Recklessly Ever After Page 5

  My curiosity got the best of me as I meandered down the hall. I stopped to look up at the pictures on the wall, finding some of Gavin and the guys, along with Chloe, or Chloe and Addie, or Chloe and Collin. I trailed my finger over one particular picture. A blond lady with Chloe’s smile and round nose. It was her biological mother, Amy, the one who’d died a few months after Chloe was born while the guys were finishing their second tour of duty in the marines.

  What little I knew of her was that she was a good person who loved her daughter to pieces, unlike my own mother. That was yet another reason why babies were not welcome in my uterus. No way would I subject a kid to my ability to screw up like she had.

  “I only met her once.”

  I jumped at the sound of Gavin’s voice, but I didn’t take my eyes off Amy’s picture. In her arms sat a tiny bundle of pink. Chloe Bean—or Beaner, as Gavin, Collin, and Max affectionately called her. Addie was determined to remind Chloe who the woman was, and how much she had loved her.

  “She was beautiful.” I smiled wistfully.

  Gavin leaned against the wall next to me, arms folded over his chest. His body was like a furnace, yet his breath was cool against my cheek as he yawned. He smelled like cinnamon toothpaste, as though he’d just brushed.

  An odd sensation ran through me at the thought. Was he planning on kissing me? Is that why he’d brushed his teeth? And could I push him away if he did? Was I sadistic enough to want him to kiss me after I’d worked so hard to avoid him? Hell, my favorite pair of boots was now in the county dump because of how hard I’d fought to run away from him.

  Escaping through a window hadn’t been one of my finer moments.

  “Beaner’s lucky she has so many people who love her. I’m glad she’s not alone.” His voice cracked as he stared at the floor. His feet were bare, yet they looked clean, healthy. Everything about Gavin, other than his long hair and beard, said perfect order. Control.

  I looked down at the chipped nail polish on my feet and my stained yoga pants. I was a hot mess of disorganized and disgusting.

  “She’s very lucky.” I cleared my throat, the topic too close to home. No way would I tell him that my family life growing up had been like something out of an unhappily-ever-after Cinderella story. The wicked mother. The absentee father. The only difference was that I got an amazing stepbrother and stepsister out of the deal.

  “Collin will always miss Amy, but he loves the hell out of Addison. They’re sickening.” Gavin smiled as he said this, longing in his eyes.

  My chest warmed at the view and I pressed my hand over my heart, willing the sensation to skedaddle. Clearing my throat, I said, “Personally, I think it’s unhealthy to be so attached to someone. You should be your own person. Live your own life. The thought of finding a soul mate goes against human nature.” I shrugged. “I try to tell Addie that all the time, but I’m pretty sure it goes in one ear and out the other.”

  He took a step closer, brows furrowed. “You don’t believe in love?”

  “Maybe I used to.” I looked at the floor and sucked in a cleansing breath. “Believe in it, that is.” The topic of love used to make me uncomfortable. But talking to Gavin about it was relatively easy for some reason. “Or rather, I used to believe in the idea of love.” Yet along the way, the motto forever is for penguins, not humans had become my go-to phrase. From there on out, I’d vowed to make myself superficially and temporarily happy instead.

  “That’s sad.”

  I frowned. “How so?”

  He leaned in closer, his body nearly flush with mine. Desperation filled his gaze as he lowered his head until his lips were mere inches from my mine. “Because sometimes, McKenna, the things we fight against are the things that are best for us.”

  I shivered and leaned against him. “Gavin…”

  As if his proximity hadn’t almost brought me to my knees, he shrugged one shoulder and took a couple of steps back, sticking his hands inside the pockets of his low-slung shorts. Because I was a masochistic son of a gun, I quickly zeroed in on his protruding hip bones, wondering what it might be like to touch him there just once more.

