Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (3 page)

Shame overcame me. I closed Harley’s page and then slammed my laptop shut. No Bach. I’d have to deal with it. Even if the idea made my heart ache. “I just finished actually. How’s work?”

“Hectic. I’m probably going to pull double shifts. I’ll be asleep when you get home from school tomorrow. There’s food in the fridge and I left money for dinner by the house phone. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” I was used to this. Gulfs would be lost without her. That bar was this part of Crystal Gulf’s watering hole. It ran smoother when she was there. “Wake me up when you leave for work?”

“Will do. If you need anything, just call. Sweet dreams, Hill.”

“Bye, Mom.”

She had a good nose. I’d only even been thinking about Bach, and she’d called as I was having a weak moment. I stood and began taking my clothes off, exchanging them for my pajamas, hoping that doing what I was supposed to do would erase the part of me who wanted to break the rules.

I understood rules. They existed for a reason. They protected us from the things that disobeyed them. For the most part, I willingly followed them, for my own sake and for my mother’s comfort. I didn’t drink, even though some of my friends snuck into parties and guzzled down beer. I didn’t do drugs, even though they were thick in the air in Crystal Gulf. This city was split into two sections, the college party half, and the low-income half, who happened to resort to rule breaking on a daily basis. Crystal Gulf was on the Gulf Coast, a short drive from Galveston. The college kids took over the beach, and the other half took over the dusty roads. I straddled the tenuous line without falling completely onto either side. I attended Crystal Gulf University and lived across the railroad tracks. Piper and I should’ve been like everyone else, but our parents kept us from it.

Because we followed the rules.

Piper was one friend I cherished above all others. I had a hard time being alone in our apartment with my mother working so many hours, so I always found comfort in my friendships. My mind had a tendency to latch onto things when it wasn’t occupied. Like hollow feelings and missing fathers. Piper lived in the complex. She understood what it was like growing up under our parent’s thumb. She had her circle of friends, and I had mine, but we made sure to make time for each other.

So I welcomed rules.

But Bach was one rule where I feared my ability to uphold my promise. I’d spent too much of my life wanting my father and now that I had this part of him my heart knew it.

It wanted it.

I wanted to finally be whole.

Chapter Two

Dylan

There was a space between nothing and boredom.

I didn’t know it existed until I sat in this hospital bed and realized I couldn’t get out of it. It was a dull bottomless gray area that sometimes looked black. It hovered on the edge of my subconscious, occupying my time. I lived in it when I was by myself, sometimes not even leaving it when I wasn’t. I’d been floating within this blank space for who knew how long when the door to my room opened and one of the staff wheeled in my dinner. Having grown used to my moods, they shoved my food within reach and then made their hasty escape.

Once they were gone, I faded within the gray area once more, drifting within the lull between losing my sanity and maintaining what little I still had.

Today had been a bad day. They forced me to shower. I smelled human again, but I didn’t feel like one. I’d always been a capable person. Bach and I grew up much on our own and more times than not had to rely on ourselves to get what we needed. I made money any way I could, ran game on those who wanted to play, and drank what I could get my hands on; I did what I had to do to maintain my existence. Sure, my existence should’ve required far more than women and booze, but growing up with even less, those two things made what I had easier to swallow. But not being able to wash myself had once again forced me to face the truth.

I was not the same man anymore.

I wasn’t even the man I pretended to be for Harley.

I was the Dylan I’d been before I learned I would be a father. An unemotional man who found no comfort in human interaction unless it ended up in sex, and since that was out of the question now, I had no desire to talk to anyone. It was just me, what I’d lost, and would never have.

I wanted out.

My left leg twitched, aching to get up and run away. Instead, I sat here, rotting, waiting for something even though I had this nagging feeling there was nothing waiting for me. I didn’t know how long I lay there until the door opened again. The clock on the wall said it was now eight at night. The last time I checked it was six in the morning, but that could’ve been yesterday or last week. I had no way of knowing.

