Sucker Punched (29 page)

I slide off my stool, my legs feeling wobbly as I pull out my wallet and slap some cash on the bar. “Doesn’t matter what I want. She’s already seeing someone and it sure as hell ain’t me.”

“Then she’s an idiot and you should just forget about her.” She hooks her finger in my belt loop, pulling me toward her. “I can make you forget your own name if you let me.”

A couple weeks ago I would’ve taken Tori up on her offer, but now I know better. Now I know Macy’s not the kind of girl you can forget.

My feet are killing me as I climb out of my car, the snow crunching under my sneakers. I’ve gotten into the habit of leaving a pair in my car at all times, so when I get off work I have something comfy to slip into, like tonight.

Plus it snowed again yesterday and I can’t imagine trying to traverse the patches of ice in four-inch heels. At least not without breaking something.

I lock my car and carefully make my way across the lawn to the front steps. When the porch comes into view, I see Blake sitting next to the front door, slumped over.

Panic seizes me. I drop everything in my hands, rushing up the steps to crouch beside him. “Blake?”

I cup his cold face in my hands and tilt his head back, but he’s unresponsive. Tears burn my eyes, blurring my vision as I part his jacket, frantically searching for any injuries.

I don’t see any.

I grab hold of his face again, lightly smacking his cheek. “Blake!”

His red, unfocused eyes finally open and he grins. “Duchess,” he slurs. “What’re you doing here?”

Jesus Christ, he’s drunk as a motherfucking skunk.

Anger swells in me as I release his face, letting his head flop forward. Two seconds later and I can already hear soft snores coming from him.

I push myself up from the porch, my hands balling into fists as I pace. I’m so mad I could kick him. How could he be this stupid? It’s not even thirty degrees outside! He could’ve gotten hypothermia and died, for fuck’s sake.

I grab my purse and keys from the spot I’d dropped them and unlock the front door, pushing it open. After hanging my stuff up, I go back outside and grab Blake by the feet. 

Good God, this fucker’s heavy.

His head lolls back as I drag him toward the door, smacking the porch with a loud thud. It sounds like a ripe melon. I wince as he groans.

Slowly but surely I drag him inside. By the time he’s sprawled out on the floor of the foyer, I’m tired and sweaty. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. There’s no way in hell I’m going to get him all the way upstairs, so I close and lock the front door. 

He’s got no other option than to sleep it off where he lies.

After I hang up my jacket and purse, I head upstairs and change into my pajamas. Grabbing a bunch of pillows and blankets, I throw them down the stairs, then grab the small trash can from my bathroom.

When I get back to him, I lift his head and slide a pillow underneath him, then roll him onto his side and wedge a couple pillows behind him. If he gets sick, the last thing he needs is to choke on it.

If anything’s going to choke him, it’s going to be me in the morning when I tear him a new one.

I set the wastebasket beside him in case he needs to yak, then cover him up with a blanket. Squatting down, I touch my hand to his cheek, checking his temperature. He still feels a little cold, but it’s nothing to worry about. 

His drinking, on the other hand, is very worrisome. Blake needs help. Serious help beyond what I can do for him.

I brush the hair off his forehead, staring down at his sleeping face. I don’t know how he rung in the New Year tonight, but whatever he did, I hope he did it safer than this.

Using the rest of the blankets and pillows, I make a pallet on the hard tile across from him. “Happy New Year, Blake.”

It takes a lot of self-awareness to recognize when you’re not good for someone. I know I’m not good for Macy. My track record with letting people down proves it. But I’ll be goddamned if I don’t want her anyway.

I should keep my mouth shut and wish her a happy life with Hayden. That’s what I
should
do. 

But as I lean against the doorframe of her bathroom, watching her get ready for yet another date with him, possessiveness floods me. It’s an ugly, bitter feeling, eating away at any selflessness I might’ve felt.

She’s so goddamn beautiful. Like a perfectly wrapped present with a big shiny bow. Only she’s not mine to unwrap. That privilege belongs to Hayden.

Fucking.
Hayden
.

I grit my teeth, trying not to shatter the beer bottle in my hand. “Going out with lover boy again?”

Macy glares at me in the mirror when she hears my nickname for him, but what does she expect? It physically hurts me to say his name.

“Yes.” She dabs more pink crap on her lips, then sets the tube down on the counter and fluffs her already perfect hair.

She seems. . .nervous.

I frown as she squeezes past me, trying to think of what date this is. It’s impossible to keep track of them when she spends almost every goddamn night with him. I lift the hem of her short robe as she passes, tilting my head to see what she’s wearing underneath.

“Excuse you!” She turns around and slaps my hand away.

I should probably care that I just royally pissed her off, but I’m too busy being furious at the black lace thong I saw. “Why are you wearing that?” I ask carefully, setting my beer on top of her dresser.

“Would you rather I wear no underwear on my date? ’Cause that can be arranged.”

I’d rather she not go on this date
at all
. Just the thought of Hayden seeing her in that makes my blood boil.

My hands clench into fists as violent urges swarm me. “Are you gonna fuck him tonight? Or have you already done that?”

Unaffected, she continues to flip through the clothes in her closet. “That’s none of your business.”

The hell it’s not. The day she’s none of my business is the day I drop dead, because that’s the only way it’s going down.

