Homewrecker (Into the Flames #1) (26 page)

My hands shake like the leaves on the trees I was just outside watching. Here comes the train wreck, Kennedy. The sound of that damn train screeches as the headlight blinds me. It shines it’s judgmental light on every bad thing I’ve done, and I swear the bastard driving laughs at me the closer he gets to plowing me down along with destroying my entire life as I know it. Gunnar knows. I don’t have the damnedest clue as to how he knows, but he knows.

There’s no way someone as even-tempered as Gunnar would flip out over something as minor as milk. When the team was brought down by a drug scandal— something that would have pissed off the Pope— he was more upset that he didn’t see it coming to help Cody sooner than he was mad about it. When a clearly half-lit guy totaled his truck a few years back because he was too fucking stupid to let his girlfriend drive, Gunnar simply shrugged it off. The only time I’ve seen him angry to the point that tiny stupid things set him off was when his mother cheated on his dad and left them.

Oh fuck me in the ass with no lube. I’m screwed.

Rushing to the bedroom, I grab my cellphone off the charger and dial Dixon’s number as fast as I possibly can. It doesn’t even ring before it goes to his voicemail, telling me he either has it off, or has my number set to direct forward so he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally answering me if I call.

I watch my feet as I pace the floor and finally decide to call the station. At least calling there will give me a chance of catching him. That is, if he’s even working. The phone rings three times before someone answers and I have to pull the phone away from my ear because the noise in the background is so loud. Whoever answers says their name, but I don’t catch it and have no desire to waste time and ask what he said.

“I need to speak with Dixon Hale.”

“Can I ask who’s callin’, sweetheart?”

“My name’s Kennedy,” I say before rushing out the rest of my words. “If he tells you to hang up, let him know it’s an emergency.”

He’s silent for a second and I almost wonder if Dixon is standing there telling him he doesn’t want to talk to me. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had someone on his crew blow off a chick calling for him. When he finally speaks up and yells for Dixon, I breathe a sigh of relief when he just tells him he has a call instead of who wants to talk to him.

“Hale,” he says cheerfully, but I can tell it’s forced.

For a second I let myself get lost in his voice, imagining for a brief moment that we’re a few weeks back and he’s whispering in my ear while he touches me. I snap out of it quickly when he says hello again.

“It’s Kennedy. Don’t hang up.”

I hear him blow out a breath. When I close my eyes I can see him dropping back against the wall by the phone and dragging his hand through his messy hair before scratching the stubble on his jaw. “So close,” he mutters.

“So close to what?”

The background noise dissipates before disappearing completely so he must shut himself in one of the offices. I repeat my question, forgetting the whole reason I called for a minute.

“I was so close to not thinkin’ about you for more than an hour, Kennedy. If I had made it five more minutes I would have beat my best time in months.”

“Sorry to ruin your record breaking,” I whisper, trying my hardest to conceal the fact that all the feelings for him that I’ve been trying to hide for weeks just hit me straight in the chest. My breath catches knowing he’s still been thinking about me even though this separation was his doing. Reaching up, I wipe the tears away that have started making their way down my cheeks.

“Kennedy, I can’t—I just can’t. Can’t dance around with you anymore. Hearin’ your voice is killin’ me since I know I can’t touch you. You can’t just call to talk to shoot the shit anymore, OK? I can’t do it.”

Snapping out of the haze again, I realize that I haven’t told him why I’m actually calling. When I finally manage to get my mouth open I blurt, “Gunnar knows. I don’t know how, but he knows.”

Silence is all I get. If this were a movie, there would be crickets in the background, mocking me. The faucet behind me drips, splashing in the puddle that has formed on the coffee mug that we were drinking from a little while ago.

“What?” he finally whispers. “How the fuck? When the hell?”

He continues to speak but never gets a full question out so I take the initiative and tell him everything that has happened since the day he broke my heart at the station. He mutters as I speak but I can’t seem to understand any of it.

“Shit.” That’s what I finally understand and I hear it right before my ear gets filled with people yelling again. I try to make out everything being said in the background, but it’s so loud and there are so many people yelling at once that it’s impossible. Hollering over the noise, I try to get Dixon’s attention to find out what we need to do, but the line goes dead, leaving me talking to myself.

Cue panic
.

Gunnar

The second I’m inside and spot Dixon, I see red. As soon as I’m close enough, my fist hits his face twice and he goes down. I know it was only that easy because I caught him off guard, so I take advantage of it. Reaching down, I grab him by the collar and pull him back up to meet my fist again. Again, and again, and again.

The red I saw before is replaced with blood. His, mine, hell I don’t know it could be from his face and my fist for all I know. I don’t really care as long as I keep hitting. This guy, this piece of shit under my fist right now, is someone I’ve never contemplated hitting before. He has been my best friend, my brother, for longer than I can remember. I never had a reason to
want
to hit him before today. He’s always been the person doing the hitting because he knew I wouldn’t. It was never because I didn’t want to fight for what I thought was right, or mine. It was because I didn’t see the point of getting riled up and hitting someone because of something that could be overlooked.

Until now.

Right now I understand why hitting someone is sometimes a good thing.

Now I get why people say that beating the shit out of someone is therapeutic.

Did I hesitate before hitting him? You’re damn right I did. There’s only one other person in the world that has me this twisted up inside and I just walked away from her so I didn’t take this aggression out entirely on her or the house. Every hit that connects with his face digs more of the grave I plan on burying the relationship we had in.

I continue swinging when people grab me and pull me off of him. Everyone is yelling, trying to figure out what the hell is going on while getting me to calm down at the same time. Every breath I take right now is fueled by rage, so I don’t see calming down happening anytime soon. Not when my entire world has fallen apart and it feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest. The only thing I can do is make his face hurt as much as my heart does.

