Objective (Bloodlines #2)(32)

“I think the fool who came up with ‘you should always be yourself’ never met you,” I jest and chuckle quietly at my joke.

“Well thanks, I’ll go inside and untie the noose,” he laughs. “You’re a real joy today aren't you?” Bentley quips as he sits down next to me. I smirk and roll my eyes at him.

“And here I was thinking I was always a joy to be around.” At that Bentley roars, a full on deep belly laugh and for the first time in what feels like forever, I laugh too. A real laugh. It feels...good.

“So I take it you got over being mad at me,” he says once he’s recovered.

“Nope, still pissed. At Brock too, actually.”

“That’s a shame. We’re only concerned about you. It’s good, right? To have people who care?” he offers.

“Not always. No,” I answer hesitantly.

“Okay. You still owe me a talk. Out with it,” he says, completely changing the subject on me.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I answer.

“Oh I beg to differ. You moved in. Threw up in the dirt. Refused to let me help you when you clearly needed it. Ran yourself ragged, almost drank yourself dumb and somehow climbed out of whatever hole you were living in. We build this sad little friendship over the course of a year - mostly because I force you to start trusting me to just be near you - and then one comment from me sends you tail-spinning out of control and back into that hole. Talk.” Damn. He really pays more attention to me than I’ve ever given him credit for. I stare at him blankly, wondering how I missed his interest in my life.

“If you’re going to keep talking, I’ll start singing ‘Ninety-nine Bottles’...loudly.” I chirp sarcastically.

“Honestly, I’d rather stick my dick in a blender, Mags, I’ve heard you sing.”

“Well that would solve a few problems, yeah?” I whip back at him.

“You’re trying to distract me. TALK,” he pushes. I stare at the ground for a while in silence. He waits though, making it clear that he’s not leaving until I give him something.

"I see the pain you shoulder, Mags. It's in your eyes. Your actions give it away. I think you're dealing with some seriously bad shit. I can see the emotion in your eyes, regret, or sadness, maybe both. Your guilt is tangible, Mags. It's all there if someone's willing to notice." Bentley's words slice through me like a hot knife. I never thought I was fooling the world but his admission, that he's invested the time to notice me, makes me feel something. It stirs emotion in my chest. Affection, maybe? No, it’s something more. Need. Want. I want to be noticed. I want to be special…again. Maybe it's time I let someone in finally, just a little. Just enough to take the loneliness away until I leave.

“When I manage to forget what happened, when there are no mirrors and no people that remind me, when someone makes me laugh or smile, really smile...in those moments, I have hope. Aster...Aster says that I, um...it’s those moments that make the pain bearable. Those moments happen, but they're fleeting. And then I remember everything and...and I'm filled with so much rage. It's like I want to set the whole world on fire,” I say softly. I have no idea where that all came from but my mouth betrayed my head. He watches me for a moment, his face giving nothing away, and I wonder if he has secrets of his own. He doesn't seem to care that I’m damaged.

“Who’s Aster?” he finally asks.

“My cousin,” I answer.

“Well get out, the loner has family,” he winks. I hate it when he winks.

“Had,” I smirk at his attempt to keep things light.

“Well it sounds like you still have her.”

“I do, in a small way. We talk on the phone a couple times a week but it’s not like before.” I shrug.

“Well what happened?” he pushes.

“I can’t.” I shake my head at him and will him to shut up. This has gone far enough. I hear a faint buzzing sound coming from his pants. “Uh, your balls are vibrating,” I deadpan. His face is a mix of shock and amusement as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he chuckles before looking at the screen.

“Why? Are you seducible?” He flips the screen up and reads the message waiting for him. His eyes cloud over and his face gets serious.

“I have to go,” he clips.

“Okay, well that wasn’t awkward,” I blurt.

“Sorry, Mags. Duty calls.”

“So are you, like Special Ops? What were you, Seals? Rangers?”

“Officially, I'm only allowed to say that I'm a sworn officer participating in certain missions that would make most men want to crawl up and hide inside their own *s.”

“And unofficially?” I cock my head to the side and give him a look.

“Still not allowed to say,” he smirks and takes off around the corner. Moments later I hear his truck speeding down the dirt road towards the main highway. Well that wasn’t terrible. I actually shared feelings with someone other than myself. It almost felt cathartic. I get up and stretch before heading in for the night. I have a busy week of working every. Single. Bloody. Day.





Ezra meandered into the back yard, a beer in one hand, eyeing everyone wearily. His eyes slowed at Cane manning the grill and stopped when they landed on me. A strange look passed across his face but before I could figure out what it was, it’s gone, replaced by a fake smile. “Time to go, Cypress,” Ezra barked out at me sitting at the picnic table.