SIN FOR YOU: ROCKTOWN INK, BOOK TWO Read online

  “Nah, we can get together with Cal tomorrow and fight about it then.” He winked, trying and failing to act like he was over it, that he was fine. “Cassy’s making my favorite tonight. Definitely not telling him at the ranch and risk ruining my last taste of Cassy’s cooking for a while.”

  If he needed to let it go, for now anyway, I could do that.

  He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You should come. Quinn will probably be there. She’s been there a lot lately.”

  I shifted, wanting to ask a million questions and holding myself back—barely. “Has she?”

  Dane’s head tilted to the side, gaze intense. “Someone broke her heart, apparently. She’s even stayed over at the guesthouse a couple of nights this week, sleeping in that room you stayed in the night of the party. Doesn’t want to be on her own.”

  I locked my knees so I didn’t fall on my ass. “Broke her heart?”

  “I’ve heard her crying through the wall,” Dane said.

  “Crying?” I choked.

  My girl had been crying, and I’d caused it? I thought I was dead inside before. Obviously not, because how could you bleed out if you were already a corpse? I’d hurt her when that was what I’d been trying to avoid.

  Oh God.

  Oh fuck.

  I’d hurt her.

  “Just thought you should know that,” Dane said and opened the door. He looked back at me. “There’s nothing you could have done to stop me from doing what I did. Not any of it.” He swallowed, looking pained. “You know that, right?”

  I stood motionless.

  “Nothing that’s happened to me, to us, to our family, could have been prevented, not by you, not by any of us. And my fuckups, they’re my own. I need you to know that.” Then he walked out.

  And I was left stunned for the second time that night.

  * * *

  Quinn

  My house was quiet, too quiet.

  The drippy faucets Mase had fixed downstairs weren’t dripping anymore, but one of the upstairs faucets had started, and that’s all I could hear.

  Usually after work, in the last few months after my shifts at the bar, I looked forward to coming home to a silent house. But those quiet moments weren’t as enjoyable anymore.

  Not since spending time with Bull.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, refusing to look at my phone and read the text I’d gotten from Bevan this morning again, and finished washing my face. Then I brushed my teeth, put on my pj’s, a big soft sweater, and headed back downstairs. I wasn’t tired, so might as well watch a movie.

  Apparently, Bevan had found true love with Tonya, and they’d gotten married in Costa Rica. Which was funny, in a stick-a-fork-in-your-eye-and-twist-it kind of way, since that was where I’d wanted to honeymoon and Bevan had said no. Anyway, he’d wanted to tell me the happy news himself to soften the blow.

  Then he’d proceeded to list all the reasons why we wouldn’t have worked anyway.

  I wasn’t giving enough.

  I didn’t understand him.

  I was too clingy.

  I didn’t know how to read him in bed.

  Whatever the hell that last one meant.

  My fault, all of it. He was forced to cheat because I was a sucky fiancée? Did he think that would make me feel better? No. He was trying to appease his guilt, or maybe it was payback for ruining his suits and throwing out his car keys.

  I didn’t bother replying and blocked his number.

  Thanks for that, Bevan, you weasel dick, jerk-faced prick.

  Thanks so much for sharing.

  I’d tried to fight it, but somehow his words had dug in throughout the day, had dug deep. Had gotten in my head. Had hurt.

  I sighed. I mean, I was over him. I was. The only feeling I had where he was concerned was regret that I’d given my heart to another asshole unworthy of my love and affection.

  I was so done with men. Done.

  I drew in an unsteady breath, fighting the tears I’d been holding since Bull ended it, and I slumped on the couch. God, that had hurt a million times more than finding Bevan cheating. It didn’t even come close to the devastation of losing Bull.

  I didn’t know what to do with that, was too afraid to unpack those emotions and think about what that might mean.

  To avoid having to think about it, I’d been staying at Cassy’s in her guesthouse the odd night when the quiet got too much. How pathetic was that?

  Even more tragic, and something else I didn’t want to look too closely at, I was sleeping in the bed Bull had slept in when we were at the ranch for Cassy’s birthday, hugging the pillow he’d used like that would somehow make me feel closer to him.

  And on more than one night there, I’d let it all get in, had let the pain settle deep and the tears had flowed.

  Cassy had invited me over for dinner again tonight, but after my shift I’d decided I needed to stop using her and that room in the guesthouse as a crutch. I also didn’t feel much like company after Bevan’s little bombshell.

  I’d even told Cassy that I’d been seeing someone and we’d broken up, without mentioning any names, because there was no hiding that I was hurting, and it just made it easier.

  The truth was, I missed Bull—down to my bones.

  Yes, I saw him at work. The last week he’d been there for every one of my shifts. But it wasn’t the same. In fact, it was exhausting pretending that I was fine, that I wasn’t broken up over him. It took all my energy. And again, something I didn’t want to think about.

  Which was why I’d handed in my notice today. I couldn’t be here, be around Bull anymore.

  He’d hurt me. God, he’d crushed me, which meant ending it was exactly what needed to happen. I’d allowed my emotions to get involved, and that was on me.

