Flawed Heart (House Of Obsidian #1), Page 3

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “Anyway,” I say, pulling up at a small apartment building that my GPS just alerted me is hers. “Give me your phone and I’ll put my number in. You can text me if you want a ride.”

  She stares at me a while, then sighs and pulls out her phone. I punch my number in, and then hand it back to her. She looks nervous, and fidgety as I lean over her and push the door open. “Blue Belle?” I say, my face close to hers.

  “Ah, yeah?”

  “It’s just a ride—I won’t bite.”

  She studies my face, then nods, climbs out and closes the door.

  She doesn’t look back.

  ~*~*~*~

  She doesn’t call me to give her a ride to the bonfire, and when I arrive she isn’t there. The strange disappointed sensation in my chest is odd, and something I’m not used to feeling, but I push it aside and sit by the fire with my football buddies and Demi, who is well on her way to being drunk.

  “Saw you with that redhead chick today,” Reese says.

  “Belle?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know her name, dude, just saw you talking to her.”

  “Who were you talking to?” Demi demands, crossing her arms and swaying a little.

  I scowl at Reese, and then turn to her. “I helped a girl who had a broken car. Nothing to pitch a fit about, Dem.”

  “Did you give her a ride home?” she asks, studying my face.

  “Yeah.”

  Her cheeks grow red with jealousy and I choose to ignore it, turning back to Reese. “Nice one, bro.”

  “Sorry,” he says, glaring at Demi. “Didn’t know Queen Bitch would take it to heart.”

  I shrug and watch as all the red Solo cups are passed around. I wave a hand when one is pushed my way. Reese takes mine, grinning big as he holds the two full cups in his hand. He’s smiling like a kid on Christmas, like the very idea that he has two beers makes everything that much better than one.

  “You should have one, dude. Might lighten you up.”

  I flip him the bird. I’m in a sour mood tonight, and I can’t shake it. I’m disappointed Belle isn’t here and I have lost my mojo. I just can’t handle drunken fucking idiots tonight. “I’m going for a walk.”

  Demi mumbles something but I ignore her and walk off into the darkness. These events are usually my thing, but tonight I’m not even close to feeling it. That probably makes me a pussy—I’m okay with that. I walk farther down the beach until I see a lone figure sitting on a rock, staring out at the ocean. As I get closer, I realize it’s Belle.

  She came.

  Something squeezes in my chest as I move closer until I can see her face in the moonlight. She’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a loose black tee that falls down around her ass. She’s got on a pair of black boots and her hair is out, flapping about in the breeze, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She doesn’t even hear me approach.

  “You came.”

  She jerks and whips her head around, then sighs with relief. “You have to stop sneaking up on me.”

  I smile and flop down onto the rock beside her. “You know the purpose of a party is to actually join in?”

  She frowns. “My friend convinced me to come, or more to the point, to drive her home, but I’m not really into it. It’s much nicer down here.”

  I nod in agreement. “You’re right about that.”

  “What about you, captain popular? I wouldn’t imagine you’re the type to walk off down the beach alone?”

  I snort. “My girl is being difficult and my buddy is drunk. It’s not exactly fun.”

  She goes silent.

  I look over to her and she’s staring back out at the ocean.

  “You have a boyfriend, Blue Belle?”

  She looks at me again. “Why do you call me that?”

  I study her face, focusing on her blue eyes. The eyes that I can’t seem to shake from my thoughts. “Because you’ve got the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and your name is Belle. It makes sense, right?”

  She smiles. Fucking beautiful.

  “I guess it does.”

  “Now, back to the question . . . do you have a boyfriend?”

  She scoffs. “Gosh no.”

  “No?”

  “No.” She smiles down at her hands.

  “How come?”

  She crosses her legs, fidgets, then uncrosses them. “I just haven’t met anyone.”

  “A beautiful girl like you?”

  She frowns at me. “Are you trying to charm me, Max? Because last time I checked you had a girlfriend.”