  I refocused on his mouth, finding a frown pulling down the corners of his lips. It was almost as though he knew what I was thinking, feeling, remembering…

  My throat burned in irritation as I swallowed. “I-I’m not fucking you again.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and his frown turned into a quick, unnerving smirk. “Fine by me. I’m not looking for another fuck-and-run anyway.”

  I cringed, guilt somersaulting in my stomach. Before I could respond—apologize, even—he took off down the hall toward the living room, shoulders pulled back and head held high. Why the hell did this man have to be different from all the others to me?

  What I needed was to remain calm, unpretentious even. Because if Gavin knew how much he affected me, he might think we had a chance together. Which we didn’t. I mean…

  No. Absolutely not.

  “Well, good,” I called after him. “I’m glad we settled that. Because I’m a just-friends kind of gal anyway, St. James. Permanence isn’t my thing. And now that we’ve slept together, I think it’s best that we, you know, keep our distance.” Then why was I chasing him down the hall, trying to make known what he obviously already knew? And why was my traitorous heart skipping as I watched him swoop Chloe into his arms as though he were her prince?

  “Fine. Distance. Whatever you want.” He nodded at me as he passed, his arm bumping mine.

  “Yeah. Distance. Fan-tabulous!” God, why was I being so loud? And why was I yelling it at his back like a six-year-old?

  From Chloe’s room, he hollered for me. “Hey, Brewer? Come give a guy a hand.”

  My shoulders fell. I’m not sure why they did. Because disappointment was not racking my body as I stepped into the room and saw that all he really needed was diaper help.

  “I haven’t ever…” I motioned toward the changing table, hating how I was worried about my lack of maternal skills in front of him when that had never bothered me before.

  “You’re serious?” He frowned.

  I squirmed under his intense gaze but managed to close the distance between us. “As serious as anyone can be when not wanting to look and sound like a freak.”

  He urged me forward with his chin, his patience and the fact that he wasn’t laughing earning him bonus points. Not that I was keeping score.

  “Come on, then. We’ll master this together.”

  Hands flexing at my sides, I watched and learned from a nonexpert who looked, in fact, like an expert. “That doesn’t seem too hard,” I said.

  “It’s more time-consuming than anything.” He shrugged and hummed something under his breath. “Especially when she’s wiggly.”

  It was strange, changing diapers with a man I’d slept with but never actually had a relationship with. Life was constantly a surprise in the making. Especially when it came to Gavin St. James.

  Chapter 7

  Gavin

  There was something about the smell of sawdust that made me forget the thoughts running through my head. And today, I needed all the distraction I could get.

  McKenna Brewer was like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing in my ear. And now that I knew how she felt in my arms, it sucked even more to want someone who didn’t want me back. I guess, in a way, it was a blessing that my doc had told me I needed to get a hobby other than rugby. Had she not, I most likely would’ve been at home, pacing the floors and punching my fists through walls.

  During our initial appointment, I’d told my psychiatrist I played intramural rugby.

  Her response had been a headshake and a few words about violent sports not being the answer. How I needed something to keep me Zen because my job was stressful enough.

  About a month later, I saw an ad in the paper for a land auction. The old shack whe
re my uncle—my dad’s estranged brother—had lived in Arlo by the Mississippi River. The place where my life first started going to shit. It was up for sale.

  That day, I told my psychiatrist about what had happened to me as a kid—the whole story, though she already knew the logistics. She’d nodded and asked me how it made me feel to know that the home was there, but my uncle wasn’t. I told her another truth. That I wanted to buy the motherfucking place myself, then gut the insides, leaving just the frame and walls, only to rework it into something good and right. Something I could be proud of and call my own.

  That was the day I finally picked my hobby. Also the day I spent my entire savings on a piece of shit run-down shack that’d been haunting me for years.

  I didn’t have a damn clue how to fix up a house, but buying it, then demolishing that shed where I’d spent so many nights, made me feel as though I had control again. Not to mention something to work toward. Plus, I took to tools and nails easily. Working with my hands and doing something—other than sitting around feeling sorry for myself until I went back to work—was the final step I needed to find myself.

