Blood & Loyalties

“Let’s skip it.” I picked up a pen and rolled it between my fingers. Not because I thought the conversation was over, but more for preparation. She would wear me down until I agreed, and then we would end up out somewhere. Knowing her, it would be someplace where guys were naked.

“No, let’s skip the damn fight you have in your head. We’re going out tomorrow night. I have it all set up, and we get a private show.” Lord.

She narrowed her eyes, challenging me. I really didn’t have the strength.

“Strippers? Really? I’ve seen enough dicks; I don’t really need any more.” Truth be told, I hadn’t seen one in so damn long I would probably have to Google the word “penis” to remember.

Almost nine months, he’d been gone. He had kept telling me he would come back, and part of me had believed him, part of me hoped. The more we talked over the phone, the more I wanted him there with me. The more I learned about him as a person and not just a sex animal in bed, the more I craved him. It sounded weird, but it was true. Getting to know the man behind those killer eyes, I fell harder for him.

I had believed he was coming back, and we would eventually be together, some stupid romance bullshit that I should have known wouldn’t happen. As the time rolled on, doubt crept in.

Then, one minute of one day, a few months ago, changed everything. One look at something that should have never been seen had ended everything. Bam, like a knife to the gut.

I had told myself relentlessly calling everything off was for the best. A few nights of hot sex was never meant to turn into more. Even thinking so was asinine on my part. Our lives intertwined more than I realized and a future wasn’t in the cards for us. I couldn’t stop the ache in my heart, though. Each time my phone rang, and Jag’s handsome face flashed on the screen, it dug the knife in deeper. Stung. Mutilated.

“Hell, yeah. This funk you’re in is over. I’m sick and tired of this shit. I don’t know what it is, but if you’re not here working, you’re at the gym, or you’re holed up in your office at home.” She paused. “You know you can call Jag. He asks about you all the time.”

My eyes shot to hers, slitting in anger. My pulse rose, and heat burned me up. “Have you been talking to him?” I growled, not caring if I sounded like a fucking bitch.

The bitch smiled. “Since you won’t talk to him, he asks me. He’s not giving up on you.”

“I don’t give a shit. I gave up on him. Whose side are you on here?” I stood, pushing the chair back a few feet with the force. My hands lay flat on the surface of the desk as I glared at my best friend.

“Calm your ass down. He hasn’t called in weeks. Would you just tell me what the fuck happened between you two? You’ve been a damn ticking bomb the past few months. Any little thing pisses you off. I’m surprised we haven’t gotten complaints from clients.”

I hung my head in front of me, staring at the top of the desk. I needed to pull my shit together quick. Kiera couldn’t know. No one could.

She was right, though. My anger had gotten the best of me over the simplest of shit. The drawer to my desk wouldn’t shut right. I would be livid, slamming and beating it with anything I could find. The last time, I had to get a new stapler and three-hole punch to recoup the damage. The thing was, though, I could shield the anger for the most part, at least everyone except Kiera. We lived together, worked together, so how would I be able to do that?

I knew it had gotten bad, but at this point, the only way to calm and tame myself was to wear myself down at the gym, spending hours and hours there. Even then, as soon as I got home, all the anger would rush back sucking me into a black hole.

I pulled the chair back up behind me and plopped back down. “Look, I’m sorry. I can’t call him. I don’t want to be with him. He isn’t the guy for me.” The words crushed me, but it was what needed to be said.

“Liar.” She stood from the couch, walked over to the chair in front of me, sat on the edge of it, and stared into my eyes. The weight of her stare pulled me in. “You love him.”

I scoffed. “Hell no, I don’t love him. Are you insane?” I feared she was right. Hell, I knew she was. If our co

“Whatever. You may not want to talk to me, even if I don’t know why, but your ass needs to talk to someone. I can’t keep buying new kitchen cabinets and chairs every time I turn around.” Yeah, she could, but I saw her point. I couldn’t un-see what I had seen, but I needed to lock it somewhere in the back of my brain and forget it. Somehow.

“I’m sorry, alright?” I blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m working on it.”

“I’m worried about you,” she whispered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I know something’s wrong. I wish you’d tell me.”

I wished I could, too, but what I knew could never leave my lips, or everything around Kiera and I would crumble to the ground. I couldn’t risk that. I wouldn’t risk that for my family. Family was the most important thing, even if it cost you everything.

“I’ll get it worked out.” I gave her a short smile, knowing it didn’t reach my eyes. My insides twisted into the tightest knot possible, falling heavily into my gut. “I’m go

Kiera and I came and went as we pleased, knowing when the important moments were when we needed to be in the office to make things work. That day was not one of those days.

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

I stood, grabbing my purse and bag and wrapped the handles around my forearm. “Is that your nice way of telling me I look like shit?” I smirked, feeling a tad bit lighter from the teasing. I missed this, missed the carefree Catarina I used to be. However, I had no idea how to get her back when inside I was breaking into nothingness.

Kiera stood. “Yep. Seriously, you need to sleep and work whatever this is out. It’s eating you alive.” Again, she was right, the perceptive little thing.

“I will,” I choked out then rushed out of the office, keeping my head down so I didn’t have to engage anyone in conversation. Otherwise, it would be another hour until I got home.

Pulling up to the house, Scraper opened the car door for me. He had stayed by my side this entire time. All these years with this man by my side was the longest relationship I had ever had. Sigh.

After climbing the stairs to my room, I quickly changed, throwing everything to the floor. I would deal with it later. Then I crawled into my nice, soft—lonely bed—and the cool sheets caressed my skin as I pulled them up, forming a cocoon around my body. I rested my head on my pillow, pulling the blankets up to my eyes, which I tried to close.

All I could see was Jag. All I could hear was his voice calling to me. All I could feel were his hands flitting across my skin. My heart ached as a light sheen formed over my body. Anxiety rose, and parts of my heart slowly broke apart. With each tear, pain shot through me, and I couldn’t take it.

I threw the blankets off in a huff, flailing over them to climb out of bed, and then rushed to my phone. I scrolled through the numbers, looking for Phillip, and then pushed his number.

“Catarina. It’s early in the day for you.” His voice on the other end was way too chipper.

“I need you to work me out.” It was the only way to make it stop. Anytime I was alone, all my problems swirled so fast around my head they suffocated me until I couldn’t breathe. This was my out, my only release.

“Come on down. I have an hour.”