Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (14 page)

“Not hungry,” I place the plate on the
stove.

“Clint,” His voice sternly pops up.

“I need a shower.”

“Clint--”

“I
need
a shower, sir,” My eyes
directly meet his. I just can't fucking do this right now. I'm
still fucking new at this dealing with emotions thing. And right
now the world feels like it's caving in on me. Crushing the life
force out of me. Just being in the same room with the two people I
care about the most and not belonging is something I can't fucking
deal with. Not right now.

“Alright,” he picks up his fork like he gets
it. I doubt that he does.

Quickly, I rush up the stairs and lock myself
in the bathroom. Cutting on the hot water, I strip out of my
clothes, and slide in, burying my face under the scolding hot
water. The heat is so intense is makes my skin sting. The peace
makes me shut my eyes briefly released.

“Slugger!!” my mom's voice calls from the
porch. “Dinner!”

One more hit. I just need to make one more
hit. I'll do better than that kid David Jenkins at practice! I
will! I just have too! I'm always the best on the team. Mom needs
me to be the best.

“Come on, Slugger,” she calls to me
again.

“One sec!”

“Now, young man!”

Oh no. She young manned me. The only thing
worse would have been is she called me by first name. Dropping the
bat I rush into the kitchen just past her and to the sink to wash
my hands. She locks the door behind me and impatiently taps her
foot as I try to get some of the dirt off my hands.

I glance over at her. “What?”

“Don't you what me,” she says as I come to
the bar table, plopping in the seat beside her.

She would always rather eat next to me. She
likes to be able to put her arm around my shoulder and randomly
squeeze it. I think she does that when she misses dad. She says I
look like him. I think I look like me.

“What's going on with you? I never have to
call you to come to dinner that many times.”

I shrug. I stick a fork full of spaghetti in
my mouth.

She doesn't accept this answer,
“Slugger...talk to me. What's on your mind? Do you miss your
dad?”

“No.” Her eyes lower down at me. I quickly
say, “I mean no more than normal.”

“Then what is it?”

I can't tell her how David was mean to me at
school. Lying and telling everyone he was better at baseball than
me. I can't tell her that he got everyone to believe that I made up
how great I was. I just can't tell her that. I'm supposed to be
strong. And cool.

“Slugger, how can I help if I don't know
what's wrong?”

“Maybe you can't help, mom,” I mumble before
realizing it.

“I can always help.” she picks up her wine
glass. “Even if I can't physically help I can probably give you
advice. So why don't you try to tell me what's wrong and let me
decide if I can't indeed help.” When I don't say anything she
sighs, “Look, the only way you get through hard times you're having
is by talking them out. Working through them. You can't hide from
your problems Slugger...”

Her voice feels like its reverberating off
the tile in my shower. Fuck. She's right. I can't hide from my
problems. Not by doing sit ups, pushups, and not by punching a bag.
Or even washing off in the shower. I'm gonna have to admit to Haven
that I have a problem with the French Fruit Cake. The question is
how do I do it without coming off like a jealous raging
asshole.

Outside of the shower, I dry off and slip a
towel around my waist. I head to my bedroom and flop on the bed the
cool air from the air conditioner striking me. To my surprise Haven
rounds the corner and shuts the door, a very firm, very unhappy
look on her face. Great. Another first. This look.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she snaps
loudly. I don't think I've ever heard her curse. I'm not sure I
like it.

With a deep breathe, I sigh, “Could you
please not cuss at me?”

Surprised by my calmness, she raises her
eyebrows. Maybe she's in disbelief she cussed at me. Maybe she
wasn't expecting too. “Sorry.” She pauses. “I just...I don't know
what to say to get you to talk to me. You've never had trouble
before.”

“Haven, I've always had trouble.” my eyes
finally lift to hers. “I'm not good at talking. You just...you have
a way of bringing it out of me. The same way my mom did.” At the
words her body relaxes slightly. “So talk to me, Clint. I can't
stand you so cold.”

