Undone: Wild Men, #2

Chapter One

Kaden

Hey, girl. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Are you all right? Can you drop me a line, just one fucking line to tell me if you’re okay? Just…

[unsent text message]

Touch me, she says, her voice husky, looking at me over her shoulder as she pulls down the zipper of her dress.

I will, I reply, leaning back on my sofa, the bottle of vodka half-empty, dangling from my fingers.

Eventually.

Although she’s not Hailey.

And it shouldn’t matter.

The girl is not bad looking. She has something… sweet about her. Something about the bouncy bob of honey-blond hair and the fullness of her curves…

Something of Hailey – and dammit, when will I stop comparing every single woman to her? It’s over between us, has been over for months now, and damn if I’m gonna turn into a monk just because…

Shaking my head, I lift the bottle and take another deep gulp, feeling the heat traveling down my throat, spreading in my chest.

Hey. She’s glaring at me, her dress off, dressed in a black lacy bra and a matching set of panties. Am I boring you?

I blink. Kinda lost track of time there. Time, and place, and girl. I try to get my head back in the game. Look, Stacy…

Macy, she snaps, and grabs her dress from the floor, giving me a full view of her ample rack. Jesus, what am I doing here with you?

What? Hold on a sec. In sudden panic, I shove myself off the sofa and to my feet. The room spins lazily and I rub a hand over my face. Not so fast.

Why? You’re clearly not interested. She waves a hand at me, or at my crotch, maybe – and my very evident lack of interest in her little striptease. Her eyes lift to my face, anger lighting them up, although I couldn’t tell you their color, or even if they’re pretty. Why am I here, Kaden? Who are you trying to get over, huh?

I’m not fucking trying anything. Anger heats up my neck, and I don’t even know why the hell I’m so incensed at the suggestion I might be trying to get over…

Her.

Come here. I tamp down on my rising fury – at myself, rather at this girl – and reach for her, even if my dick isn’t even half-hard. Come on. We’re just having a good time. We’re only just starting.

Not sure about this, she says, and draws away, brows drawing together. This isn’t what I signed up for.

Goddammit.

I shove my hair out of my eyes and groan deep in my throat. Then go. Get the hell out.

Her eyes widen, and her fear annoys me even more – isn’t this what she wanted? What she all but forced me to say? I knew it was a fucking bad idea bringing her here. I never bring girls to my pad.

Won’t be happening again.

Then her eyes narrow, sparking with anger of her own. Screw you, Kaden. The rumors were right about you. You’re a rude asshole.

Yeah, obviously.

Gathering her things, yanking up the zipper of her dress, she throws me one last venomous look and departs, slamming the door behind her.

She has no right to feel used. I’ve never met her before in my life, and if she was looking at me, waiting for a chance to jump my bones, well that’s not on me, is it? I wasn’t stringing her along.

Fuck, it’s a good thing we didn’t get down and dirty before this happened. Last thing I need is another round of tongues wagging about my deviant sex practices – a rumor I owe to a girl I slept with a couple of times before meeting Hailey—

Why in the fucking hell am I thinking of her again?

Jesus. Can’t keep going around with her on my mind day after day, night after night, just because…

No way. It’s been long enough, and it’s not my fucking fault she up and left, without a proper explanation.

Hailey with her bright laughter and sexy curves, who tried to help me reconnect with my brother. Who accepted me was I am.

Or so I thought.

But the hell who cares now, right?

Grabbing my trusted bottle from where I let it drop to the floor as I got up, I glare at what is left in it.

Not nearly enough. What I need is something to knock me out, knock the thoughts out of my head until it’s blessedly empty. I’d hoped sex would be the solution, that it could cure of me this goddamn funk.

But it didn’t work out last night, or the night before. Not that I managed to get it up to even try, and fuck if that didn’t piss me off more.

In fact, nothing works.

Cursing, I throw the bottle back down where it rolls over the carpet, leaving a trail of Vodka and alcohol fumes. I stalk to the window, stare outside at the dark sky. My pad is in the suburbs, the backside facing out into nothingness. Or so it feels. There’s a back yard with a fence and a shed. And a couple trees, their shadows black against the clouds.

I slip the elastic band I often wear around my wrist over my hair, tie it back, and press my hot forehead to the cool glass, drawing in a long breath, holding it. Feeling it in my chest.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why the fuck do I feel like shit?

I can fuck any chick I like. They line up to get into my pants, at the Garage, at the bars at night. Throwing themselves at me. They say I look cute, I look hot, that they want to suck my dick, that they want me to take them against the wall.

And I let them. Take them. Fuck them, sometimes, but all I feel is anger. It won’t let me focus, won’t let me relax.

This can’t go on. She was the one that left for no good reason.

Oh sure, she threw some wild accusations at me about sleeping around, and I told her that was bullshit, but she didn’t stick around after that. Didn’t seem to even hear me.

Yeah, it annoys me how much that fucking hurt. But it’s over now. Forgotten. Not like I feel something about her anymore. Or felt, ever. Right? I can’t stop living just because…

Just because I miss Hailey, goddammit.

