The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (28 page)

“No . . . After that, he said in the dream his mommy was me. He’s scared, Aidan. On some subconscious level, he thinks what happened to his mother was his fault. And now that we’re getting close, he’s afraid to fail and lose me.”

My skin prickles at knowing my son’s deepest fears are so close to my own. “Well since your belongings will arrive tomorrow, you can go back to your place. Maybe if you aren’t around so much, it’ll be easier for him.”

“You fucking asshole. Don’t do that to him.”

She knows me well enough to know I’m putting the walls back up firmly in place, but she won’t let me do it easily.

“Do what? He’s not talking to some quack who will only make it worse.”

She releases a breath to show her annoyance at my bullshit as she rolls over and lies flat on her back. “No, I meant don’t put your shit on him. If this is too hard for you and you just want to be done with me, say it before I get any closer to that little boy.”

The hole is deep, but I have to dig my way out because just hearing the words that us being done is a possibility makes me realize I’m handling this all wrong. “How can I be done with you?”

“You did it before.”

The sadness in her tone softens me. I roll onto my side facing her. Her face is highlighted by the light in the hallway she left on. This would be easier in the dark, when I didn’t have to see how tense this conversation has become.

“I might have left you, but I was never done with you. Even when I found Maria again, you were always there. And you knew it. That’s why you waited so long for me.”

I thought I was saying something reassuring, but she looks at me like I’ve only made things worse and I would have been better off keeping my mouth shut.

“Time I wasted, because you’re still too jaded by things that were never your fault to admit how you feel.”

“I’m trying, goddamn it!” I didn’t mean to yell and when she flinches at my tone, I realize the baggage I carry will always be there to steer me in the wrong direction.

“What’s holding you back? What do I have to do to make you see me? Do I need to dye my hair black and cover my body in tattoos so you’ll keep your eyes open when you touch me? I know you picture her face every time you kiss me. I can feel it, but I can also feel how much you want to care about me. I’m not her and I never will be, because I’m here and I’m real and I love you. And I love that little boy. Please let her go. Take a chance . . . Believe you love me, because I believe you do. I know you do.”

I reach for her face, but she turns her head, unable to accept any affection or simply unwilling to. She’s extremely hurt and rightfully so. Always seeking what’s easier, I intentionally pushed for a fight. Having not a clue how to make things right only serves to bring my anger to the surface, which between the two of us, will end in certain disaster.

“
I don’t want you to be her. I want you to be your perfect, beautiful, amazing self. I haven’t told you I love you because deep down, I know I always have. And that makes me feel like that little boy’s mother died in vain and that fucking guts me. If I just stayed with you and loved you like I wanted to, Maria would still be alive.”

Her expression doesn’t change at all. I’m not even certain she heard me until her eyebrows lift. “That’s awfully convenient isn’t it? I know you feel guilty, but don’t use him or Maria as an excuse. You made a choice and you don’t get to change it.”

She knows nothing about the choices I’ve made and what I live with every day. Her condescending tone and the way she looks at me like she’s solved some riddle brings my anger to a boil. I don’t want to be accountable. Guilt is easier, but Peyton won’t accept excuses. I don’t know why I ever thought this could work.

A woman who can read me can hurt me. Maybe I need a woman I can manipulate so I don’t have to face the demons. I’m balancing too much as it is. “No, I can’t change it. But nonetheless, I chose wrong. Just like it was wrong to ask you to stay here with me.”

“No. You know what? This time . . .” She swallows hard before lifting her hand. “I was wrong.” Before I can catch her arm, she leaps out of bed. She breathes heavy as she changes into jeans and a T-shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask as the fear of her leaving creeps up on me.

“I actually thought you were capable of loving me. But you can’t, and it isn’t because of Maria or Javier. You can’t because you’re too preoccupied feeling sorry for yourself.”

It takes her only five minutes to erase every trace of her from the loft. Every instinct I have is telling me to go after her. But my ever-foolish pride won’t allow it. If I feel hurt now, it will only be worse if I go after Peyton and beg her to stay with me. I’m all out of fight. Or I’m too scared to fight because every time I do someone gets hurt.

N
ight turned to day as I laid awake, wallowing in the anger I have no business feeling. Peyton didn’t do anything wrong. She called me out on my shit again and I didn’t like it. To save face, I reverted to the heartless dick I used to be, because that guy can compartmentalize his feelings much easier than I can. He’s better at protecting my heart. But with every tick of the clock, I realized how much I hate that guy. How he’s the reason I keep failing and if I want to succeed, I have to work harder to make him shut the fuck up.

