It’s Chaps’s birthday. A hell of a reason to celebrate. Two days of partying. Two days with my brothers. Two days where nothing else matters but commemorating the life of one of our own. Two days and I would be back here with her. And I haven’t even left, but already, I miss her.
* * *
“What you so pissed off about?” Tanner, the San Antonio sergeant at arms, asks me the next night. I’d given them back their rockers, and now I guess he feels like we were pals.
We aren’t.
I’m not in the mood to make new friends. I’m not even in the mood for the couple I have. My mind is clouded with thoughts of Diem. I want to be with her. I want to be Zeke—the man that allowed a woman to invade his home and try to control his life. For some reason, I actually like being that man.
“Another,” I tell the slut behind the bar. A few months ago, I’d be banging the shit outta her. But right now, I find her almost repulsive. Too easy. Too fake. Too cheap. Too not like Diem.
“It’s really none of my business, but I know a thing or two about relationships if you wanna talk.” I glare at Tanner, hoping he gets the message. He doesn’t. “I got three baby mamas, and a wife. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
I want to kill him. But I can’t. He’s my brother. So I just get up and walk away, mumbling my opinion of him on the way out. “Yeah, Tanner. Sounds like you’re a real fucking hero.”
I move to the patio, trying to escape my thoughts of Diem. But, even here with the booze, naked women and blunts, I still can’t get her out of my head. It goes back to when I told her I was leaving. I’d forgotten that we’d made plans to go out. I’d asked her on a date during a moment of weakness yesterday. I can’t seem to shake the conversation or the vision of her holding a pair of the sexiest black heels I’d ever seen in her hand.
“So you won’t be here tonight?” she’d asked, wearing nothing but a towel. She looked pissed.
“No.”
“And tomorrow?” Yeah, definitely pissed.
I swallowed hard, shaking my head as I told her the truth. “I don’t know.”
“You know, Zeke,” she snapped, losing her temper. “It’s not that you’re leaving, it’s the fact that you made plans with me first. I don’t like being lied to.”
“Diem, I didn’t lie. Something came up.” Liar. Well, something did come up, but it damn sure wasn’t the “family issue” excuse I’d been claiming for months now.
“I’m going out tomorrow.” Her voice was more controlled, but cold and threatening. “And I’m wearing these heels. And if your ass isn’t there, then I’ll be digging them into someone else’s.” She stomped out, and I just stood there.
It’s not like we’re monogamous. She can fuck whoever she wants. That feeling of jealousy she had, I’ve never experienced. I wasn’t going to start now. I’m miles away . . . surrounded by women begging for my cock. I don’t need her. Let her fuck some other guy. I don’t care.
I Don’t Care.
I DON’T CARE.
But for some reason, I can’t resist the urge to put my fist through something.
* * *
It’s night two of Chaps’s birthday celebration. I’m hungover, tired, and feeling more dangerous and lethal than I can ever remember. I want to kill that motherfucker Diem dug those heels into last night. I want to crush his skull with my bare hands. Then I want to let her dig them heels into me, and dare her to tell me she liked him more.
Zeke’s phone buzzes in my pocket and I deliberate opening the message. Knowing Diem, it’s probably a selfie of her riding some random guy’s cock. With the idea of killing them both, adrenaline bolts through my veins as I open the message, already preparing her slow death like I have so many times before. But the message I see has me melting all over my barstool like a lovestruck fucking pussy.
I didn’t go out last night. Me and my heels made a decision . . . We’d rather just wait on you.
I nearly knock Cynthia, the naked woman who’s been trying to get my attention all day, off the stool next to me when I stand and hit the call button.
“Diem,” I say, my voice low and thick and laced with need. I’m walking outside and away from the noise. But apparently, I don’t escape fast enough.
“Are you at a party?”
“Yes.” I don’t lie. I don’t have any reason to.
“Well, that’s just perfect, Zeke.” She sounds pissed.
“Are you mad?”
“Mad? No. Mad would be me frolicking through a field of flowers. Pissed off would have me burning your fucking house down.”