Anything to dull the all-consuming pain that’s slashing my chest.

Layla

I’m numb.

Again.

Right back where I left off before I moved.

Exhaustion is the only thing that penetrates my deadened emotions.

Even unfeeling, I register that something was taken from me. Or rather, that I gave a part of myself away.

The look on Blake’s face when he left burns through my mind on an endless loop. The void in his green eyes when they stared right through me. The disgust on his face right before he walked out, as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I shut my eyes, blink, rub my temples, but nothing erases the memory.

I deserve that.

The words flew from my mouth on instinct. I knew he’d never leave unless I forced him to. When I said Stewart fights dirty, I wasn’t kidding. He’s had people fired for something as trivial as bringing him the wrong drink. Who knows what he’d do to Blake, the man sleeping with his wife. I had to get him to believe me. To see me as someone unworthy, who’d jerk him around for selfish reasons. In order to protect him, I had to hurt him.

“Elle, your date’s here.” Stewart calls to Axelle, who’s slumped over in my lap on the couch. “Would you rather me talk to him?”

Killian’s here? I didn’t even hear the door. Was Stewart waiting for him?

She hauls herself up, her expression mirroring the detachment I feel. “I got it.”

Stewart’s phone rings. “Remember what we talked about, Elle. Make it fast.” He puts the phone to his ear. “Talk to me.” He barks his words to the caller and walks into one of the bedrooms, I’m assuming for privacy.

Axelle watches him until he disappears then scurries to the side table and scribbles something on a piece of paper by the phone. I can’t imagine what she’d be writing, and I can’t bring myself to care.

I sit staring across the room while she gives Killian a handful of lies to get rid of him. He doesn’t push as hard as Blake, and within minutes she’s back with her head in my lap. My fingers run through her hair, pulling loose all the curls we spent the afternoon perfecting. A perfect illustration of my life.

I’d worked so hard to come this far. Getting back the person I used to be, one piece at a time. I’ve been molding and shaping those pieces, strong-arming them into place. And finally, I started to see the shadow of who I was before Stewart fire-bombed my life at sixteen. All to have it destroyed in minutes.

Part of me wonders if I should’ve let Blake and Stewart fight. If I had, maybe now we’d be in the comfort of his arms. In the safety of his house, and far away from the memories of what we used to be.

Ruined. Broken. Beyond repair.

Blake will never forgive me.

It’s over.

Blake

The music throbs through my already aching body. The fall from the adrenaline rush is always a bitch. Luckily, a few shots of whiskey with beer chasers make the fall less excruciating.

A blonde named Trix swivels her hips on stage. She looks like a girl I know. Her hair the same shade of sunshine, and her body just as tiny and tempting. But her tits are a lot bigger, and I can tell she doesn’t have a jagged scar on her lower belly from a shitty C-section. But all that aside, she looks like that girl. Even her eyes seem as dark at this distance. I imagine for a second that she is that girl. It’s a fucked up game to play, but it feels good. Paying for a woman’s attention is a lot fucking easier than earning it.

Less messy. Less painful.

My stand-in fantasy girl dips down low, her breasts close to my face. “Do you like what you see?”

Her nipples are darker than that girl’s, but they look pretty good. I’m sure they don’t taste like vanilla. They’re probably bitter, like the smell of the perfume that wafts off my stand-in’s body in waves. But I can pretend.

“Yeah, I do.” I slip my fingers into her hair, running them down one long strand. Not as silky, but not bad.

“Fifty for a lap dance.” She leans in, and I feel her breath against my ear. I tilt my head and imagine she’s asking for what she wants. Begging for me to touch her. Just like that girl. “Two-fifty if you want to make it private.”

She pulls back and twirls around, allowing me a moment to check out what she’s offering.

“How private?” I down the rest of my beer and notice the waitress dropped another shot in front of me. I throw that back too.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. I’ll make it as private as you want, baby.”

Done. “Lead the way.”

She giggles. “Let me go clear a room. I’ll be right back.”

I watch her g-stringed ass walk away and then stare blindly in front of me. Not seeing, not feeling, just being. This is a much better way to live. I feel sorry for all the dumb fucks that put their feelings out there. Who share personal things with people who could and most likely will end up walking away. Leaving and taking a chunk of their soul upon departure. I laugh. No one will ever make me that weak again.