I grab my phone off the nightstand to call Peyton and beg her to forgive me. The text on the screen from her confuses me. I didn’t hear it come in about ten minutes ago and it doesn’t make any sense.

P: rpbrtdhere helkkkk

Maybe the phone was in her pocket or something because if she meant to text me it would have been something along the lines of,
You’re such an arrogant asshole.
Or,
Grow the fuck up.

I call her three times but each time the call goes to voicemail. She’s either asleep or ignoring me. Pounding on my door pulls me from my bed and I answer the door in a groggy fog. Tori and Drew come through the door, reminding me that I forgot she’s taking Javier and Drew to a birthday party for a classmate today.

“Where’s Javier?” she asks, looking around, expecting him to be ready as he should be at ten o’clock in the morning. “You forgot?”

“Yeah, sorry. Rough night.” I go wake Javier up and the look on his face after he stretches alarms me. Peyton clearly isn’t the only one pissed at me and I wonder how much he heard last night.

“You heard us fighting?”

His chin dips and he looks up at me. It’s the eyes that tell me he’s not an idiot and I’ve insulted his adolescent intelligence. “I heard her yelling and I heard her leave and if she’s not back when I get home, we’re fightin.’”

I laugh when he giggles. “Okay, little scrapper. No need for that. I called her three times already, but she isn’t answering.”

There’s that look again, only this time he clearly thinks I’m the idiot. “You have a car.”

“And you have a birthday party.” I laugh. “Aunt Tori’s waiting for you.”

While he gets dressed, I go back to the front room to find Tori with her hand on her hip and her lips pressed tight.

“Where’s Drew?” I ask because it’s safer than asking what’s wrong.

“I set him up in your office to color.” She taps her foot while I continue to ignore her. When it’s abundantly clear I’m not answering anything, she doesn’t speak, instead choosing to let out a noisy sigh.

When I don’t take the hint, she finally asks, “What’d you do?”

Her question isn’t exactly direct, so I’ll stick with evasive. “What makes you think I did anything?”

The same look Javier gave me moments ago appears on her face. At least now I know where he learned it.

“I went back to help you get Javier ready and I heard him.”

“What do you think I did?” I answer annoyed, hoping she’ll take a hint and drop it but she continues to look at me with expectations. I growl in frustration. “I acted like a dick and she told me to go to hell and left in the middle of the night.”

“And you can’t even blame me this time.”

What the . . . When did this become about her? “I never blamed you.”

“Didn’t you?”

It suddenly dawns on me that when Brady was talking about me not being the only one with regrets, he was referring mainly to Tori. It was Maria catching us together that sent her running. It pains me that Tori not only feels this way but that we never discussed it.

“No . . . I don’t.”

She hangs her head and turns away.

“You were sick. I get that. I spent so much time trying to figure out why I always ran to help you. And why to this day, I would drop anything to be there for you. I justified my behavior to Maria because she kept pushing. I could never quite explain how I felt to her. Because of our history, I assumed I still had feelings for you, which made things worse with Maria. But that wasn’t it.”

She turns back around and looks at me. “I was there for you then and I’m here now, because we’re family, Tor. That’s what family does.” Her soft smile assures me that she hears what I’m telling her. “So, no, I don’t blame you and I’m not going to be angry with myself anymore and I won’t let you be angry either. In the end, Eduardo wanted Maria and he was going to get to her somehow. Am I angry that if I handled things differently, she’d still be here? Yes, but I don’t blame you. I love you because you’re my family. You always have been.”

The tightness of our hug shows me how much we needed to have this conversation. When I release her, she cups my cheek. “There’s no guarantee that if you did anything different, Maria would still be here.”

I can’t smile or nod because she’s wrong. If I’d given up my quest for revenge, and stayed with the woman I was in love with, Maria would still be here and Javier would still have his mother. Tori’s hand lowers, but her gaze stays with me. “Peyton’s your family now, too.”

That’s something I can smile about. Now let’s hope I can fix the mess I made last night, because I can’t imagine my life without Peyton in it.

Once I shuffle the three of them out the door, I try to call Peyton again, but again, she doesn’t answer. I stare at her earlier text. It doesn’t make any sense until I break it up and realize, if I don’t hurry, I might lose another woman I love.

P: rpbrtdhere helkkkk

rpbrtd—Robert Dellisens’ . . . here . . . helkkkk—help

I
don’t remember leaving my apartment or riding the elevator to the garage, but my head clears as I race toward Peyton’s house in nothing but boxer’s and a T-shirt. Mike texts that he and JT are five minutes out. I have a vague recollection of texting them before I left. Because her place is empty, I never bothered to set the alarm the other night. I’m not even sure we locked the door. What was there to steal? “Fuck!” I scream until my throat closes up.