I glanced over to find Bach entering my hospital room. His hands were full, and he wore a large dickhead smile. He even looked different. The Bach I knew before I left for war had been lost. I will admit that. I saw it then. It was hard to ignore. He’d been going down a path I feared I was on, one with no positive end. Drugs and alcohol had been his only friend. Deep down I felt guilty for leaving him like that, but there was nothing I could do about it now. This Bach looked alive. His eyes were clear, and his smile was easy. He even had a tan and he was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and tie. His hair was combed back, and his familiar light green eyes couldn’t quite shake who’d he been. There was a spark of darkness in his eyes that would probably never fully leave him.

I knew, because it was in my eyes too.

“You look like shit, dude.” Bach set the bags in his hands on the nearby chair and then looked around my room. His smile fell. He took in the uneaten food, the nothing, the gray space hovering around me. He grabbed the top of the most recent tray and opened it, finding it untouched. “You haven’t been eating?” he demanded, slamming the tray down hard. He turned his glare on me.

I met his eyes briefly, only for a second. Any longer and I would burst from the anger burning inside of me. I couldn’t believe my best damn friend had stolen my girl. My light, the only good woman I’d ever met. I’d betrayed Bach, but that was no surprise. I was a dickhead. That’s what dickheads did. We betrayed those around us because it was easier than being betrayed ourselves. But Bach hadn’t even liked Harley. He promised to watch out for her. Not fall in love with her.

He sighed and began digging around in the bags he brought. “I picked up some grub. Thought I’d give you a break from the hospital food, but it looks like that was pointless since you’re not eating.” Paper crinkled, and then the overpowering smell of cheese and beef filled the room. He shoved a cheeseburger under my nose, waving it around enticingly. “Eat this.”

My hand shot out, and I slapped the burger away, sending it across the room. It rolled; the buns went flying, and the cheese slid on the floor. I didn’t want his fucking food. I didn’t want anything from him but my girl back.

“No problem. I figured you’d do that. So I bought five more.” More crinkled paper. More beef and cheese under my nose. “You look like one of those skinny gothic kids we used to pick on in high school. You weren’t exactly cool to begin with, but you could try shooting for half of me. Eat, Dylan.”

This time, the burger splattered against the wall. Ketchup slid down the tan paint, leaving a blood trail.

“Not hungry,” Bach surmised. He took a seat and put his feet up on my hospital bed. “That’s cool. Harley’s got a late class and then she’s going out with a friend. I’m free all night.”

Hearing her name on his lips was like a punch to the ribs. I wanted to double over and puke. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to get it out of me. Throw Harley in my face to get a reaction. I wasn’t exactly a theoretical physicist, but I wasn’t stupid either. I wasn’t falling for his shit.

“How are things, you ask? Well, they’re good, Dylan. For the first time in my life, I can say that and mean it. What am I up to? Harley’s brother-in-law got me a job at his car dealership in Houston. I’m bullshitting my way through Mercedes and Audis. Who knew my irresistible charm would pay out this much?”

My fists clenched. Within my rage, I did have to admit that was an interesting change for Bach. Having made his money under the table for most of his life like me, it was different for him to have a job the IRS would approve of. Harley was already changing him, making him better. That’s what she did. She took the bad things around her and made them good.
Damn, I missed that woman.
My chest burned, and I made the mistake of making a small sound.

How could Bach do this to me?

How could Harley do this to me?

“How’s Harley? Is that the question I hear?”

Yes
, I admitted to myself.
How’s Harley?
On the outside I was blank. Empty. On the inside, I was burning.

“She’s good, bro. She’s better than good. I do my best to make sure she is. She’s the only reason I get up. The only reason I breathe. The only reason I am who I am. Am I still a bastard who doesn’t deserve her?”

Yes!

“Yes, but she’s too damn good to see that. But I intend to do everything in my power to make her happy. What she wants she gets. I love her, Dylan. This isn’t a game. This is the realest thing in my life.”

Bullshit
.

“We didn’t do this to hurt you. We did this because it’s what we both wanted. It happened. She saved me. Do you have any idea how shitty it makes me feel knowing you’d rather me burn alive than for Harley to save me?” His voice broke.