With a long exhale I respond, “I know. And
I'm sorry being so cold, angel. I just...it's hard to sort out
everything in my head. Plus I don't want to say the wrong thing and
have you even more pissed off.”

“I would rather you say the wrong thing and
talk to me then say nothing at all.”

Fine. Have it her way. “I don't like your
friend, Michele.”

She looks actually surprised. “Why not?”

“I don't trust the guy. I don't like the
things he says. I don't like the way he looks at you. Hell I hate
the way the guy breathes.” The comment causes her to snicker. “But
he's your friend. And I would never forbid you to be friends with
anyone. You make your own choices. It's your life. I get that. I
respect that. But I also feel...like he wants you. And when I'm not
around...”

“You think I'm cheating on you?”

“Of course not. I would never say that. I
would never even think that.”

“Then what?”

“I feel replaced.” Just hearing the words out
loud make me feel weak as fuck. When the hell have I ever been
so...vulnerable? Fuck. I hate this shit.

Haven's face softens and she approaches me
slowly. She suddenly straddles herself in my lap, puts her arms
around my neck, and smiles lightly. “Clint...no one in the world
could ever replace you.” My face threatens to smile. “You have no
reason to feel threatened by my friendship with Michele. That's all
he is. A friend. That's all he'll ever be.”

And with that her supple lips fall onto mine.
An immediate hum leaves my body. I moan behind her lips. Just the
feeling of her body against mine forces peace throughout it. Floods
it with tranquility for the ages. My arms fold around her waist
cradling her to me, her own body melting against mine. Flesh
heating my own. I want this girl. I never wanna share her. And
while I believe she believes every word that she just said, I can't
help but hear the tiny voice in the back of my head I'm still
trying to drown out.
You. Can't. Save. Her.
Maybe it wasn't
just Old Man Banks I was gonna need to rescue her from.

“You're fucking with me, right?” Glove
chuckles laying his weapon down to disassemble it. I want to keep
shooting. Keep aiming. Keep myself in the situation with variables
I can control. With outcomes I decide. What gun? Where the bullet
lands. The speed. The precision.

Warily I respond, “Do I sound like I'm
fucking with you?”

“But he's a dude.” Glove's comment causes my
eyes to roll.

“I'm aware.”

“And he's named Michele?” Glove's continued
confusion is followed by him placing his gun back in his case.
“Like his parents did it on purpose?”

“I guess.”

“Are you sure they weren't aiming for a girl
and just liked the name too much to let it go?”

Lordy's chuckle causes me to look over at
him. “Why do you always encourage him?”

He laughs again, but Glove genuinely looks
baffled. “Are you sure he isn't a she who had a sex change?!”

“I see this conversation is over.” I head for
the exit with the two of them on my heels. “I'll meet you both at
Callum's.”

Once in the car alone for just a moment, I
let the roaring of my engine play as the soothing factor I need.
Sure. Last night hearing Haven say those things calmed me down for
a bit. Her offering me herself physically to help also cooled me.
At least at first. Being connected to her that way always does.
It's a special piece of her no one else shares. No one has ever
had. It has intertwined us without words. Yet. I couldn't kill the
voice in the back of my head accusing us of having sex to avoid
further discussing the problem at hand. Shit. I'm really beginning
to hate that voice in the back of my head. I wouldn't mind taking a
fist to his face a few times.

Pulling into a space, I climb out of my car
as Glove and Lordy pop out of his. The three of us end up sitting
outside on the patio, each with a beer. It'll be the only one I
have, but what the hell. I need one.

“And thank you, Katie,” Glove says after she
delivers it.

She giggles and pushes her short blonde hair
behind her ear. Her ears have a series of ear rings running up one
side of them. There's a series of star tattoos that start behind
her ear and seem to travel around down her neck towards the top of
her boobs. Pale skin. Long legs. Short jeans shorts. Tank top with
her bra strap showing. A mixed combination of things that could
interest Glove. Thank God. Maybe he'll forget all about Mandy.

“If there's anything else I can do for you,”
she runs her hands down into her butt jeans pockets. “Just let me
know.”

