Thorn: Carter Kids #2 (30 page)

Sean chuckled. “You have no idea how many women at the salon ask me that question.” Settling down beside me, he clunked his glass against mine and sighed.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Sitting cross-legged on the couch, I plucked at a loose thread off the cushion on my lap and said, “to be this…
devastated
over a man I dated for two months in high-school?”

“Officially two months,” he corrected, pointing his finger in the air. “Unofficially a hell of a lot longer and deeper than that.”

“What if he can’t get past it?” I squeezed out. “I’ve been going over and over it, and if I were in his shoes, I don’t think I could.” Covering my face with my hands, I stifled a groan. “And just say that he
can
forgive me. What if it’s different now?” I whispered. “What if that fucked up, bloodlust chemistry between us fizzles out?”

“If you don’t try, you’re going to spend the rest of your life wondering and regretting,” he told me.

I knew he was right, but I was terrified.

I never wanted to feel the pain of having my heart broken by Noah Messina again, intentionally or not. I wasn’t sure I would survive that kind of aching twice in my lifetime.

“I’m nothing out of the ordinary, Sean,” I admitted. “And Noah? He lives in different world to us.
Supermodels
drop their knickers for him like they’re giving him his five fruits a day. There’s no way I can compete with that.”

“You don’t have to compete with anyone, Teagan. That’s what you don’t seem to get,” he said. “That man flew halfway across the world and landed on your doorstep.” Shaking his head, he sighed impatiently. “That doesn’t say end of the line to me.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No, Teagan, it doesn’t,” he shot back with an irritated tone. “It says the man is driven by desperation, devotion and
love
.” Slapping his hand down on my thigh, Sean squeezed and said, “he’s here. He’s hot and he’s fucking yours. So what are you going to do about it?”

I SPENT ALL DAY FRIDAY
curled up in a ball on my bed ignoring phone calls from Liam and avoiding contact with the outside world, basically too ashamed to lift my head off my tear soaked pillow. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch. I didn’t have the appetite. Noah’s voice remained in my mind; his face the fore point of my every waking thought all day long and I couldn’t stop tormenting myself with the ugly truth.

Noah had done serious time in prison.

Because of me.

He broke his fucking bail.

Because of me.

Max had pressed charges on him.

Because of me.

He was at the quarry that night.

Because of me.

He gave up his own freedom to keep me safe.

Kyle Carter had been right all along. I hated the way that man was
always
freaking right. It was so infuriating. I should have listened to him. I should have listened to my heart and not my stupid pride. Look where pride had gotten me. Seven years of bitterness and regrets.

“I wanted to prove a point. I wanted to see if I could still get you on your back with your legs spread open, and it turns out I can. You were an itch I needed to scratch Teagan. That’s all.”

Pride and stubbornness kept me from running back to him – from throwing myself at his feet and begging for forgiveness. The hurt in his eyes haunted me. I saw it in those brown depths. I saw the pain I had caused when I questioned him. I also saw the truth.

To be honest I couldn’t understand why he had given me the time of day, let alone taken all my crap when I had let him down in the worst possible way. I was emotionally drained and feeling sorry for myself, and no amount of chocolate and alcohol stemmed the pain.

By Saturday afternoon the depression had well and truly set in and so had the hunger. I made a pot noodle in the microwave and I ate it half raw, not bothering to cook it any longer. I didn’t deserve fully cooked meals anyway. When I finished my crunchy pot noodle I did something I hadn’t done in years.

Taking my guitar out of its case, I settled the strap on my shoulder and grabbed a pick. I hadn’t played since I was eighteen, I couldn’t bear to; but the moment my fingers touched the strings, I realized it was like riding a bike.

Allowing my fingers to glide over the strings, I closed my eyes and sang my own acoustic version of Johnny Cash’s
Ring of Fire
,
finger picking my way through the instrumentals
,
falling into the sweet melody.

Feeling every note right down in my core, meaning every lyric that spilled from my lips, I belted out the chorus at the top of my lungs, releasing with it all the unspoken words festering inside of me.

“…I fell into a burning ring of fire…”

My front door flew inwards and I fell off the couch, mid song, taking the hit to my body in my bid to protect my guitar. “Jesus Christ,” I hissed as I lay on the flat of my back gaping up at Sean who was standing in the doorway of my apartment. “How’d you get in?”

“It was unlocked, babe,” Sean announced cheerfully as he sauntered into my apartment with a bunch of beauty products in his arms. Dropping what he was carrying on the kitchen countertop, he made his way over to me. “Nice voice by the way,” he added, taking my guitar from me and setting it back in its case. “I didn’t know you played.”