  I throw my hands up, grinning. “I’m just telling the truth, Blue Belle. I didn’t realize you had difficulties accepting compliments.”

  She sighs. “I don’t, it’s just . . . Why are you talking to me?”

  “Because I want to.”

  She pouts. “That’s it?”

  “Does it truly need to be anything more? I might be a jock, and a player and all the things you’re thinking, but I’m not an asshole. I can have real conversations with people, you know?”

  She flushes with embarrassment, as if the idea of offending me upsets her. “I know, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just no one ever really talks to me. I’m so used to being invisible.”

  I reach over, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She shivers, but doesn’t stop me. “You don’t have to be,” I say in a low, raspy voice.

  She shrugs. “Y-y-y-yeah, maybe.”

  I lean back again, but I keep my eyes on her face. “I could use another friend.”

  Her brows go up. “I thought the entire school population were your friends?”

  I stare out at the ocean. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve had a decent conversation with in such a long time. I forget the last one I had. I might be surrounded by people, Blue Belle, but none of them know me.”

  She fully turns to me, her eyes wide and shocked. “I could never imagine how having that many people around could actually make you lonelier. I’d kill for so many people to talk to.”

  “And yet those people don’t really want to talk to you; they just want to be seen with a status symbol.”

  She nods, studying my face.

  “Max?”

  We both flinch and I turn to see Demi storming—well stumbling—across the beach. I stand, looking down at Belle. “I should go.”

  She tears her eyes from Demi and looks up at me. “Okay.”

  It comes out as a whisper. Fuck. I want nothing more than to stay with her, but I know Demi will just pitch a fit, and it’ll only make this amazing conversation shitty.

  I turn and walk towards Demi, but stop after a few steps and look back over my shoulder. “Hey, Blue Belle?”

  She looks up at me.

  “Does this mean we’re friends?”

  She smiles.

  Fuck yeah.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NOW – ANABELLE

  I can’t stop thinking about Max.

  It’s been two weeks since he came past, and in that time I’ve thought of nothing else. I keep repeating his words over and over in my head. The more I think of it, the more I wonder if I should just go and see him. How can I possibly judge if he’s fit to be in Immy’s life if I’ve not even gone to find out for myself? That’s selfish, and I can’t afford to be selfish with her.

  What will she think of me if she grows up not knowing her father because I was too scared to introduce them?

  So I’ve come to a decision. Tonight I’m going to the House Of Obsidian. I’m going to go and check things out behind the scenes. I don’t want to make a big deal of it; I don’t even know if I’ll talk to Max. I just want to see the kind of life he’s living. I need to judge with my own eyes, and so that’s what I’m going to do.

  I am sick to my stomach at the very idea.

  Seeing Max again isn’t something I’m overly sure I can handle, but I’ve made the choice and I’m not backing down. Tina will be over an
y minute to look after Immy and I’m standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, wondering if I need to wipe my make up off, or if I need to apply more. Why should it even matter? He’s not going to see me. I’m just going to check things out.

  Right?

  “There you are!”

  I jump with a squeal and see Pippa standing in the doorway to my bedroom. She’s got the cutest pair of grey cotton shorts on, and her top has a giant, pink kitty on it. Only Pippa could make those kinds of things look amazing. Her blonde hair is thrown over one shoulder and she’s smiling at me, always smiling.

  “Sorry.” She laughs. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I press a hand to my heart. “Sorry, I was off in my own little world.”

  She studies me. “You look gorgeous. Where are you going?”

  “I’m . . .” I hesitate. “Going to see Max.”

  Her eyes get big. “You are?” she breathes. “Why?”

  I tell her how I’ve been feeling, and she listens the entire time, nodding softly every now and then. “I understand,” she says when I stop talking. “And I think you’re doing a really brave thing.”

  I let out a long, draining sigh. “I hope so, Pip, because it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

  She walks in and hugs me. “You’re making the right choice,” she reassures me. “Trust me.”

