I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)(21)

“We did. Or I did. I’m done, Mark Compton. The End.”

She means it this time.





Seven

Mark . . .

“What do you think, son?”

“About?” I ask, jerking my gaze to my father.

“How about coming and watching some of the pitchers throw this weekend with me? Dana says she and Crystal are having a girls’ pampering day on Sunday.”

I arch a brow at Crystal. “Oh?” The more I see her closeness to my mother, the more curious I am about her mother.

“We have a stylist coming in for hair and nails,” she says, her lips curving as she looks at my mother. “It’s going to be fun.”

“I can’t wait,” my mother says, dragging her hand down her hair. “I think it’ll make me feel a little more human.”

“So what do you say, Marky boy?” my father presses. “We on for some baseball?”

“You have practice on Sunday?”

“A pitching camp. I really could use your input.”

Fighting the feeling that I can’t face this part of my past right now, my lips manage a curve and I say, “Sunday it is, then.”

The light in my father’s eyes is my reward. “We can go by that burger joint by the practice field we used to hang out at. Good memories.”

He’s right. They were, and I don’t want to let one bad piece of my history destroy some of the special moments I’ve shared with my father.

“I was thinking,” my mother says, and her solemn tone draws all of our gazes as she sighs and starts again. “I was thinking about Rebecca, and how young she was and how young you were when life got all twisted. Things change so quickly. Life is here and gone, and—”

The jab to my gut plunges deep, and I lower my eyes, fighting the emotions by beginning to count, leaving room for nothing else. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. When my gaze lifts it collides with Crystal’s, and I see the question in her eyes. She wants to know what my mother is talking about . . . and part of me wants that one person whom I can actually tell.

“Everything happens for a reason,” my father tells my mother. “We just don’t know what it is until later. But I’m betting that you’ll inspire a lot of people to fight when this is over.”

Everything happens for a reason. He’d said that to me way back then, too. I was certain that my future had been ripped away from me as a lesson. It made me become stronger for everyone else around me, to ensure no one else got hurt. But what reason is there in Rebecca dying? How can there ever be a reason for that?

I push to my feet. “I’m going to get ice. Anyone else?” All eyes have shifted to me, and they all call bullshit, “you don’t want ice, you want space.” “No?” I ask. “Okay then.” I leave the room wondering how “Okay then” even got into my damn vocabulary.

Walking down the hall and past a large living area, I pause in the center of the massive kitchen, leaning on the black rectangular island counter. My head drops toward my chest and I start counting to keep myself out of my own head, so I can walk back into that bedroom. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Mark.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as Crystal’s voice stirs an odd sensation in my chest that somehow eases the ache in my gut. Desire rockets through me, and I tell myself it’s about f*cking and control. I need it, and she’s my safe zone outside of the club.

“Are you okay?” she asks when I do not speak.

When our gazes meet the jolt is as unwelcome as it is intense. She feels it, too. I see it in the slight widening of her eyes, the way she curls her fingers into her palms on the counter across from me.

“You were furious with me a few minutes ago,” I say. “Why are you standing here now?”

“I’m not one-dimensional. I can be furious and worried at the same time.”

Unable to squash my intrigue over the unknowns of her past, I agree. “No, you aren’t one-dimensional. Nor are you simply a rich girl who wants to prove something to daddy.”

“Thank you.” She crinkles her brow. “I think.”

We fall into silence, a hum of electricity charging between us. “I still go back to you saying ‘The End’ to me a few minutes ago. You meant it this time, too. That doesn’t translate to you standing here.”

“Neither does much of what you do, where I’m concerned.”

“You’re absolutely right. It doesn’t. What does, though, is sticking to ‘The End.’ What doesn’t is how badly I want to drag you into another room and f*ck you right now.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not me you want. It’s someone who’ll sign a contract and be your outlet and bridge to control. You left that bedroom thinking about the impossibility of a reason for Rebecca’s death, beyond your self-blame and guilt. You need that bridge.”

There is banked pain lacing her words, and a hint of the earlier anger I’d seen in her eyes. I could make those things go away by telling her what she’s said isn’t true. I could tell her she’s gotten under my skin. But I don’t even know who the man beneath the surface is right now. I’ve destroyed two women. Crystal doesn’t deserve to be number three.

“Is everything okay?” my father asks from the doorway, repeating Crystal’s earlier words.