“As someone who wants to fuck you, I think it
is
my business. Tell me, Duchess, is there an application I can fill out to get inside your panties? Or is it more of a wait list?”

I feel like a douche as soon as the words leave my mouth.

I’m complete fucking scum.

Goddamn it, I don’t want to feel like this.

I
want
Macy to be happy. But I want to be happy too, and I realize now that it’s never going to happen if she’s dating someone else.

It’s totally selfish of me but I don’t really care. That’s the beauty of being the dragon instead of the knight.

“I’m sorry.” I take a step forward, stopping short at her glare. “That was way out of line.”

Grabbing a sweater off a hanger, she holds it in her clenched fist. “You keep saying you want to fuck me, but then what? What happens tomorrow, Blake?”

“We fuck again.” Duh.

She gives me a pointed look and I sigh.

“I don’t know, Macy. I can’t predict the future.” Honestly, I haven’t thought about tomorrow. I’ve just been focused on today and what would feel good now, because I’m an instant gratification kind of guy. 

Fuck future Blake. Let him worry about it. 

“No, but you have control over where you stick your dick.” She throws her sweater on the bed and stalks toward me, yanking open the bottom dresser drawer. 

“The only place I want to stick it is in
you
, but you don’t seem to be very accommodating.”

She grabs a pair of jeans, shooting me a look so cold I almost shiver. “Chloe ‘accommodated’ you just fine.”

There it is. 

I was wondering when she’d throw that in my face again. It doesn’t matter that I’ve apologized a million times and haven’t touched another girl since. I’ll pay for that mistake the rest of my life, it seems.

My jaw clenches as I follow her across the room. “Is that why you’re with him? Are you trying to get back at me by fucking him? ’Cause the timing was awfully convenient.”

Dropping the jeans next to her sweater, she whirls around to face me, stabbing her finger at me. “I’m not a slut, you asshole. I’d never fuck someone out of revenge, and the fact that you think I could. . .” Her lips thin, and the way her eyes flare with an equal mixture of anger and hurt breaks my fucking heart.

God, I
am
an asshole. In the logical, rational part of my brain, I know she’d never do that. She’s a duchess. She’d never stoop to that level. And here I am, well on my way to drunk and taking shots at the person I care about most.

Fuck.

I run my hands over my face, angry. Mostly at myself, but a little at Macy. “Then why him? Is it just ’cause he’s better than me?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about
money
, Macy. Security. He can give you a better future than I ever could.”

“If you really think I care about that, then you don’t know me at all.” She shakes her head, holding up her hand like she suddenly doesn’t want to hear it. “You know what? I’m not doing this right now. I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you when you’re three sheets to the wind.”

“I’m one and a half, tops.”

Macy doesn’t think it’s funny. I didn’t really think she would, but I have a serious case of foot-in-mouth disease tonight.

“Then you better drink up. God forbid you’re sober for one fucking night. Just do yourself a favor and pass out
inside
tonight, ’cause I won’t be here to keep your sorry ass from freezing to death.”

She tries to walk around me and I grab her arm. “Why do you care? You’re never fucking here so why does it matter if I’m stone-cold sober or passed out drunk? At least if I’m unconscious I can’t fucking miss you.”

Her eyes flicker, losing some of their heat, but it doesn’t stop her from yanking her arm away. “Well I can’t stick around and watch you drink yourself into an early grave.”

If she were around, I wouldn’t
need
to drink. I drink to forget she’s someone else’s goddamn girlfriend.

“You’re the whole fucking reason I drink!” My fists clench as my voice explodes in the quiet house. I can feel everything I’ve bottled up about to boil over. I’ve been so scared to let it all out—scared of being rejected, scared of ruining what we have—but fuck it. Everything’s gone to shit anyway, and keeping it all inside is slowly poisoning me. I can’t fucking do it anymore. “Do you think it’s easy to watch you date someone else? Because it’s not. Sitting back and letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you—it’s the hardest goddamn thing I’ve ever done and I’m sick of it. I can’t live off these little scraps of attention you give me, not anymore.”

Macy eyes me carefully. “What are you saying?”

My heart pounds behind my ribcage. Once I lay my cards on the table there’s no going back. It’s fucking terrifying.

It feels like I’m about to jump out of a plane without a parachute.

I grit my teeth, bracing for a crash landing. “I’m saying pick me.”

Her gaze narrows like she misheard me, but then her face twists into anger. “I didn’t even know you were an option!” She shoves my chest before launching into a tirade. “You’re the one who said this wouldn’t go anywhere. You’re the one who fucked someone else. You’re the one who turned me down when I told you how I felt!” She accentuates each point with a shove, but I hold my ground as she screams at me. “Excuse me for not knowing that was your way of trying to date me!”

“I didn’t know that’s what I wanted!” I rub my hands over the rough stubble on my cheeks, getting frustrated. I didn’t know how to make heads or tails of what I feel for Macy because I’ve never felt it before. 

I
still
don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or where this is going, I just know that I want her. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. 

It’s not even fucking close.

And no, I don’t know the first thing about monogamy, relationships, or commitment, but goddamn it, I’m at least willing to
try
for this girl. That’s got to count for something, right?

“But now that I’m dating Hayden, you do?
That’s
convenient.” She tries to step around me again. “You just want what you can’t have.”