I closed my eyes. Bach and I were not on a good page. To be honest, I didn’t even want to bother anymore. We could part ways. He could live his life with Harley, and I could have my gray area. We didn’t have to speak anymore. We were done. So his heartbreak went in one ear and out the other. I was the side-effect of his happiness. His joy brought me this. Every time he smiled it further pushed me away. There was no way around this. We were done.

I would never forgive him for stealing my one chance at happiness.

“Look, Dylan. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I tried to stay away from her, bro, but she was so …
good
. So everything I wasn’t. I craved her, I needed her. And now I have her. I’m not going to be sorry for that. Nothing could ever make me regret Harley.”

On some level, I respected his loyalty. If you’re going to love Harley, then that’s the way to do it. Hard. If I had done that, she’d still be with me. But Bach didn’t understand. I lied to have later. I didn’t do it to be a dickhead. I just wanted what he’s hoping for. A future that didn’t hurt like right now.

He sighed once more when I didn’t respond. “We need to discuss what’s going to happen when you get out of here. Harley’s getting an internship at the juvenile center in Houston. It would make more sense for her to transfer universities. I’m working in Houston. Her family’s there. And you’re going back to Crystal Gulf, by yourself. Harley and I can drive down every day after work and school, but—”

Now I looked at him. Rage rippled through me. “You think I want your help? You think I’d ever want Harley to help me? Go to Houston, Bach. Move out of the beach house. I don’t need you or your cheating, conniving girlfriend. You both deserve each other. I’ll be fine on my own. It’s always been that way. It’ll always be that way.”

He held my gaze bravely. Bach wasn’t afraid of much. He’d never been afraid of me either.

“Harley didn’t cheat on you. You lied to her about Aubrey and being in the army. You lied, Dylan. She didn’t want that. Don’t hold that against her.” He pointed at me, his own eyes blazing. “You did this to yourself. We both know that’s what’s so hard. You shit all over your own life, and now you have to live with it.”

My fist shot out so fast I wasn’t even aware I’d made the move. But Bach and I grew up together. We fought together. I rarely saw him get knocked out. He moved out of the way just in time and stared at me, bored, unaffected, calm and cool like he always was.

“Don’t sit there and pretend you know what I’m going through, you son of bitch.” I pulled at my hair, ripping at my scalp, wanting to hurt something, someone, myself. “Why Harley, Bach? Why my only chance at good? Why?” I screamed, losing my cool once and for all.

“Because,” he said simply. “I wanted her good too. I won’t feel bad for that.”

I sagged down onto my bed and stared at the ketchup trail sliding down the wall. “Go home.”

“What are you going to do by yourself? I have no problem staying home and helping you. I’ll commute to Houston every day if that’s what you want me to do. But I’m not going to stay because that’s what I want. There’s no point if you’re going to act like this. If you want me there, tell me.”

“I don’t.” From the corner of my eye, I saw his head turn away. “In fact, why don’t we get this out of the way now?”

“What?” he asked, still looking away, his tone low, as if he knew what was coming.

“We had a long friendship. You were there for me, and I was there for you. It was tough growing up. I probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.” My eyes burned, but I forced myself to get this out. “But we’re not kids anymore, and I don’t need you. I can’t forgive you. I won’t. So why don’t we stop this bullshit now and cut ties. You live your perfect life with Harley, and I’ll do what we used to do. Survive the only way I know how.”

“No,” he murmured, still not looking at me.

I knew why. Tears had been in my eyes since he mentioned Harley’s name. But when I started talking about losing Bach they’d began to stream down my face. Losing him meant I’d be completely and utterly on my own. We’d been through hell and back. I’d been there when his old man used to beat the snot out of him, and he’d been there for me when mine used to do the same. We saw each other’s pain. Hell, we shared the same bed until we were teenagers. But when Bach stole my good, he stole my future. That was something I couldn’t forgive.

“It’s going to happen anyway. You’re already leaving. You’re in Houston. The only reason you haven’t sold the beach house is because I won’t have a place to go. Tell me the truth. You and Harley are already living in Houston, aren’t you?”