?

Hell, it didn't matter.

Things had changed too much in the last few months. Back in September, I  wouldn't have thought a thing about some guy staring at me as if he  thought I was amazing. I would've expected it and flashed him a little  more skin just to be mean and stir him up. But getting pregnant and  finally growing up a little had killed all that. Knowing my face was  swollen, my stomach was forty-five inches around, and my waddle was  anything but seductive, I had no idea what could be so amazing about me.         

     



 

But, like I said, it didn't matter.

Once we reached the apartment, I hung back as Mason and Reese went  inside together. I was glad they'd already gone to their bedroom by the  time I made it through the front door. I wasn't sure if I had the  strength to watch the struggle those two had to go through to get over  this bump in their lives.

After a quick bathroom break, I holed up in my room and crawled into  bed. But even though Baby Girl was settled and not shifting anymore, I  still couldn't fall to sleep.

Pick Ryan knew about me. I didn't like that.





Chapter 5


PICK


I found myself following in Lowe's footsteps and emptying my stomach in  the nightclub's bathroom, which totally sucked ass. The room reeked of  piss, and shit, and an accumulation of other guys' puke. Awesome.

After I was done, I stumbled into the kitchen to wash my hands. The cook  had been gone for hours since they closed the kitchen at midnight. The  quiet gave me a moment to breathe in some fresh air and digest  everything that had just happened and everything I'd learned.

But shit. She was real. She was real. She was really fucking real.

And pregnant. And Christ, had she really gone through something similar  to what Tristy had gone through? The way she'd turned sheet white told  me yes, but I was still in complete denial over that part, so I chose to  ignore it for the time being.

I had plenty else to freak out about, anyway. Namely the fact that the  woman Madam LeFrey had told me was my soul mate was really fucking real.

I was dizzy with the knowledge of it. My Tinker Bell was real. And damn,  now I knew why I'd even given her that pet name to begin with. She'd  been adorable in her huge T-shirt with a picture of Tinker Bell  stretched over her bulging belly.

But double shit. Pregnant? I had not expected that.

My Tinker Bell was pregnant. But not with my baby. Not my Julian. Not my Skylar. Not my-

Fuck, I probably shouldn't feel jealous as hell right now, should I? I  probably shouldn't wonder about that baby's father or want to cut his  dick off with a dull spoon. And . . . man, I hoped her pregnancy wasn't  the result of her rape.

My stomach revolted again. I dashed to the nearest trashcan, but I'd  already emptied all the contents in the bathroom, so nothing but dry  heaves came up.

Suddenly plagued by memories of all the times I'd been forced to watch  Tristy be brutalized, I gagged some more. I didn't even want to consider  the possibility that Tinker Bell had gone through anything remotely  similar. No. Just . . . no.

But I kept remembering all those times I'd been there to clean Tristy up  afterward. Who'd been there for Tink? Who'd taken care of her and-

Dammit. It hurt too much to even ponder.

A cold sweat plastered itself to my brow and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I absolutely could not believe-

"Yo, Pick!" Ten popped his head through the kitchen entry. "The virgin and I are taking off. You good with closing?"

No. I wasn't good with shit right now. But I waved him away, and forced  myself into action, shutting down all the lights and locking up the  place. It was a routine that helped keep me focused on the here and now,  because thinking about-

I couldn't believe she was real. She was pregnant. She'd been violated.

I was still rattled by the time I let myself into my apartment twenty minutes later.

Fighter was awake and crying in the swing where I'd left him. Cursing, I  hurried to him and pulled him into my arms. When shit and piss  splattered my arms as the diaper that could contain no more  disintegrated and plopped to the floor, I almost puked from the rank  smell. Thank God I only had dry heaves left in me.

"Damn it." Dodging the mess, I hurried him to the bathroom to clean him  off. After a quick wipe down of both of us and a good scrub to the  floor, I carried him back to my bedroom where his crib and his baby  stuff were kept because I'd promised Tristy I would get up with him  every night. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

My rage helped keep me centered on Julian and getting him taken care of.

Had Tris not even heard him crying? I wanted to shout at her, strangle  her, and hell, I don't know. But this was no way to treat a child. I  knew she was dealing with a lot of baggage, but three months ago, Julian  had become a higher priority to me than she was, and I was so close to  the end of my rope with her, my anger scared me. I was shaking from it.