  Bull had his own issues and they caused him to be protective. He needed to be needed, I knew this. That’s all it was; that’s all it could be. His feelings didn’t go deeper than that. It was only a few weeks ago that he had no interest in me, that he’d pulled away from me when I tried to kiss him. Was I supposed to believe that he’d suddenly fallen for me?

  No, I’d done this to myself. You would think I’d have learned my lesson by now.

  I was curled up, an hour into The Notebook, tears streaming down my face, tears that really had nothing to do with the movie—and you guessed it, something else I wasn’t going to analyze too deeply either—when someone banged on the door. I jumped, knocking my popcorn onto the floor.

  Scrambling off the couch, heart racing, I rushed to the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me.”

  My hand flew to the door handle before my brain joined the party, but I stopped myself from yanking it open. “What are you doing here, Bull?”

  “Can we…can we talk?”

  I pressed my forehead against the door. “Is it a work thing?”

  “No.”

  My heart started banging around in my chest. “Bull—”

  “Please, sweets, will you let me in?”

  I was powerless against that voice, that deep and rough yet soft voice. I unlocked the door and opened it.

  He stood there, hand resting on the doorframe, head dipped. As soon as the door opened, his thickly lashed brown eyes lifted from his boots, and he looked down at me. Melted chocolate—gentle and soft.

  Alarm bells started going off in my head, but it was too late to slam the door shut because he was already walking in and I was backing up into the hall.

  “I think maybe we should talk tomorrow, when I’m at work.” With other people around to stop me from making another stupid mistake.

  He shut the door and his gaze moved over me, a frown on his face. “Why are you backing away from me?”

  “I’m not.” I was.

  He stopped and so did I. He shoved his fingers through his hair. “So you want to talk in the hall?”

  No, I didn’t want to talk at all. “Why not?”

  He frowned again harder. “Fuck, baby, have
you been crying?”

  He sounded as horrified as I felt being caught out looking all puffy and red-faced after ugly crying for the last thirty minutes.

  Baby.

  I crossed my arms. Hearing him say baby made my knees go weak. “I’m watching The Notebook.”

  That didn’t seem to take away the concern. He looked like he was seconds away from tugging me into his arms. No way could I let that happen. I quickly wiped my eyes and retreated to the kitchen to get a drink of water I didn’t need. Really, I planned on using the kitchen island as a barrier.

  He followed me, still watching me closely. I fussed around at the kitchen sink, straightening the salt and pepper shakers on the island, folding and unfolding the dish towel, anything but look at him.

  “Quinn?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Sweets, look at me.”

  Dammit. I let my eyes flick up to his for a moment, afraid he’d see just how hurt—God, conflicted—I was. I never wanted him to see that.

  “You handed in your notice.”

  That’s why he was here? “Yes. It’s time to go home.”

  Bull’s Adam’s apple bulged like he’d swallowed thickly. “Home? Your home’s here.”

  “It’s time I went back to Portland.”

  “You sure about that?”

  God, why was he doing this? He knew the way it had to be. “Yes.”

  He took a step to the side, like he was about to round the island and come after me, so I did the same.

  He cursed under his breath and stopped. “I talked to Dane today,” he said, changing the subject suddenly.

  “Did you?”

  “He said you’ve been staying out at the ranch a lot.”

  I shrugged.

  “He said you told Cassy you were nursing a…a broken heart,” he said gently.

  Humiliation washed through me, instantly darkening my face. I had. I’d said that. I hadn’t meant it, though—not really, right? That wasn’t what I was feeling. It couldn’t be. My belly squirmed. “You know what happened with Bevan,” I lied.

  “It has nothing to do with that fucker,” he said, calling my bluff.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “The truth.”

  I felt cornered. “I don’t owe you that, Bull. My feelings are my own.”

  He rested his hands on the island, leaning forward a little. “Not if they involve me.”

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t. “What I do or how I feel has nothing to do with you.”

  “Except that it has everything to do with me.”

  I planted my hands on the island as well. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, Logan. You said it was over between us, and now you’re here to what? Force me to confess my feelings for you? I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know—”

  “I made a mistake,” he said, his words cutting me off like the crack of a bullwhip. “I thought I was doing the right thing…for you, but I…I made a mistake.”

  I started shaking my head as soon as I heard the M word. “It wasn’t, you didn’t…it was the right thing to do.”

  “I hurt you, Quinn. I feel sick to my stomach that I hurt you. That is the last thing I wanted.”

  His words said it all, really. Bull was a nurturer. A protector. He didn’t feel anything for me beyond that. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t. He thought he hurt me, that was all and that wasn’t something he could tolerate. But to the point he’d start sleeping with you again just to protect your feelings?

  I ignored the voice of logic trying to take over.

  No, this wasn’t about me; this was about his own issues, with his mother, with his gran and Cal and Dane.

  Maybe it was as simple as Logan looking for a connection, someone to take care of when he felt like he’d failed everyone else in his life.

  But I couldn’t be his Band-Aid, his emotional fix, until he woke up one day and realized he was with me for the wrong reasons.

  He’d leave.

  Like Bevan, like the rest.

