Awaken Me (The Jaded Series Book 4) (9 page)

I wonder how long it will take before Nick decides he doesn’t want me here anymore and tries to kick me out. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t yet. I blame it on him not being quite himself. He was so drunk this morning that he didn’t even realize Jaxon and I were moving him. I’m shocked he was moving as well as he was a bit ago. Yes, he still looked groggy and hungover, but he didn’t really act like it.

I roll over with my back facing the back of the couch and hug part of the blanket to my chest. My eyes drift closed and a few minutes later I’m out.

I wake to a loud banging coming from the kitchen. When I pull my eyes open and sit up, I don’t see Nick, but I hear his curses. I also smell fresh-brewed coffee and my mouth waters. Light filters in from the sliding glass door, and I wonder what time it is.

Before I get a chance to check my phone, another loud crash comes. I bolt up off the couch and make my way to the doorway. I come to a halt when I see Nick, his back to me. He’s barefoot and is still wearing the sweats from last night. The shirt is gone, leaving his toned torso bare. I almost drool before I stop myself. Seeing even his back in the light of day mesmerizes me.

On his lower right side there is a rainbow that only has the colors black, blue, and green. The blue and green are bright against the black. Across both shoulder blades is a bird of some kind. Its wings expanded. It’s mostly black, but there are bright yellows, greens, and reds throughout the entire bird.

I guess he senses me standing there, because as soon as I move to walk in the kitchen, he whirls around and barks, “Stop.”

I freeze in my tracks.

“I dropped a coffee mug and there’s glass on the floor,” he says and walks over to a door, opens it, and pulls out a broom. Looking down, I see blue glass all over the floor. I totally missed it while I was ogling his body.

“I can help.” I take a step into the kitchen, but don’t get far.

“Fucking stay there, Chris,” he says, and pins me with his intense blue eyes. “No sense you cutting your feet to help when I can do it myself.”

I stay where I’m standing as he sweeps the broken glass into a pile, being careful to get it all. The muscles in his arms flex slightly with every swipe of the broom. Once he’s done, he grabs a dustpan from the same closet and deposits the mess in the garbage can.

He turns to me after he puts the broom and dustpan away. His eyes sweep up and down my body, and I swear I see desire in his eyes a split second before they narrow. I watch with trepidation as a tic appears on his scruffy jaw. His hands bunch into fists at his sides. It’s not until his eyes linger on my legs that I realize I’m standing there with no pants on.

Crap!

“Where the hell are your pants?” he asks, his lip curling up in disgust.

I wince and shuffle my feet backward through the doorway, keeping my eyes locked on his.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I jumped up when I heard a crash. I forgot to put them back on.”

I stand there like an idiot as he continues to watch me.

After a couple of seconds, he lifts his brow. “What are you standing there for?”

I turn on my heel and rush back to the living room.

“Jerk,” I mutter to myself.

“What?” he hollers.

I ignore him, grab my pants, and fight to pull them up my legs. I also maneuver my bra back on. My boobs aren’t big, but still big enough for a man to tell if I’m not wearing a bra. And I know my nipples are hard.

Shit. I wonder if Nick noticed.

I make a pit stop in the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face, and pee. I try to tame my hair, but there’s no help for it. After looking in the cabinet, I find a comb and spend several minutes trying to brush out the tangles. Giving up, I take the hair tie I always have on my wrist and pull it back into a loose bun. When I make it back to the kitchen, Nick is standing in front of the stove cooking something.

“What are you making?” I ask and walk over to the coffeemaker to pour myself a cup.

“Pancakes. You’re leaving today, right?” he deadpans.

I feel a little pain in my chest. It shouldn’t surprise me; I knew he would ask sooner rather than later.

Instead of answering his question, I ask one of my own.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

I don’t look at him when I ask, but I feel his gaze on me. He waits a few moments before answering.

“Fine. A bit of a headache,” he replies.

I peek at him from under my lashes and see he’s back to flipping pancakes. He has one hand on the counter beside the stove, leaning on it. His head is bent, and I can tell he’s thinking about something. I wonder if it’s Anna.

“Do you need help?” I ask.

“No,” he says simply, without looking at me.

I grab my coffee and go sit at the bar. Although I’m glad he’s at least being somewhat cordial, it still saddens me that he disregards me without a second thought.

We both stay silent, me with my thoughts on Nick and the devastation that surrounds him, and him with… well, there’s no telling.

I watch as he stacks pancake after pancake on a plate. He pushes the pan to the back burner, turns the stove off, and places a few pancakes on a separate plate before setting it in front of me. I’m about to get up and grab the butter and syrup when he appears with both and puts them down as well.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

All I get in response is a grunt.

I stay silent after that. No sense trying to start a conversation with him. He obviously doesn’t want to talk. Instead, I watch as he prepares his own pancakes with his back to me. The smooth lines of his back grab my attention. He’s tanned beneath the tattoos and has a few freckles scattered about. When he moves his arms, the muscles in his back move with him. My eyes drift down to his butt. The sweats he’s wearing hang loose on his hips. When he turns around, I know I’ll see the sexy V that all girls drool over. I’m no different. It’s been complete torture keeping my eyes above his chest since I’ve been in the kitchen.

And sure enough, as soon as he turns around, my eyes automatically go to the V before I can stop them. They linger there a few seconds before I drag my eyes up his stomach that’s covered in a light dusting of hair, over his well-defined pecs, up his stubbled neck and jaw, and then finally to his eyes, which are watching me.

He lifts a brow at my blatant staring, and I drop my eyes to my plate, knowing my face is now bright red. This is the second time he’s caught me staring at him.