I close my eyes and breathe out. Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me? Fuck. No, all right? I don’t. I don’t miss her.

Not at all.

Chapter Two

Hailey

Yesterday I found a photo of us and I couldn’t… Why did you do it, Kaden? I trusted you, you stupid son of…

[unsent text message]

I’m waiting for my bestie, Maggie, at the street corner Starbucks – chosen because it’s near my apartment and I was in no mood to really get out until she threatened me with bodily harm – when my phone buzzes.

Trent has sent me another text message. I scan it quickly, frowning.

Call me? he writes. I tried calling you several times but you didn’t pick up. I need to see you.

I have five missed calls from him.I missed two while in a shower, trying to tame my overlong bob into something resembling an actual hairdo, and the other three while walking here.

I bite my lip, staring at the phone.

Should I call him back?

Text him back?

Nah. I hate that I hesitate, wonder if… If maybe I should. If Trent changed. If we can go back to how we were.

He has been texting me for weeks now – or is it months? Since I returned to Chicago, he hasn’t stopped calling and asking to see me.

I never reply.

Maybe it’s because he cheated on me? With my favorite cousin of all people? How do you forgive something like that? I can’t forget how he hurt me.

Just like I can’t forget another man who cheated on my trust. Oh, he denied it all, but the clues were there. I’d been blind not to see them, yet again. You’d think I’d learned something from my experience with Trent.

But no, I had to go and fall for another guy who thinks with his dick, who didn’t respect me, didn’t love me, and I…

I couldn’t do this again.

Still can’t. Can’t put my heart through the wringer again, and that’s why I ran away as fast and as far as I dared. Back to where I started, where I grew up and almost got married.

What does that say about me? I came back to the start. Didn’t move a step. Not forward, anyway.

Hailey! Maggie hurries through the café, splitting the crowd waiting in line like Moses, minus the beard and staff. So sorry I’m late. I’ll make it up to you. Come on, I’m inviting.

So magnanimous of you. I’m a grouch. Then again, I didn’t want to get out of the apartment today.

Or out of bed, to be honest. Finding clean clothes to wear, washing my hair, locating my favorite pair of boots in the chaos that is my room was a struggle.

All this should be scaring me, all these hints that I’m sinking into a frigging low unlike any I’ve ever experienced, but I’m numb. Cold. I can’t seem to be able to get warm these days. Not even in bed, under my super-eiderdown quilt my mom gave me.

Weird, right?

Earth to Hailey. Maggie is waving a hand in front of me, her face scrunched up in a frown. We’re hailing Hail—

Don’t. I push her hand away. No puns. Please.

But it’s funny! She pouts. Hailing Hailey is—

Maggie.

You’re no fun.

She keeps up the pout as we choose our drinks, wagging her brows and crossing her eyes at me until I crack a smile.

Stop it! They’ll think you’re crazy. I elbow her, struggling to keep a straight face.

Like it’s a secret? She grins, her eyes sparkling. And hey, I made you smile. Score for Mags. Haven’t seen your smile since you came back. For shame, girl.

I ponder her words as we search for a table, an impossible mission until Maggie locates two chairs and we sit with a group of unfamiliar faces.

You don’t mind guys? she chirps, grinning at them manically, and they shake their heads. They’re teenagers, probably half my age, too busy bitching about school than pay much attention to us.

God, I feel old with my twenty-five years of experience. Old and sad.

And there it is again: that long face you’ve been wearing for the past months. Maggie leans over the table, mashing her boobs against the top, and stares me dead in the eye. What’s going on, Hail? I thought you were getting better.

Better? I scoff. I’m fine.

Uh-huh. She leans back, digs her spoon into her unicorn rainbow sugary drink. I’m getting a toothache just looking at it.

Okay, maybe I am more grouchy than usual. And there’s a reason.

It’s Trent, I say, opening a sachet and pouring sugar into my cappuccino because why look after your waistline when you don’t care who sees you? He’s been texting, and calling.

Trent the Douche? Seriously, again?

I told her he texted me a couple of times. He’s very…insistent.

What does he want?

To talk to me.

She shoots me a dubious look. You believe that?

I shrug. No idea what I believe anymore.

I guess everyone deserves to tell his story, Μaggie mutters thoughtfully. Right?

I frown. Do they? If you’re talking about Kaden—

I’m not. I’m not! Okay! She lifts her hands and arches her brows in a show of innocence I’m not buying for a minute. Trent. Tell me about Trent.

There’s nothing to tell, I hedge, still upset, and not sure why.

Maybe because my bestie seems to think I should call Kaden, talk to him.

Which is out of the question.

Nope.

No way. Not going there again. Because…

Because no matter how I tried to protect my heart, it hurts regardless. It frigging aches. It feels as if it’s been bleeding in my chest ever since I left Kansas City.

As if I’m slowly bleeding out, bleeding out dreams.

Chapter Three

Kaden

Look, you left