Love Thy Neighbor (31 page)

“Yeah, girl?”

I whisper, “My ass is asleep.”

His body shakes against mine and I lean back
to watch him laugh.

Nothing could be better than this.

Chapter Twenty-Four
The Ghost returns

Taking a break from my work, I head on over
to the chillout room, walk to the sofa and land with a plop.

Watching Nat all day long is giving me some
serious issues. Everyone’s gonna know about us if I walk around all
day with a hard-on. And not just a stiffy but a full-on raging
hard-on. It’s like my dick knows she’s on the screen and wants to
get closer to her.

I spent most of last night thinking about
what’s happening here. I came to a conclusion.

Nat is a witch and she’s cast a spell on
me.

Yep. That’s the only explanation I could
come up with. Why else can’t I stop thinkin’ about her?

I think about her all the time. When I’m at
work. When I’m at home. When I’m at the gym. When I’m in bed with
her, fuckin’ holding her. She’s in my brain, hijacking my thoughts
all the time. And it annoys me, but when I see her, I don’t give a
fuck about anything other than touching her or holding her or even
just talking to her.

A scowl forms on my face and my lip
curls.

I don’t do warm fuzzies.

See?

Witch.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back on the
sofa and sigh. Last night she asked me if I was trying and I am. I
really am. But I don’t know where to go from here. I need
advice.

The seat depresses and I feel something cold
press into my hand. Opening my eyes I see Nik on the seat next to
me, watching me through narrowed eyes. “Who shit in your
cereal?”

I open the soda he’s placed in my hand and
sip without answering.

He nods long and slow before muttering,
“Ahh. Woman problems.”

Scowling at him, I lie, “You’re way off,
bro.”

He leans back from me, eyebrows raised. “Oh
yeah? I’m wrong? You’re forgetting who’s got a pregnant wife at
home.” He nods. “That look? I know that look. Fuck. I invented that
look. You owe me royalties for using it.”

I can’t help but chuckle. Nik knows how to
make a funny.

Giving in, I ask, “When you first realized
you were in love with Tina…what did that feel like?”

He leans back with his arms resting behind
his head. He sighs through his smile and says, “Still feelin’ it,
man. Still affects me.” Turning to face me, he goes on, “Feels like
no one else matters, just her. Like she’s the center of my world.
Every time I see her, I just want to touch her. I want everyone to
know she’s mine. She makes me happy. I know I’ll never love anyone
as much as I love her. Well, maybe Tatiana and the new baby, but
Tina, she’s always gonna be my girl. A fuckin’ hurricane.”

Fuck.

That’s how I feel about Nat.

I frown at my thoughts. Nik continues, “Now
I’m not saying you’re seeing her or whatever, but if Nat was my
girl…” I turn to glare at him and he bursts into laughter. Through
his laughter, he says, “…If she were my girl, I know she’d want it
all.”

Okay, my interest is fuckin’ peaked now.

Still glaring at the ass, I ask, “What do
you mean?”

Nik’s smiling face becomes thoughtful as he
replies, “Nat isn’t the type to do anything half-assed. If she
wants it, she wants it all. She might be happy with what you’re
givin’ her right now, buddy, but sometime in the future, she’s
gonna expect you to man up and bite the bullet.”

What bullet?

Confused, I ask, “What bullet?”

It’s Nik’s turn to glare at me. He says,
“Wake the fuck up and clue the fuck in. Marriage, Ghost. She’s
gonna want it. Is that something you can offer her? Because if it’s
not, I suggest you break it off right now.”

Marriage? Fuck me.

Random thoughts swirl through my head.

I want to be with her. I don’t want anyone
else to have her. If I put a ring on her finger, it would mean
she’s all mine and will be for life. I suddenly wonder why the
thought of marriage used to make me feel like I’d swallowed a pint
of lead paint. I could do marriage with Nat.

Nik breaks me out of my thoughts. He quietly
tells me, “She isn’t going to want someone who pushes her away when
shit gets tough. She’s going to want a man who’ll talk to her, talk
through issues and she’ll want to help with those issues.” Leaning
back again, he says, “Love you like a brother, man, but Nat’s like
my sister, so if you break her heart, you leave me no choice but to
break your nose.” I look over at him and his lip twitches as he
says, “Not that you’re dating her. Just saying.”