Out the corner of my eye, I see him walk around the bar and take a seat next to me. After smothering my pancakes in butter and syrup, I cut them into pieces and start eating.

“What time is it?” I ask between bites, trying once again to draw him into a conversation.

“A little after ten,” is all he says, before shoveling a bite of food in his mouth.

I take another bite as well.

“How did you sleep last night?” I prod.

“I didn’t,” he replies with a mouthful of food.

My fork stops midair, and I look over at him. Now that he’s mentioned it and he’s closer to me, I can see the start of dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired and worn down. Even more so than usual.

My heart breaks for him when I realize why he didn’t get any sleep. It’s because I downed his alcohol. He drinks himself into such oblivion that his body gives him no choice but to shut down to recuperate. I wonder how often his dreams slip past the fog of drunkenness, as they did last night. I’m not under the illusion the reason he dragged me down on the bed and was practically fucking me through our clothes is because he was dreaming of me. No, the dream had to have been about Anna, and his body automatically reacted to mine, thinking it was Anna.

It doesn’t matter either way, because what he’s doing is dangerous. If he continues the way he is, there’s going to be a time he goes too far. I understand his need to block out memories and dreams, but he needs to find a better way. Some way that won’t ultimately harm him, even if that’s what he wants. Grief counseling would be ideal, but I don’t see Nick willing to go that route.

“I’m going to call Jaxon,” he says, pulling me from my thoughts. When I bring my focus back to him, he’s not looking at me, but at his now empty plate. “I want you out of my house today. You don’t need to be here.”

Again, his words hurt, even though they shouldn’t. It’s no surprise he wants me gone. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. But I’d started to think that since he wasn’t being quite as harsh with me, maybe he is becoming… I don’t know… used to me being around?

He doesn’t wait for my reply. Just gets up and carries his plate to the sink and dumps it in. He stands there for several moments, hands braced on the counter, looking outside through the trees. I wonder what he’s thinking.

I’ve lost my appetite, so I just set my fork down and sit there and wait. I have no idea what to say to him. I do know that if I can help it, I won’t be going anywhere today. He may not like it, but damn it, someone needs to care for him since he’s not doing it himself.

I’m just about to break the silence when I hear a car door slamming outside. I jerk at the unexpected noise at the same time Nick turns around with a scowl on his face.

“Now who the fuck is here?” he mutters.

He walks off to see, and I get up to follow. I’m walking through the kitchen doorway when my phone starts ringing. I veer off to answer it, not bothering to look at the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Chris,” Bailey says in her sweet voice. “I was calling to let you know Jaxon and Mac are on their way over to check on things. They should be there any minute.”

I turn to the door as Bailey speaks, and sure enough, both Jaxon and Mac are standing there with Nick. They both have worried frowns on their faces. I can’t see Nick’s but I’m sure it carries the same dirty look as before.

“Yeah, they just got here,” I tell Bailey distractedly, watching the interaction between the guys.

“Okay, good. I sent a couple changes of clothes with Jaxon, just in case. Just some that you left at the house when you stayed here.”

Bailey knows my feelings toward Nick. I haven’t outright said anything to her, but she’s the one person who knows me the most. She’s seen the way I look at him, how my eyes follow him and how they turn sad when he’s around and acting his normal assholish self toward me. She knows it’s killing me inside watching him self-destruct. And she knows I would do just about anything to make it better for him, to help him in any way I can, or make his life easier.

“Thanks.”

I watch as Jaxon looks over at me, his brow creased in concern. I try to give him a reassuring smile, but I’m sure it looks fake. He looks back to Nick, says something quietly, and they all step outside.

I’m pulled back to the conversation when Bailey asks me, “How are things?”

Bailey still carries guilt for what happened to Anna, and therefore feels responsible for Nick’s depression. She has nothing to feel guilty for, as so many others have told her. However, I don’t know if Nick has ever talked to her about it. I get the feeling he hasn’t, which pisses me off. As far as I know, Nick’s never blamed Bailey, at least not out loud, but he’s got to know she feels responsible. He should have spoken to her and reassured her she was not to blame. Bailey gave herself up to save Anna. Yes, the outcome was horrible and the sacrifice was in vain, but it was no less important. Bailey was devastated afterwards. Nick needs to realize that and make it better for Bailey. I think he’s the only one who can, since he was the most affected by Anna’s torture and death.

With all this, I’m reluctant to tell Bailey just how bad it is here, but I won’t lie either.

“It’s not good, Bailey,” I tell her somberly. “Nick isn’t doing well. I’m going to stay here a couple more days.”

I hear a sniff over the line, indicating Bailey is trying to hold back her tears. It hurts to know she’s still in so much pain over this. I have to talk to Nick about it, make him understand that he
has
to talk to Bailey.

“How is he treating you?” she asks.

I laugh bitterly. I sink down onto the couch and prop my elbow on my knee with my head in my hand.

“Not as bad as usual, which I’m grateful for, but he still hates me.”

“Oh, Chris,” Bailey breathes across the line. “He doesn’t hate you. I think it’s like Jaxon said. You make him feel and he doesn’t like it.”

“Ha! I make him feel, alright. Disgust and revulsion. It was all over his face today when I walked into the kitchen with just a shirt and panties.”

“What?” Bailey yells, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear. “Why were you in just your shirt and panties? Did something happen?”

“Relax, Bailey. Geesh!” I roll my eyes at her dramatics. Of course she would think something happened. “I took my jeans and bra off before I went to sleep on the couch.”

“Oh,” she says disappointedly. She’s not the only one. I know it’s just a pipe dream and Nick is in no way ready for a relationship, but a girl can’t help but wish.

“Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to prepare for my battle with Nick over me not leaving.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything,” she says.