Worth It (Forbidden Men, #6)(73)

Oh, hell, no. Was this guy honestly trying to comfort me through my grief? No. Just...no. But the sympathy in his gaze made something in my guts give a hard, vicious twist, and I knew. He really did understand.

Shit, I didn’t want to like this punk. But he was offering me compassion, in a very strange, exasperating way. I actually felt my coldness toward him begin to thaw.

After a brief nod, I muttered, “Okay.”

He blinked, cocked his head to the side and crinkled his brow. Then amusement entered his features. “Well, all right then,” he answered and slapped me hard on the side of the arm. “Glad we had this chat. But don’t expect a hug or anything from me, because I’m not into that shit. ’Kay?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Well...good.”

He began to turn away, until I asked, “Would you really have f*cking hugged me?”

With a sniff, he sent me a scowl. “No.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe...if you’d been a total * about it and started crying or something.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You really thought telling me it sucked and that you got it would make me cry?”

“Hey, f*ck you, man. At least I tried to sympathize.”

I knew he was going to storm off in a pissed-off rage, so I quietly said, “Okay, fine. Thank you for trying.”

Pausing, he sent me a leery squint.

So I added, “And you’re right. It sucks.”

His shoulders deflated a little and he nodded. Sorrow filled his face. “I swear, the happy memories get to you the most. Make you feel like you’re trying to breathe through grinding sawblades or some shit.”

I drew in a sharp breath and nodded, feeling those blades now as Bentley’s innocent little blue eyes and red hair wavered to the forefront of my mind. Then Mercy’s smile as she danced around the kitchen with Hash, Speed and Cobra having a jousting match with empty toilet paper rolls they’d taped together.

Yeah, the happy memories did hurt the most.

“Yeah,” Ten murmured, echoing my thoughts. He nodded, patted me more softly on the arm, and moved out from behind the bar, calling out to all the waitresses and the waiting doorman that it was time to open.

I turned to watch him, and almost jumped out of my skin when I found Felicity right there, on the other side of the counter, frowning as she darted her gaze between me and Ten.

“What’re you doing here?” I demanded, giving an internal wince at how hard and accusing my voice sounded.

Obviously not expecting the question, she yelped and dropped the box of napkins she’d been stuffing.

Wide blue eyes gaped at me. “I...I’m working,” she stuttered before frowning and gritting her teeth as if mad at herself for flinching away from me.

I shook my head. “You’re not on the schedule.”

Her eyebrows crinkled. “Mandy has a sick kid, so I’m filling in her for her.”

“Does Pick know?”

Sputtering, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why? If we can find a replacement, we don’t bother him with little changes here and there.”

Shit, I was stuck working with her for a full night. And she looked really good in that black Forbidden shirt, blue jean skirt and half apron tied snug around her waist.

I drew in a sharp breath as quietly as possible. But, damn. Why did she still have to be so f*cking breathtaking?

“Oh,” was all I mumbled as I began to turn away.

“Don’t worry,” she snipped at my back, her tone turning sharp. “I won’t try to make you talk tonight. I’ve completely lost the desire to say anything to you, anyway.”

I closed my eyes and tried not to break as the sound of her tears in the stairwell of Pick’s apartment building echoed through my ears.

It was best to be distant with her, I repeated to myself. It was best for her if I pushed her away.

“Though I did forget to tell you I’m sorry about your family.” Losing the acidity in her voice, she turned slightly sympathetic, which was even harder to resist. “I just learned yesterday that you didn’t know until you were released.”

I nodded, letting her know I’d heard her and hoping she’d move away. But I didn’t hear her leave.

I didn’t like her knowing that no one had told me my family died. It was exactly the kind of thing that would stir up her bleeding heart. And the last thing she needed was to feel any kind of compassion toward me. If I was going to successfully keep her away, she needed to loathe me.

Except I’m pretty sure I didn’t have the heart to be cruel enough to drive her off for good.

Behind me, City spoke again. “I still leave flowers at Bentley’s grave, in case you ever want to know where she’s buried.”

Aww, Jesus. A sob escaped and I immediately bumped a fisted hand to my mouth. I think my knees maybe even buckled, but maybe not because I managed to keep standing. It only felt as if the world had been knocked out from under me. Dizziness assailed me as I glanced back at the woman I loved.

Tears had filled her lashes, but she wasn’t outright crying.

I lowered my hand enough to rasp, “Okay,” and she nodded, sending me a small smile before turning and moving away.





The day of the cotillion seemed particularly hot and muggy. As I pulled on my mauve dress that mother had called puce, I groaned. This suffocating thing was going to stifle me in the heat even more. So I paused before slipping the straps over my shoulders to draw in one last fresh breath. Since the top part of my back would be exposed before the bottom part tied together corset style, I couldn’t wear a bra.