“I can think of a few,” he flirts back as
Lordy looks off past him at the T.V. screen that's on the inside
that he can see from his location. “Starting with your number.”

“Definitely.” she leans over as he pulls out
his phone.

Once he's got her information she makes
herself slip away, stopping at a table Glove swung by earlier to
catch up with some guy he says he used to know in high school.
Unbreakable or some shit.

Picking up his beer, Lordy sighs, “She was
cute.”

“Eh. She'll do for now.” his nonchalant way
with women has never annoyed me as much as it does lately.

“And you wonder why I won't help you with
Mandy.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means.” I turn bottle around in my grip.
“Mandy is one of my girlfriend's best friends. And she deserves to
be treated like more than just something to check off on you’re to
do list. Especially since if anything happened between the two of
you that would put us in an awkward position.”

Glove nods and takes a long swig of his beer.
I expect an argument. A cocky persuasion to come flowing out of his
mouth. Instead, nothing. No objection. No dispute. Not even a
remark he would've considered witty. He stays silent even once the
bottle is back on the table. Okay. What the hell? Is he fucking
changing on me too?

“So Michele is a dude,” Lordy clears his
throat taking my attention away from Glove. “Aside from his name,
what's the problem?”

The issues that are plaguing my life come
forcefully flowing back at me. “He wants my fucking
girlfriend.”

“Are you sure?” Lordy's question of my
judgment causes my fist to curl. I know he's not trying to piss me
off. It's just an immediate reaction. I have to get this shit in
check. These are my friend's for fucks sake.

“Positive.”

“He hit on her?” Glove rejoins the
conversation as Katie brings him another beer.

“Every chance he got yesterday.”

“In front of you?” Lordy's bewilderment is
followed by him ordering a thing of wings to munch on. I nod. “He
sounds dumber than Glove.”

“Hey,” Glove points his fresh cold beer at
him. “I wouldn't ever try to break up a happy home.” Lordy raises
his eyebrows at him. With that Glove smirks. “Well, again,
anyway.”

Shaking my head I steer the conversation back
on track. “Yeah in front of me. In an obvious fashion. Tell me, am
I out of my mind for worrying that this dick is trying to hook up
with my girlfriend when I'm not around?”

“Not at all.” The fact the answer is unison
makes it worse than had they just echoed one another.

“Look, I know a thing or two about guys like
that,” Lordy says t and focuses on me dead in the eye. “Nothing
good comes from them. They're sneaky sacks of shits. They've got a
game plan and an execution style that girl's don't usually see
coming. With all due respect...if you don't get rid of him, he'll
get rid of you.”

The words that sound like a threat force fury
to flare in my eyes. How the fuck could he say some shit like that
to me? How can even sit back and assume I'd lose my girlfriend, my
angel to another dude? To a dip shit like that? What the hell does
he know?

Sensing the change in me Lordy follows with,
“Grim, I'm not saying that you're not the better man. I'm not
saying Haven's gonna leave you--”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“I'm just saying, if you don't correct his
relationship with Haven, he's gonna start doing more than slightly
imposing on yours. Trust me on this.”

His brown eyes suddenly look a lot darker
than they were before. It hits me. Maybe this is what he's running
from with the girl in the photo. Maybe this is what happened to
him. What if this situation is what led to him losing the girl he
loved? I swallow. Hard. The possibility of ending up like Lordy has
me wishing I was willing to drink more than one beer.

I hate shopping. I really do. The worse is
gift shopping. Too many options. Too many wrong choices to make.
Too many possibilities for others to outdo your gift. One up you.
And right now, I can't afford to be out done. I have to get Haven
the perfect gift. One so that when the French dick gives her his,
she will know who really loves her. The fact I have to compete with
him makes my fist itch. Not now, Grim. You're in public. With your
father.

The only thing worse than shopping is
shopping at the mall. It's always busy. Filled with young couples
looking for a way to hook up away from their parents, old couples
looking for something to spice up their daily prune eating routine
and new parents looking for a way to expose their children to the
outside world in a controlled environment. Worse crowds. Worse
noise. Worse afternoon.