  I walked over to the card table I’d set up in the middle of what used to be the kitchen and spread out the blueprints. Two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, a porch, and a living room—perfect for when I needed an escape from the duplex. I didn’t see myself moving far from Collin, Max, Chloe, and Addie anytime soon, but it was nice to have something to fall back on.

  The sun had set a while ago. And according to my cell, I’d missed dinner. There were also three missed calls from Max. The guy needed to know where I was every second of every day lately.

  I texted him back, saying I was fine, just busy, then turned off my phone and pocketed it.

  Yawning, I rubbed my hands over my eyes and reached to switch off the battery-powered lanterns I’d been working under. Then I made my way outside, only to be stopped short by a tiny mew.

  “Damn cat.” I muttered under my breath and headed toward the box he liked to hide under just to the right in the grass. I’d left the box there in case it rained and I wasn’t around to let the cat inside.

  The tiny orange-and-white thing had taken up shop at my place a few weeks back and couldn’t have been more than two months old—abandoned or lost, I didn’t know. I couldn’t exactly turn him away, being so little, so I’d fed him, let him stay inside when I wasn’t there, and adopted him in a way. Even bought a little bed, some toys, and a litter box for him. The guys would die laughing if they knew I’d taken in a kitten.

  I hadn’t seen the cat for a few days and thought maybe he’d gone back to wherever he’d come from.

  Guess I was wrong.

  He purred and rubbed against my leg when I lifted the box. Unable to stop myself, I picked him up, only to find his front left paw covered in blood. “Shit, buddy. What happened?” Using the flashlight on my cell, I went back inside and grabbed a semi-clean shop towel to wrap around his paw. He hissed at my touch but didn’t try to bite me.

  “What am I supposed to do with you now?” I scratched the back of his head, frowning harder when his little blue eyes shut. Christ. I couldn’t leave the kitten alone when he was hurt, and I didn’t have anything here to clean up the blood.

  I grabbed the old box and set a work towel inside it. With a gentle hand, I tucked the cat in and didn’t think twice as I put him in my truck. Collin would have a conniption if he knew I was bringing an animal home. But I wasn’t a dick, and the kitten obviously needed help.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d barely made it onto my front porch when a voice called my name from next door. “Gavin, hey.”

  My shoulders went stiff while my heart picked up its pace. Where the fuck had she come from? Not knowing if I should run and ignore her, or turn and show my face, I stood there and waited for her to continue.

  “How are you?” McKenna’s voice was soft, yet scratchy, almost as if she were sick.

  Because I couldn’t help myself, I turned to her, trying to keep the box still in my hands. “Fine. You?”

  From under the porch light, I took a good, long look at her face. She seemed tired, with pale cheeks and dark circles under her eyes. But that didn’t keep my heart from racing.

  She shrugged, then looked at the ground. “I’m okay, I guess.”

  My throat burned as I swallowed. She wasn’t okay. But she’d made it clear she didn’t want a relationship with me. That didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends, and didn’t friends check up on one another? “You sure?”

  Her head jerked up. Wide eyes met mine in confusion, maybe with a bit of hope too, which was weird as hell. “It’s…been a bad day is all.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded, then cleared my burning throat. “So, uh…you got a sec? I could use some help with something.” No, I didn’t need her help. I could deal with this on my own. But she looked so damn sad, and I didn’t like it.

  “From me?” She frowned.

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my free hand through my hair, then added, “If you have time, that is.”

  “What do you need help with?” And just like that, her sadness slipped away. Perky, upbeat Kenna was back.

  I was opening my mouth to tell her when the little thing inside the box starting meowing. Her eyes zeroed in on the box. “Is that a cat?”

  Nodding, I reached inside and rubbed the top of his head to get him to stop with the noise. Instead, he started scratching at my fingers and meowing louder. “Ouch. Damn it, yes, it’s a cat.” I pulled my hand out and shook off the pain.