Without another word, he winks at me, stands
and leaves me sitting on the sofa with a hundred more questions
than I had to begin with.

The question is, can I be the man Nat
needs?

***

Walking into my apartment after a long day
at work, I slip off my heels and yell out, “Honey, I’m home!” I’m a
very 1950’s sitcom way.

No response.

My brow furrows.

That’s strange. Ash is normally here and
waiting on me after the longer shifts I have. He must still be at
home, which is fine because I need a shower real bad before I get
some sweet, sweet lovin’. I stink.

Dropping my bag on the counter with a sigh,
I walk into my bedroom and turn on the light. I squeak when I see
Ash sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting for me. Clutching my
chest, I chuckle and say, “Babe. Word of warning. No sneaky-ups on
me. That’s the best way to get a concussion.”

His elbows rest on his knees and he holds
his fisted hands in front of his mouth. He looks deep in thought,
so I figure I’ll leave him to it. I walk over to him, kiss his
forehead and tell him, “I got to have me a shower. Your lady is a
very stinky one today.” Just as I walk away from him he says, “Nat,
come back here.”

Not turning, I utter, “In a second, babe. I
really need that shower.”

He says, “Nat. I’m leaving.”

I walk into the bathroom to turn on the
shower and reply, “Okay, I’ll be over in about fifteen. I just
gotta-”

My body shakes in shock as he roars, “Sit.
The fuck. Down.” He yells so loudly that the veins in his neck
bulge.

Placing my hand on my chest, I feel my heart
race through my palm. I whisper, “Okay,” then move to sit on my
bed. Something tells me this is not the time to argue so I
don’t.

I know. I’m as shocked as you are.

Unease flows through me. Something’s not
right.

Searching his face, my heart squeezes as I
take in his cold expression. He says firmly, “This- this thing.
It’s not good and it has to stop.”

No. God, no.

Tingles hit the bridge of my nose and my
eyes sting. I ask quietly, “What thing?”

He waves an arm out to me and mutters, “This
you and me thing. I’m changing everything about myself for you and
I don’t like it. So, no more. We said that when one of us wasn’t
into it anymore, we’d call it quits and I’m not into it
anymore.”

My chest aches with every beat of my racing
heart.

My heart is breaking. Shattering into a
million pieces.

His gaze hits the floor. He places his hands
on his hips and stands tall. He says, “I liked it. I mean, I do
like you. It’s just not for me. You need another type of guy. A guy
I can’t ever be.”

Where is this coming from?

My stomach clenches. Lifting myself from the
bed, I croak, “All I need is you.”

He looks me in the eye and spits, “I’m not
even a full man, Nat. Fuck! I’m barely half of one.”

Walking closer to him, I reach out and touch
his arm. I say through my stuttering breaths, “I’ll help you. We’ll
go through it together, one day at a time.”

Snatching his arm away from me, he yells,
“You can’t fix me!”

Losing my shit, I yell back, “I don’t want
to fix you! I love you!”

He lowers his head in defeat. Placing his
hands on his hips, he says quietly, “I have nothing to offer
you.”

Tears stream down my face. I tell him, “Your
love
is
something.”

“I don’t know what love is,” he whispers,
avoiding my gaze.

Silence.

We both stand so close to each other, but I
feel like I’ve lost him. I’m not losing him without a fight. I wipe
my fallen tears and ask quietly, “Where is this coming from,
Ash?”

He exhales loudly and paces in front of my
closet. Not answering my question, he says, “When we’re little, we
ask our moms to check under the bed for monsters. My monsters
weren’t living under my bed. My monsters…” He points to his temple.
“…My monsters were in here. They still are. You wanna be with
someone like that? Someone like Cole? Because I’m worse than him.
You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve done. It would make your skin
crawl.”

Liquid anger singes my veins. I cry and
shout, “You’re nothing like him! Don’t say that! You’re not like
him!”

