Текст книги "Beautiful Storm"

Автор книги: Megan Isaacs

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

And there it is, the unanswerable question.

I shrug my shoulders and run my hands through the length of my hair, keeping hold of the ends and staring at them as if they hold the answer. “I haven’t a clue.” I look into my friend’s face. One that has been with me through all the ups and downs of my life, but it doesn’t hold the answer either.

“He deserves to know, Lizzie.”

Understatement of the century. Of course he deserves to know. But how do I tell him something I know will destroy him? I’ve seen the damage I’ve done to his heart already. I couldn’t stand to watch as the last remaining fragments were torn from his body.

I bury my head in my hands for what feels like the umpteenth time, hoping by some miracle I’ll turn into an ostrich and can bury my head in the sand forever. “What would you do?”

“I don’t think I would have let it get this far. But, I understand the decisions you’ve made, even if I don’t entirely agree with them.”

“I never thought I’d see him again.” The desperation is evident in my voice, hurt by the disapproving tone in hers.

“I know, hun. Really, I do understand. I know you think I’m judging you, but I’m not. It’s easy to comment from the sidelines but it’s different to be in the game. You did the best you could with the shit life threw at you.” Her now gentle tone placates my angst. “Do you want Ted to tell him?” she asks, and I’m painfully reminded that he knows more about my life than I do about his.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Why’d you tell him?”

“Honestly, you thought I’d tell him? I wouldn’t do that to you, Lizzie. You told him. Well, you told Spud yesterday. There was no way he wasn’t going to say anything to Ted, who’s furious by the way. Those men appear to be closer than most blood brothers. You have no idea how much convincing I’ve had to do so he wouldn’t tell Noah. He was on the phone most of the night.”

I should have known she wouldn’t say anything. Being a broken mess after Noah left, Spud had been kind and understanding and it all just came pouring out. I suppose I just needed to tell someone who knew him so well.

“I’ve thought about it. Thought about Ted telling Noah. It would be easier for me to let him, but it’s something I’ve got to do.” I sigh deeply. “What do you think about a letter?”

“It could work, I suppose. At least he couldn’t walk away from it before hearing what you had to say.” She starts chewing on her nails in thought. “But don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know… heartless, maybe?”

“You’re right,” I huff. “It’s not something he should read about.”

Layla hoists herself off the bed, walks to the door, and leans against the frame again. “You’ll think of something,” she adds cheerfully.

I nod at her before she walks out of the room, leaving me to my thoughts.

Walking over to the small shabby chic dressing table, I sit down and gaze at my reflection. I’ve done this so many times over the years, seen many different emotions staring back at me. I analyse my features, but nothing much changes. I still have the same colour hair, same lips, nose, and face shape. None of which are anything to write home about. It’s my eyes that display my feelings without dispute, as they always have.

The predominant emotion emitting from their depths is fear. Everything I’ve done has been for Noah, but I know this will be a step too far.

Time to find out.

I pick up my phone and scroll through the contacts, looking for the name that my finger has hovered over so many times in the past. When it comes into view, my breathing increases, as it always has, and my heart starts to race.

With shaky hands and a deep, unsteady breath, this time I press call.

THE SOUND OF my ringtone pierces my ears, sending sharp spikes of pain through my head. The fucker’s volume is set too high. I push the heel of my hand into my eyes, in an effort to rub the sleep away, before forcing them to open. On blind instinct, my arm reaches out and I throw my phone across the room. It crashes against the wall on the far side and hits the floor. After a few more rings, the horrific noise thankfully stops. I lay my head back down on my pillow. I roll to the side to see what the time is, only to realise that I’ve just thrown the very thing that would tell me across the room. Cursing my hung-over brain, I crawl out of bed and retrieve it.

Missed Call. Caller ID unknown.

I’ve had numerous calls from an unknown number. It can only be work related, and I’m not up to dealing with that crap right now. For the past two days, I haven’t bothered to return a single fucking call I’ve received.

I amble into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and peel off last night’s clothes. Glancing at myself in the mirror, it becomes obvious I look like shit. My eyes are bloodshot, and the colour of my skin makes me look like a zombie. Shaking my head at myself, I turn away and step in the shower.

Water runs in rivers over my shoulders, down my back, and over my bowed head. My palms pressed against the cold tiles take my weight. Images of Lizzie’s pussy, swollen and pink with desire flood my mind. Blood flows with force to my cock. The twitch and swell of my erection growing only increases the images. Breathy moans, her taste on my lips, slick thrusts, her convulsions gripping and pulling me deeper. Fuck.