  “Hey ladies.”

  We pull apart and look to see Tina standing in the doorway. She looks a good deal like me; only her hair is blond instead of strawberry blond like mine. We have the same build, the same curves and the same eyes. Mom always said we should have been twins, because we’re so scarily similar. Even our personalities can tend to be the same. Though Tina can be feistier than me when she wants.

  “Hey Tina.” I smile, walking over and hugging her. “Thanks for doing this.”

  She waves a hand. “Anything to get you out and about.”

  Pippa and I give each other a quick look, and I hope she understands that I haven’t told Tina the truth. She isn’t Max’s biggest fan, and if it were up to her, she’d never want me to see him again. Not that I can blame her; hell, it was because of him I moved away and left everything behind. I shut down, switched off, and it took years for me to start bonding with my family again, even though they’d done nothing wrong.

  “Well,” I say, breaking the silence, “I’m going to get going. Tina, give me a call if Immy needs anything.”

  She waves a hand. “Nonsense, we’ll be fine. Enjoy.”

  I give them a quick wave and then rush into the living area to grab my heels and purse. I double-check myself in the mirror on the way out, decide it’ll do, and then rush out the door. I take a cab, just for safety’s sake. I’ll probably have a drink, purely because I’m so nervous I want to vomit. He won’t see me. He won’t. I’m just going there to see what is going on in his life. That’s all. It’s that simple.

  Yeah, right. Nothing’s that simple.

  I have already ordered a cab, so I jump in when it arrives five minutes later. I fidget in my tight black dress, wondering if it’s too much. What if it’s just a casual club now? It’s been so long since I’ve seen it. Pippa told me that it’s quite a nice place, so I went with my gut and decided to dress as if I was going for a night on the town.

  I pull out my phone and try to glance at my reflection on the screen, but I can’t see anything. I left my strawberry-blond hair down, but I’m starting to wonder if that was a bad idea. I already stand out in a crowd as it is. Max would never miss my hair.

  He loved it.

  Once.

  The cab driver arrives twenty minutes later at a massive club. I stare out at it, confused. This . . . this isn’t what I remember. I glance up at the massive silver sign and it definitely says House Of Obsidian. I have vague memories of the club, and it was always nice but never this flash. Max’s dad struggled to keep the funds up to it, but this club is pristine, buzzing with people, and twice the size.

  I pay the cab driver and get out of the car, moving into the crowd of people lining up at the door. It’ll be better if I’m in with them, because he’s less likely to see me. As I move towards the front of the line, I stare at the massive black deck to the left. It’s filled with people, chatting and laughing. This club is nothing like it was before. It’s so much better. Max has done an incredible job.

  I flash my I.D. to the bouncer and he studies me curiously for a moment. My heart picks up a few beats because I still have Max’s last name, and I wonder if he notices. He shrugs and lets me through after a few seconds. The moment I step inside, I gasp. This is definitely not what I remember. What were once wooden floors, a chunky wooden bar and red booths are now sleek black bars, black and silver polished floors, gorgeous big booths and a massive open dance floor. Someone from behind me shoves me through and I stumble forward.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been to something like this, and I’ve never handled these situations well. I was never the clubbing, partying type. I always preferred to snuggle up watching movies, but I learned to deal with these places, because Max always liked them. I know how to handle myself, but it’s been a while. I feel like a fish out of water.

  I find a space at the bar and squeeze in, glancing around, my heart pounding. I can’t see Max, but then for all I know, he’s changed and I won’t recognize him. I don’t know what I’m looking for—in my head the man I love is tall and built with dark messy hair and brown eyes. I don’t know what he’s like now, but I don’t think I’ll miss him. Max has the kind of face you never forget.

  “What can I get you?” the barmaid asks, her hands moving rapidly as she serves drinks. She doesn’t even stop to look up.

  “Just a vodka and cranberry, thanks.”