Climbing to my feet, I rubbed my hip that was stinging from breaking my fall. “I used to play,” I muttered, confused. “I was sure I locked that door.” In fact I was certain. Hope and I had many arguments over the years because I was so, and I quote, ‘anal’ about keeping the apartment secured. In my defense, Hope had never been kidnapped out of her sleep by a tattooed muscle head, or chased down by the mob. I reckoned my habits were well justified, which was why I was so surprised at myself for leaving the door unlocked last night.

“Stop delaying,” Sean said, shoving me down the hallway and into the bathroom. “Get your ass in that shower,” he ordered, flicking it on. “I’ll find something for you to wear.”

“What…Hey – stop,” I hissed, slapping his hands away when he tried to forcibly remove my t-shirt. “What are you doing, you Perv?”

“Teagan,” Sean shot back, rolling his eyes. “Trust me when I say that you have
nothing
I want to see. No offense.”

“None taken,” I grumbled, slapping his hand away when he moved for my shirt again. Forcing Sean to turn around, I stripped quickly and climbed into the tub before pulling the curtain around me. “So tell me why you’ve barged into my apartment and manhandled me into the shower?”

“I’m staging an intervention,” I heard him call out, and then the sound of drawers clanging open and shut filled the air. “No way in hell am I allowing you to wallow in your own self-pity for another night.”

“Sean?” I asked nervously, when the sound of a hairdryer roared to life. “What are you doing out there?”

“
We
are going to Stephanie’s birthday bash with our friends,” he informed me. “And
you
are going to be the best dressed female there.”

“No, I’m not,” I groaned, leaning my head back, letting the water wash over me. “I can’t –”

“You’re coming out with me, Teagan,” Sean said in a warning tone. “If I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.” Seconds later, a razor was thrust around the shower curtain and into my hand. “Shave,” he ordered. “Everything.”

LESS THAN TWO HOURS LATER,
I was hairless and had been poked and prodded in more places than I cared to remember. Thanks to my flamboyant friend, I was feeling tipsy from our pre-pub drinks and coated in a fresh layer of fake tan and dolled up more than I’d ever been in my life. Sean had insisted on curling my hair so that it was flowing loosely down my back, with little sprigs of glitter and tiny clear colored jewels in it. He had completed my look with smoky eyes and clear glossy lips.

“Well, you are a miracle worker,” I conceded as I admired myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. Dressed in a short white dress with sky-high beige wedges and a matching beige blazer, I had to admit Sean had mad skills in the style department. “Jesus,” I breathed in amazement, cupping my tiny breasts that looked amazing with the bold plunging neckline of the dress. “I actually look like I have more than fried eggs.”

Sean threw his head back and laughed. “Your breasts aren’t small,” he assured me as he clamped his hands down on my shoulders and led me back into the kitchen. “They’re perky,” he offered, smothering his laugh with his glass of vodka and coke. “Men like perky.”

“They do?” I cocked one finely shaped brow and grabbed my glass off the counter before taking a sip. “Name one man who’d take small and perky over big and bouncy?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Sean teased. “Perhaps a particularly fine-assed fighter kind of man?”

“Don’t,” I whispered, cringing at the thought. Dropping my head, I felt what small semblance of excitement I had built up disintegrate. “I fucked everything up,” I whispered, feeling more disappointed in myself than I had felt before. “He hates me.”

“Babe, I am no where near close to being drunk enough for round two of
that
conversation,” Sean announced, draining the last drop of his vodka and coke and setting the empty glass down. “So just put him on the back burner for tonight,” he added before grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on and heading for the door. “Tomorrow you can go right back to moping around in your pajamas.”

As I trailed after Sean, a long, thinly shaped box on top of the counter caught my eye. “Hang on,” I called out, making a beeline for the box. “What’s this?” I hadn’t noticed the box being there earlier, but then again, Sean had dumped so much on the counter it made it sort of impossible.

“Oh yeah, I found that outside your door when I got here,” Sean replied, walking back to me. “I forgot to mention it.” Shrugging, he added, “Well hurry up and open it.”

Lifting the lid of the box, my eyes widened when I saw the lone red rose inside, with a single thorn on its stem. Resting beside it was a small white card.

“It’s from Noah,” I whispered, biting down on my lip, cheeks burning. Only Noah would send me a rose that resembled the tattoo he bore on his side. Excitement fluttered inside of me as I picked up the card and read the inscription.

I’m coming.