My throbbing cock screams at me, pleading for some release. I can’t stop thinking about her. With my left palm still splayed against the icy tiles, I grasp myself in my right hand before gliding my palm down the tender shaft a few times. The touch releases tension in my shoulders, a groan emits from my throat, as my face falls back into the stream of warm water. Tremors run up my spine as I tighten my fingers slowly around the girth, then rock my wrist to create the movement it’s begging for. With a firm grip and rhythmic pulses, I push myself further to the edge.

What the fuck am I doing?

I release myself and look down at my cock, the head bulging and red in anger.

Well join the fucking club.

I’ve not touched myself, brought on my own release, since I was old enough to get jacked off.

Liar.

My hand spasms with the need to grab hold of the relentless pulse between my legs. Lizzie. I’ve touched myself for her, only ever her. I slam my right palm against the wall, frustrated she holds that claim on me. On my self-fucking-restraint. I’ve been a walking hard-on for the last two days. I grasp at the temperature control and yank it to cold. I need to sort out this shit between us, and I need to do it now.

I exit the shower and barely dry myself off before shrugging on my boxer briefs and a pair of loose joggers. Barefooted and bare-chested, I pad down the stairs and into the kitchen. Bear leans up against the counter, already scowling at me.

Why did I give the fucker a key?

“You’re a fucking mess,” he points out. His tone’s a mixture of concern and disapproval.

“No shit. Tell me something I don’t know.” I fill the kettle and turn it on. “I’m just going to make something to eat, to help the hangover process. That’s if it’s okay with you?”

He ignores my sarcastic comment and continues. “You got your head out of your arse yet?”

“Haven’t you got somewhere to be? A job to go to?” I snarl. I just want him gone. My brain can’t cope with a lecture. I walk past him to the fridge and start getting ingredients out for breakfast.

“I take it Spud’s covering you, just for a change?” He doesn’t let me answer. “You’re a full-time job, mate, and no, I don’t have to go to work. I’ve got the lads running the shifts. So I’m all yours.”

How did I get to be the lucky one?

“Go to work. I’m fine.” Talking into the fridge, I try one last-ditch attempt to get him to leave. I know I’ve got no chance. With the last item dragged from the fridge, I turn to look at him.

“Sorry, not going anywhere, mate.” He hesitates. It’s imperceptible. If I didn’t know how to read him, I would have missed it. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”

That nearly gets my attention, but my sole focus is on getting rid of this fucking hangover. If I’m going to face Lizzie, I need a clear head.

“Can it wait until later? I’ve finally grown a pair, and when I’ve unsaturated my liver I’m going over to Layla’s to sort this shit out. You seem to be best fucking buddies with her. You got her address? Is Lizzie still there?”

Bear’s eyes widen slightly at my questions. “Yeah… yeah, I have it. And when you put it like that, yeah, it can.”

I could be mistaken, but I’m sure I see him breathe a sigh of relief. His forehead crinkles like it does when he’s worried about something.

“Everything okay with you?” The genuine concern for my friend overrides any thoughts of wanting him to fuck off.

He gives me a firm nod. “Yeah, absolutely fine. You want me to make something while you go and get some fucking clothes on?” He motions his head towards the food on the side.

My stomach growls. “Cheers, mate.” I head up the stairs to the sound of Bear clattering around in my kitchen.

When I make it back down, he’s made the fry-ups. He’ll make someone a great wife one day.

“You sure you’re ready to do this?” he mumbles at me through his mouthful of bacon. I’m rethinking the wife thing.

“Got no choice, mate. I need her.” My voice cracks a little and I clear my throat. “That means I’ve got to fight for her.” Although Bear knows the destruction I inflict on myself, we never really talk about my feelings for Lizzie. It’s just the way it is. Thankfully the alcohol seems to have drained itself from my liver, restoring my faculties to some form of working order.

“I don’t think there’ll be much resistance.” He laughs. “But keep that attitude; you’ll need it.”

What is the stupid bastard going on about now? Before I can voice the question he changes the subject.

“Don’t get on your bike for a couple more hours, mate. I know you think you’re safe, but don’t risk your life for a woman.” His forehead creases again.

“I’d die for her,” I state without hesitation, staring directly at him. I know it’s an over exaggeration for the situation, but still, it’s the truth.