His face changes to something cruel and
dark. He takes the two steps over to me and wraps his hands around
my throat, gripping tight. He cuts off my air slowly, slowly til I
can’t take in a full breath. And I’m letting him. He snarls through
gritted teeth, “You think I’m not like him? I’ve killed before. I’d
do it again. You can’t change me. Evil breeds evil. Just like my
dad.”

I reach up and hold onto his arms, I don’t
claw, I don’t fight, just hold onto him. My vision turns fuzzy as
pressure builds in my face, my ears block. I choke out on a
whisper, “You’re not him,” then gasp, “I know what you’re
doing.”

His face changes to something more than
pained. Devastation.

He drops his hands from my throat and I sink
to my knees in a heap, gasping and coughing. His voice is cold when
he speaks without looking at me, “I’m leaving. Got shit to work
out.”

A single tear trails down my cheek.
Breathing heavily, I clutch my sore throat with shaking hands.
Looking up at him, I whisper, “If you leave me now, I don’t know if
I’ll ever want you back.”

His eyes hold mine for a solid minute. Then
he turns and walks out of my room.

I start to hyperventilate.

I hear the apartment door close, and it
feels so final that I do the only thing I can in this
situation.

I slump forward, my shaking hands barely
supporting me, close my eyes tight and howl my sorrow.

***

Someone knocks on Asher’s apartment
door.

It’s been four days since he left. He hasn’t
come home. Not once.

I’m worried.

He won’t return my calls or even text me
that he’s okay. I spent yesterday night in his bed, hoping that if
he came home, he wouldn’t have the heart to move me or tell me to
get out, but he didn’t come home.

The girls are trying to figure out what’s
wrong with me, but I can’t stomach telling them. I called Nik last
night and begged him to tell me where he was, but he said Ash never
told him where he was going. So now Nik knows. He said, “Give him
time, sweetheart. He’s got a lot to deal with. The demons in his
head are sometimes stronger than he is.”

So now someone knocks on his door and my
heart pounds. I automatically think the worst. I imagine it’s a
couple of officers standing there, bracing themselves to tell
Asher’s loved one that he won’t be coming home. Ever.

My gut twists and tears blur my vision.

I may not have been loved back but he was my
loved one.

Unable to stand not knowing, I throw open my
door and glance down the hall. A tall, older woman stands there.
She turns to face me. I get a good look at her face and immediately
I know who she is. My face voids of any emotion and I ask, “Can I
help you?”

She asks politely, “Excuse me. I was just
looking for my son. Do you know Asher Collins? I’m Grace.”

My heart races in anger and my breathing
heavies. Rage twists my gut and I flush.

Grace.

I want to punch this woman in the throat. No
wonder Ash threw his phone at a wall. It was his mother
calling.

How dare she come here?

She’s dressed like any other mom. This
could’ve been my mom. Wearing white linen pants and a light yellow
blouse, she looks as if she could be Mother of the Year. Her hair’s
styled in a short, neat bob. She looks prim and proper.

Oh my, how looks can be deceiving.

My blood boils and before I can control it,
my mouth opens and hate flies out. “Oh no, mommy. You have no right
to be here. How dare you come here?”

Her face becomes pained. Her eyes… Asher has
her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak but I cut her off. I glare
at her through narrowed eyes and tell her, “He is not your son. In
order for him to be your son, you would’ve had to protect him at
some point in your dismal life. But you didn’t. Did you?”

Her face crumbles, and I get a twisted sense
of pleasure knowing that I’m hurting her. I spit, “Despite all the
ugliness you helped put in his life, he survived. You know you
helped put that ugliness there, don’t you?” Tears of rage pour down
my face. I croak, “You stood there while your husband burnt holes
into him, cut him like a piece of meat, beat him and broke his
bones. You did nothing to stop that. You should be ashamed of
yourself.”

She covers her mouth with her hand, closes
her eyes and silently sobs.

I need to make her hurt. I want her heart to
break.

I say quietly, “You can forget about
him…because he forgot about you a long time ago. And I am not a
hateful person, but I hate you and your husband both the same. If
there is any justice in this world, his daddy will be shoveling
shit in hell. You aren’t his mother. You are nothing. I am his
family.”