Dixon stands to his full height and wipes the blood from his split lip and nose. When he finally looks at me, I expect to see anger built up from me hitting him, but it’s not there. There’s nothing but vacant pain filling them.

Lifting his hand, he waves at everyone. “Let him go, guys. Let him hit me all he wants. I deserve it.”

All of my suspicions get confirmed with those last three words. I was hitting him with no real proof, but I needed to. I knew deep inside that everything I thought was going on, was actually happening. My wife, the woman I’ve loved my entire life, cheated on me. I know it would hurt no matter what, but I don’t think I would be this worked up if it were someone else. Anyone else. Why did it have to be Dixon? Why the hell did my best friend have to be the one she ran to? The knife they stabbed me in the back with couldn’t be deeper if they had fucked on the kitchen table while I ate dinner.

“Hit me,” he says, spreading his arms to the side. When I don’t, he balls his fists and roars. “I said hit me, goddamn it!”

I can’t. My arms suddenly feel as if they weigh a thousand pounds each and I feel completely defeated. “It’s not as satisfyin’ when you want it.”

“There’s a difference between wantin’ it, and deservin’ it.”

“That’s funny because there’s a big difference between my wife and your usual whores, but you didn’t seem to realize that.”

The crowd that had gathered scatters when Dixon tells them to get lost. I kind of want to tell him that he should keep the witnesses, but I don’t. I stand in silence for a minute, trying to calm myself down but I can’t. Nothing helps ease the uncontrollable rage that I feel. All I feel is the shattering betrayal caused by two of the most important people in my life.

How could they do this to me?

Why would they knowingly destroy all of our lives by being so selfish?

“Why her?” I bellow. “You couldn’t be like a normal brother and steal shit like headphones or clothes? You had to go for my wife? What… you couldn’t handle one fuckin’ woman not bein’ part of your fuck club?” Slamming my hand to my chest, I glare at him. “Kennedy has always been mine, Dixon. Always. How could you do this, knowin’ what she means to me?”

“Gunnar,” he starts but shakes his head and goes quiet when I keep yelling.

“She’s the only thing in this world that I promised myself I wouldn’t share with you. Anything else. Fuckin’ anything else I would have handed to you on a silver platter but you had to take her.”

“She’s not a damn possession, Gunnar,” he interrupts. “She’s a person with a heart and a mind of her own.”

I rush him, pinning him between the wall and my chest. “You don’t think I know that?” I spew. “She’s my
wife
. I’ve seen every part of her. I’ve felt the love her heart is capable of. And I’ve lived with that mind and listened to the ideas it’s created over the years. Don’t fuckin’ tell me what I already know. Do you even know what the hell a heart is, Dixon? Last I knew you were a piece of shit with an empty chest.”

He nods and I throw another punch, this time avoiding his face and hitting the wall beside his head. I know I’ll feel the pain later, but right now with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I’m not.

“One thing. How is it hard to leave one goddamn thing alone? My marriage is fuckin’ destroyed because you couldn’t stand not being able to have one thing. Is it like a fuckin’ game to you? Do you get off on the disaster you create?”

“I never meant to—”

“To what? To accidentally stick your dick in my wife? On numerous occasions I’m guessing. Or was it that you never meant to make her question what we had and what she wanted? Goddamn it, she only started that shit a few months ago, so I’m guessing that all this started then! Or was it that you didn’t mean to fuck her so much she started to think you wanted her so you dropped her like you normally do? Once is a mistake, Dixon. Every time after that is a choice. You guys purposely fuckin’ make the choice to keep goin’ behind my back.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Dixon admits. The cocky tone that usually fills his voice is gone and he sounds depressed. It’s almost like I’m talking to the male version of how Kennedy has been lately.

“I’m jokin’ would be good,” I deadpan. “But I’m guessing I won’t get those words with any hint of truth behind ‘em.” He stays silent, solidifying the fact that I’m right. “After everything my dad and I did for you, this is how you repay me? By takin’ the one thing in my life that I never had to question before, and stabbin’ me in the back?”

“I’m sorry, Gunnar. More than I’ll ever be able tell you.”

“If you think an apology is goin’ to fix this, you must have some serious damn brain damage from smoke inhalation. Nothing you will ever say is goin’ to take back what you two have done.”

“I know, man. I never thought it would. And if you had just let it go with an apology, I would seriously question how much you love her.”

“Do you wanna know how much I fuckin’ love that girl? She hurts, I hurt. When she cries, it tears my fuckin’ heart open and leaves it bleeding until I can make her smile again. I’d kill someone if they hurt her and it wasn’t something I could fix. This, though,” I say, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. “Knowin’ that the pain she’s been feeling lately is because of you while I was rackin’ my brain, wantin’ nothin’ more than to make everything better for her somehow… fuck. I never thought anything could hurt this goddamn much, that I could feel so helpless.”

I take a deep breath and force myself to back away from him more. He’s the reason all of this is going on and it’s his fault that Kennedy has been hurting for the past few weeks and wouldn’t tell me why so I could fix it. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he stops breathing, until he can’t hurt anyone anymore, but I know that won’t change anything. I know it isn’t completely his fault and that Kennedy is just as much to blame. Believe me, the anger I feel toward her is indescribable. Couple that with the hurt of knowing she chose to continue doing it behind my back fucking kills.

“It just happened,” he says, his excuse making my blood boil again. “Neither of us expected it, and the last thing either of us wanted was to hurt you. I never wanted that, but…”