  “That’s not a good enough reason to carry on seeing each other,” I said, doing my best to keep all traces of emotion out of my voice, and failing. “This was supposed to be casual, sex only. It was supposed to be fun. I’m not having fun anymore, Logan.”

  “Hang on a minute—”

  “No. The rule was: when one of us ended it, the other didn’t make a fuss; we parted ways.” I rounded the kitchen island and headed for the front door.

  “Dammit, stop.”

  The heavy thud of Bull’s boots followed me. I opened the door as soon as I reached it and walked out onto the porch into the freezing wind and sleet in only my pajamas. But I needed Bull out of my house before I caved.

  He followed me out, cursing and yanking off his jacket, and threw it over my shoulders before I realized what he was doing.

  “Bull…”

  He grabbed the front, pulling it closed around me, and tugged me forward so I was pressed up against him, trapped, surrounded by his heat, his scent.

  “I don’t give a fuck about the rules. I want you. I want to be with you.”

  Why was he making this so hard? He didn’t, not really. “You were happy enough to walk away a week ago. You had no trouble staying away. Why are you really here, Logan?” I said, pain like a blade to the sternum striking over and over again.

  He searched my eyes. “Because I missed you, because I want to be with you, because I—”

  “You heard I was upset.” I shoved his hands away and tugged off his jacket to hand it to him. The cold hit me immediately, biting right through me. “You’re charging in to save the day again. It’s what you do. You don’t want me. You want to save me, that’s all.” I was starting to sound a little hysterical, but I had no control over it. I felt like I was being pulled in a million different directions.

  “Bullshit,” he said, looking frustrated as hell. “You’re wrong. So damn wrong.”

  “I’m not,” I said, shaking, my voice pitched high. “It’d only be a matter of time before you’d get bored, before you ran off to Costa Rica with your own Tonya.”

  “What the fuck?” He frowned. “Who’s Tonya?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, throwing up my hands. I was shaking and hoping like hell he didn’t see it. “In the end, none of it does. What matters is what I want, and I don’t want…this,” I said, lying because I wanted Bull, but having him, all of him, then losing him again was more than I thought I could survive. I couldn’t risk it. Not again. “And if you took a moment, if you thought about it, where this, these feelings, your…declaration, was really coming from? You wouldn’t want this. You wouldn’t want me either.”

  I rushed back inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

  I stood there, fighting more tears as he knocked, calling my name, asking me to let him back in.

  But eventually, he gave up and left.

  Like I knew he would.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Quinn

  My phone was ringing when I climbed into my car.

  I quickly checked who it was and smiled as I answered. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Quinnie, how’re things?” His voice was cautious, hesitant.

  “You’ve been talking to Mase, haven’t you?”

  My dad sighed. “Okay, you got me. He did call and he said a few things that got me thinking.”

  I fiddled with my jacket zipper. “What kind of things?”

  “He thought you might be struggling a bit more than you let on after this whole…after what that asshole Bevan…” He cleared his throat. “After what happened.”

  “I’m fine,” I said automatically. I think I’d been doing that since my mom died. Trying to lessen my dad’s worry, especially over me. I guess I did it without even thinking.

  “You’re not, though, are you?” he said gently.

  “I don’t care about Bevan, not anymore. I don’t. My heart’s not broken over him.” How co
uld it when I thought…God, I thought it might belong to Logan. “I’m going back to Portland in two weeks. It’s time to stop hiding and go back to my life.”

  “I thought you might stay in Rocktown,” he said in that same gentle voice. “I don’t think you’re hiding. I think you went home because it’s what you needed. You’ve been there for four months, pumpkin.” He cleared his throat again. “Running from someone or something that’s hard or painful is the easy part—believe me, I know—but it doesn’t make it better, it doesn’t stop how we feel inside.”

  Oh God. “Dad—”

  “You deserve the best, you know that, right? Bevan never deserved you,” he said, the same words Bull had said to me. “Any man who wants to be with you, he needs to work to prove it. Any man worth anything will do what it takes to prove his worth, Quinnie. Don’t settle for anything less.”

  Is that what I’d been doing? Settling for less? I thought maybe I had been.

  Until Bull.

  I sniffed. “I won’t.”

  “Good girl.” He cleared his throat, like he was choked up as well. “I know I distanced myself from you at times as you got older,” he rasped. “You were just so like your mother, and every year even more so. Your eyes, your voice…your laugh, they were all reminders of her and, yeah, it hurt. That wasn’t fair to you. I think that maybe I made you feel like you weren’t perfect as you were, when you were…God, still are. I love you, pumpkin, and I’m sorry, so damn sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I love you, too.” It was all I could manage.

  When we finally ended the call, I sat there in my car for the longest time, his words on repeat in my head. I never knew how much I needed to hear that until he said what he did, because that’s exactly how I’d felt for a lot of years. That I wasn’t enough.

  It wasn’t my dad’s fault, but I thought that doubt in myself had led to me making some bad decisions, especially where romantic relationships were concerned. I’d been too busy trying to please, searching for love in the wrong places, just wanting someone to love me back, instead of thinking about what I needed.