He looks over at me, his mouth still full with food, and stares me hard in the eye. “Yeah, I know you would. But don’t you think it’d be a little foolish to do it before you got to see her?”

Fair point, well made. “I’ll leave it a couple of hours.”

Satisfied, Bear pushes his plate away. He gets up, drops a piece of paper with an address on it in front of me, then leaves without another word.

As my leg slides over the frame of my bike and I push the ignition, the usual calm washes through me. Before, my mind and heart were racing at a million miles per hour, so I’m thankful for the instant relief. I listen to the engine ticking over for a moment, and gather my senses as I rein in my fears.

Tweaking the throttle, I head off towards the address on the paper Bear left me. Not long after, I arrive at the crossroads, which tells me I’m near Layla’s house. Spotting a parking area, I decide to pull over and walk the rest of the way. I know I’m just trying to put off the inevitable. As I dismount, adrenaline pours into my system. I give myself a little time to think about how to deal with whatever is going to come my way. I know it won’t be fucking good.

What if she’s in love with him? What if she doesn’t want me? I’ve been such a bastard to her, burying myself in her then turning my back on her. She’s been through so much, and I’ve not behaved like a knight in shining armour. I’ve behaved like the fucked-up bastard I really am.

Sighing, I get off, take off my helmet, and run my hand over my stubbled head. With helmet in hand, I stride purposely down the road. With each step my breathing increases and the band around my chest tightens.

I round the corner to Layla’s and come to an abrupt halt as something catches my eye. My eyes widen and my heart rate increases to near explosive proportions.

No. No. No. My head’s shaking back and forth violently in an automatic response to the thoughts in my head.

This can’t be happening. Not to me. How could she do that?

Fuck.

I’m immobilised, stuck fast by the sight in front of me.

Pain rips through my chest. And I want to scream. She’s heading towards me but I can’t move. I can’t comprehend what I’m looking at. I mean, I knew there was someone else… but, fuck.

I don’t want to believe what I’m seeing. How the fuck could she? I’m struggling to get air into my lungs. Each breath feels like I’m sucking in air through cotton wool.

She gets within a few metres of me before her smiling face looks up. She looks straight into my eyes and hers widen, fear flickering through them. I stand shaking my head, robbed of speech.

I glance down and dark, wide eyes greet mine. “Is he…?”

She takes a small step forward, her hand reaching for me. “Please, Noah. I can explain.” The sound of her nervous voice stimulates my body into motion. I turn and walk away, incapable of saying another word.

Walk away.

“Noah, come back… I can explain.”

I can hear the panic rippling in her voice, but I can’t turn around. Instead, I begin to sprint away from her, from them.

Stay away.

“Noah! Come back… Noah… Please!” She’s yelling, begging. But all I can do is run.

I reach my bike, switch the ignition, slam my helmet on, and screech off in the opposite direction. The growl of my bike engine matches my emotions, and for the first time in my life I don’t find it soothing. It’s just fucking aggravating me.

I just want some peace. Why can’t I have a little bit of fucking peace? My mind is bombarding me with questions I don’t have the answers to. I’m not even sure I want them. I pull back harder on the throttle, hurtling through the streets. Trying to find the calm, which usually accompanies the ride. I’m just not feeling it.

The only place I can think to go is the local beach. I roar up into the car park, and come to an abrupt stop. I kill the engine and dismount like my arse is on fire. With long strides, I reach the sand, and a small bit of relief flows through me.

Taking a glance around, I can see I’m alone on the huge expanse. Not surprising really. It’s certainly not beach weather. The sun that began the day has given way to a dull and gloomy sky. My mind wanders from soothing memories of being a child on this beach to the present. My whole body begins to vibrate with suppressed fury.

I rip off my helmet, and throw both that and my jacket to the damp sand. Feeling the wind whip through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, I stand and watch as the waves crash against the nearby abandoned pier, water swirling and foaming around the base of the wooden posts. My heart beats like a runaway train, and I focus on the water, it’s all I can do to stop my legs giving way under my weight.

I have a son.

I couldn’t disguise my disbelief at looking into my own eyes. Shock is not a word that covers how I feel. I feel betrayed. I feel cheated. I feel… fucking livid. How could she keep him from me? How could she not let me know I have a son?

Fuck!

Anger courses through me, I can feel it burning like lava in my veins. I don’t know how to deal with the unexpected revelation. I run a shaky hand over my head as I continue to watch the waves battering the shore. I don’t think I’m ready to be a dad. For fuck’s sake, I’m a mess. How am I expected to be a role model to anyone?