  In seconds, she’s whipped it up and is sliding it at me. Holy crap, she’s good. I hand her the money and she runs it through the machine while holding a bottle in her free hand and pouring. Yep, she’s impressive. She moves on before I can even thank her for the drink. I take it and turn, putting the straw into my mouth and sipping as I glance around.

  I have no idea where to start.

  I walk through the crowd, past the booths, and find a spot in the corner of the room to stand. From there I can see the bar and the full dancing space. I study all the people, watching them dancing and grinding, laughing and kissing. My heart flutters and I focus my attention on the bar to avoid the pain seeing such affection brings.

  I never considered that Max might not even be working tonight. Granted, it’s a Saturday night, and most club owners work the busy nights, but he could be sick, or away, or with . . . someone. My heart squeezes and I keep my eyes on the bar, watching everyone work. I’m focusing so hard on them that I don’t see the man and woman standing at the end of the bar. It isn’t until she moves and I catch a glimpse of his face that I turn and stare.

  My heart stops beating.

  I’m a good ten meters away, but even at this distance I know it’s him. The way he holds himself, the domineering way he moves—it’s absolutely Max. A lump forms in my throat as I take him in, and something inside my heart cracks as I study a man I do not know. This isn’t the Max I remember. This man is huge, scary and emotionless. Even while he’s talking, his face is blank. Nothing. There’s nothing.

  Just like when I left.

  Max was always big in build, but this man is huge. His arms are bulging from his tight black tee and his forearms are ripped. Gone is the messy black hair; instead, it’s cropped a lot shorter, meaner even. I can’t see his eyes from here, but I can see the crooked way his nose sits on his face, and the scarring on his cheeks. He looks taller, I swear, and so much bigger. His jeans are ripped and black, and his boots look like they belong on a biker.

  That man is not my husband.

  He’s not.

  Oh God.

  The lump in my throat expands and grows until I feel like air is no longer getting into my lungs. I start panting, but I can’t take my eyes from hi
m. When the woman beside him moves again, I finally tear my eyes away from his face and look to her. She’s blond, pretty, and kind of reminds me of his old girlfriend Demi. She reaches over and tucks herself into his side, running her fingers down his chest.

  Something strange explodes in my chest. It’s rage and jealousy and possessive desire. He’s my husband. How dare she put her hands on him? I instantly shake the thought from my head, shocked that I had it at all. I left him. I have no right to feel this way. Of course he’s seeing other women. What? Did I expect he’d hang around waiting for me? He doesn’t even love me. He fell out of love with me five years ago. He told me so himself.

  He moves away from the bar and a group of people seem to stick to him like flies, following him towards a massive entrance into what I’m guessing is a back room. I put my glass down on a nearby table and follow the crowd, trying to join in so I don’t look suspicious. The group is about fifty people, maybe more, and they’re all moving to a room where a set of stairs slides down to what I’m assuming is the basement.

  Everyone shuffles down, and when I reach the stairs, I go too. People shove and push, but as we near closer to the bottom, I forget it. I forget because the roar of voices and thumping feet down here is out of this world. I’ve never heard a sound like it in my life. As the space comes into view, I gasp. Pippa was right; it’s a massive fighting ring.

  In the middle of the room there’s a huge ring, roped off. There are currently two fighters in there, red gloves on, throwing punches at each other as they dance around the ring. The crowd surrounding them is huge, stomping their feet, screaming, booing and waving money in the air as if it means absolutely nothing to them. Someone pushes me from behind, and I force my feet to move again, blending into the crowd.

  I glance around for Max, but I don’t see him. I turn back to the fight, watching in fascination as the men move, throwing precise punches, and fighting like true champions. I don’t even want to know where Max gets people like this.

  I’m busy watching them, so transfixed, that I don’t see the fight break out beside me. It starts between two men, who yell and scream at each other over a woman. The woman in question is standing with a sheepish look on her face, and my guess is that she’s probably seeing both of them, considering the words they’re throwing between each other consist of “She’s mine” and “Stay the fuck away from her.”