“Interesting place to spend V-Day, Blake.” The female voice comes from my side.

I jerk when I see who it is. “Look who’s talking? What the fuck’re you doing here?”

“I brought her.” Jonah’s voice rumbles from my other side.

My head swivels back and forth between Raven’s grin and Jonah’s scowl.

“Dude, you brought your pregnant wife to a strip club on Valentine’s Day?” I laugh, and think that just days ago I thought of bringing that girl here too. “Man, romance is well and truly dead.”

“So this is it, huh? I pictured it being, I don’t know, brighter?” Raven scans the bar and stage. “Also a little less…” She snaps her fingers. “You know… bow chickie bow wow.” She reaches into her pocket. “So how does this work?”

“Baby, don’t you dare pull out a dollar. We’re out of here in fifteen minutes. You promised.” Jonah’s growled words have Raven rolling her eyes.

“Wait, you asked him to bring you here? On Valentine’s Day?” I double over as laughter hits me hard. “That’s fucking funny.” Damn, it feels good to laugh. I’m still chuckling when Raven’s sympathetic expression dries the last of my humor. “What?”

She turns her body toward me. “Killer called. He told us about Stewart.”

I shrug. “So?”

She leans in. “He told us that Layla and Axelle cancelled on you guys.”

The sound of that girl’s name makes my stomach tip on end. I reach for my beer. Empty. Fuck.

So that’s why they’re here. “Wait, how did you know where to find me?” I ask Jonah.

“Lucky fucking guess.” The deadpan way he says it has me glaring.

“Killer said that Axelle was upset.” She isn’t giving up.

Yeah, she wasn’t the only one. I lock down my urge to start tossing tables and focus on a stripper with hot pink hair who’s ripping her top off to a Sex Pistol’s song.

“She slipped him a piece of paper, Blake.” Raven’s voice is louder than before.

I keep my stare to the stage, and try like hell not to listen.

“The paper said that she didn’t want to leave her mom.”

This gets my eyes, but only for a second. “They aren’t my problem anymore.”

Jonah leans in. “Killer thinks they didn’t want to cancel. He thinks they were forced to.”

“No, he’s wrong. He’s just a love-happy little prick who doesn’t know better. He thinks women are all soft and fucking sweet, and that they’re not conniving little bitches who act loyal and devoted until they’re forced to choose. They pretend to be strong, and fake it until they get me to believe I’m safe… and loved. Then turn on my ass. Ratting me out and kicking my pussy ass to the curb.” I hurl my empty beer bottle across the room, and it shatters against a wall.

The stripper on stage startles, and a bouncer makes his way over to me, only to get waved off by Jonah.

Raven grabs my forearm. “Not everything’s as it seems, Blake.”

I jerk out of her hold.

“Blake, man.” Jonah moves closer, but doesn’t touch me. “Calm the fuck down.”

“I’m not saying what she did is right,” Raven says. “But is it possible that she sent you away because she loves you?”

Yeah, just like my mom snitched on me because she loves me? I laugh without a hint of humor. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense, and you know it.”

“Can’t you see? She’s sacrificing herself for you.”

“You don’t know her.”

“I don’t have to know her. I know love. And love makes you welcome torture if that means keeping the person you love safe.”

I swivel my body so that I’m facing Raven head on. “Safe? I’m a six-foot-two, hundred and ninety-pound jiu-jitsu black belt. You think I need a tiny woman to keep me safe? That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Blake,” Jonah warns.

I slump back in my chair, thinking this has turned into the most jacked-up day. Amazing how I could wake up with plans for the best night of my life, and now I’m here having to listen to this bullshit when all I want to do is be left alone with my lap dance. Fuck.

“So that’s it. You’re just gonna give up?” Raven sounds pissed.

“Yup.” I don’t want to give up. But what choice do I have? She kicked me out and threatened to call the cops.

“Huh.” She shrugs. “Have it your way.” Her eyes move to Jonah. “Let’s go check on her.”

My head jerks in their direction before I can stop it. “Check on who?”

Jonah stands. “Layla and Axelle. Killer’s meeting us there. He’s pretty worried. I guess Axelle’s dad is a real asshole.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.