But he’s not just anyone, he’s mine. There’s no mistaking that. I’m not a fucking idiot. When brown eyes stare back at you with a shock of dark, the spitting image of you when you were a kid, you don’t need a DNA test to prove shit. I don’t doubt for one second that he’s mine. How could she fucking keep that from me?

The same questions flow through my mind over and over. I’m so fucking angry. The sky is overcast, looking like a storm is brewing, reminding me once again of the woman that ripped my heart out. I didn’t think the pain could get worse, but now? Now the searing pain in the gaping cavern of my chest has been renewed with force. I can’t breathe. The crushing pressure surrounds me again. She’s like a wrecking ball destroying every inch of me. I thought I had recovered from her loss but I was wrong. And here she is again, but now she has a son. My son.

I don’t even know his name.

I couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t force a fucking word out after my pathetic question. The surprise of seeing me was evident in her smouldering grey eyes. Those amazing eyes. They haunt my whole existence. I see them in crowds. I see them in reflections. I see them in my dreams, and I see them in every single one of my fucking nightmares. She’s everything. There’s not another woman who even comes close, but I’m her what… nothing? I don’t even rate being told I’m a dad.

I’m a fucking dad.

The storm moves closer. Rain begins to pour down on me, soaking through my T-shirt and jeans, gluing them to my skin. The cold seeps in, but I can’t feel it, my temper produces heat throughout my body. I stand with my face raised to the sky, as the rain cascades over me, dripping in rivulets down my skin. My hands reach for my head again, tugging aimlessly at my skin as I release the scream which has been building in my chest. The power behind the release brings me to my knees. I can’t grasp the situation, the debilitating feeling of helplessness that engulfs every part of me.

The mother of my child is the only woman I’ve ever loved, and that’s a good thing, right? I have so many questions. I don’t know where to start. So I ran. I needed to escape the nagging thoughts of worthlessness she evokes in me. Thunder rumbles and flashes of lightning crackle on the horizon. The rain comes down in sheets, and here I kneel on the sand. I let out a wry laugh. Only me. This could only fucking happen to me.

I’m beginning to realise the self-preservation of running away was a shitty move, but I couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of me. I turned tail and fled like a fucking coward. How’s that for dad material?

I feel like I’m slowly breaking apart, yet with every fragment that splinters from me, another small piece of me is being rebuilt. It’s fucking bizarre. An almost primal love begins to burn in the blackened cavern in my chest. The heart that had slammed back into its cage upon seeing Lizzie has spluttered to life. It’s still black and blue, but the pumps are beginning to buzz.

I have a son. I’m a dad.

My thoughts run haywire but it dawns on me she has tried to tell me. Bollocks. I thought the other man in her life was that fucking Alex. It’s not. It’s my son. Our son. I’m angry as hell with myself. If only I had listened, I would have known. I could have met him. Do I want to meet him? Fuck yes, I do.

I wonder if he knows who I am, if Lizzie has told him anything about me at all. I want to know when his birthday is, what his favourite food is, his favourite TV program, if he has one yet, random shit. I want to be there when he starts school for the first time. When he takes his first real fall, when he needs tucking in at night, I want to be there for all of it.

Lizzie’s pleading screams echo in my head, begging me to stay, offering to explain.

She’s only had three fucking years to explain.

I’ve missed years. Years I’ll never get back. His birth, his first tooth, his first step, his first word. I’ve missed them all. The screaming is persistent and I can’t turn it off. Her eyes flash before mine. Shock and something else flicker through them… fear. She was afraid. Afraid of what? Being caught out?

No, she was afraid of your reaction, you fucked-up bastard.

I get up and head for the shoreline. The incoming waves lap at my boots as I stare out at the horizon.

I’m so fucking furious I can barely breathe. Everyone knew. Everyone I call family knew, and not one of them fucking told me. How long had they known? Why hadn’t they told me? The bastards knew my son was out there in the world and they kept quiet about it. I need to find out why, and I need to do it now.

I pace back to where I left my kit, swipe it up off the ground and sling my jacket on my drenched body. Then I stride back to the car park, mount my bike and slam my helmet on, buzz the ignition, and yank the throttle. She bucks under me, ready for action, and I gun it out of the car park.

A small, but hopeful smile works its way onto my face.

I’m a dad.