  “I love kitties!” She clapped and went to peek inside, but I yanked the box back, not wanting her to get scratched or bitten.

  “It’s hurt.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Well, we should take him to one of those overnight pet hospitals.”

  “No.” I stuck my key into my door lock. “Too expensive.” Especially for a guy who was suspended from work and trying to remodel a house. If I couldn’t get the kitten fixed up on my own tonight, I’d take him to the shelter tomorrow. Let them deal with him.

  I shouldered my way in, leaving the door open behind me.

  “What are you going to do with him, then?” she asked.

  Not answering, I set the box on my table and yanked off my shirt, tossing it onto the arm of my living room couch. I smelled like ass and needed a shower, but first I had a cat emergency to deal with.

  “What are you doing?” Kenna’s voice caught from behind me.

  I reached into the box for the cat. “My shirt stinks.”

  “So, what…you just rip it off like that?”

  “What else do you want me to do?” I tucked the little orange tabby to my chest and headed to the bathroom. There, I grabbed a bar of soap and a couple of towels, along with some peroxide and antibiotic cream. I wasn’t a vet; I was an EMT. But injuries were injuries, and this thing needed treatment.

  Her feet padded behind me as I headed into the kitchen. “Well, I mean…you just…”

  “I just what?” I laid out a big towel on the counter and set the cat on top, holding him still with one hand. When I was sure he wasn’t going to escape, I urged Kenna to stand in front of him while I filled a big bowl with hot water, laid it on the counter, then placed the soap and cream down next to it.

  “You just got half naked and started snuggling a kitten. It’s…it’s not right, okay?”

  “What?” I glared back at her from over my shoulder. “I’m hot and I stink. What else was I supposed to do?”

  She groaned and moved over, the scent of her skin smacking me in the face like an instant reminder. Not mine. Not mine. Not mine. Friends. Friends. Friends.

  “Ugh. You’re such a man.” She elbowed me in the ribs, which ended up being more of a love pat, also causing the neckline of her shirt to fall off one shoulder.

  I grunted, then took another step to my left so she cou
ld get closer to the cat—and farther away from me.

  “What happened to him?” she asked.

  I frowned. “Not sure. I found the little guy in my work boot one day when I…” Shit. I couldn’t tell her where I’d been.

  “When you what?”

  I ran my finger over the cat’s head, trying to find an excuse. “When I was at my ex’s house helping her put up a shed.” It was the only thing close to the truth I could come up with. Technically, my ex was not really an ex, more of a girl I went on a few dates with after we got back from Afghanistan. She lived in the same town as my fixer-upper, but she had no idea about my place. I hadn’t talked to her in six months.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you had an ex.”

  Something in her voice gave me pause. The tone. The question. “Why would you think that? Because I don’t flaunt women like Max does?”

  She reached for the rag and dropped it into the warm water, squeezing the excess liquid out in the sink. “No. I just meant…I didn’t think you dated around.”

  I didn’t. Still, there was no reason for Kenna to know anything about my personal life. Not when she wasn’t willing to give me more than occasional companionship. It had taken me nearly six years and two tours of duty to tell Collin and Max the truth about my upbringing—the foster part of it. Not the bad shit. I wasn’t one for talking about my past.

  “I’m not from this area originally.” That’s all I could give her. All she deserved. Sharing things with her would be too easy, and I’d grow attached. And getting attached to McKenna Brewer wasn’t something I could do. I had to remember that.

  “Oh. Okay. I didn’t mean to pry. Sorry.”

  Shrugging, I pulled the rag from her hand and finished wiping the cat’s paw. There was a nasty burr stuck between his toes, and thankfully, once I pulled it free, the cat started moving his paw around again. Still, I wasn’t going to take him back to my place and release him. Not tonight. Staying here with me was the safest option for him.