On Dublin Street(84)

***


To my utter shock, Braden was waiting outside of Club 39 for me. My shift had whipped by in a blur. I couldn’t even remember doing anything, so it took me a moment to come out of the fog and recognize him. He stood leaning against the wrought-iron railing, unshaved, staring down at the ground in grim contemplation, his hands shoved into the pockets of his smart, double-breasted wool coat. He turned as I stepped up onto the sidewalk and I almost flinched at the sight of him. His hair was more unkempt than usual, his eyes dark and bloodshot.


For a moment, I almost forgot that everything we’d had these last few months no longer existed. It was buried under the steel trap door. I crossed my arms over my chest, frowning up at him. “Shouldn’t you be with Ellie?”


Braden’s gaze was probing as he looked down at me. My heart hurt. He looked so young and vulnerable. I didn’t like seeing him like that. “I gave her a little whiskey. She cried herself to sleep. I thought I’d come get you.”


“You should have stayed with her.” I made to walk past him and he grabbed my arm tight, almost painfully, hauling me to a stop.


When I looked up at him, he looked less vulnerable and more pissed off. This was a Braden I recognized, and strangely, felt easier dealing with. “Like you should have stayed this afternoon?”


“I had stuff to do,” I replied blankly.


His eyes narrowed as he pulled my body into his. Like always I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “You had stuff to do?” he asked in furious disbelief. “You had a f*cking friend who needed you. What the hell was that, Jocelyn?”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


He shook his head slowly. “Don’t,” he whispered hoarsely, dipping his head so our noses were almost touching. “Don’t do this. Not now. Whatever shit your spinning in that head of yours, stop. She needs you, babe.” He swallowed hard, his eyes glimmering in the streetlights. “I need you.”


I felt that familiar choking in the bottom of my throat. “I didn’t ask you to need me,” I whispered back.


I saw it. The hurt flickered across his face before he quickly banked it. Abruptly, he let go of me. “Fine. I don’t have time for your multitude of emotional issues. I have a wee sister who may or may not have brain cancer, and she needs me, even if you don’t. But I’ll tell you something, Jocelyn,” he stepped forward, pointing a finger in my face, his own hardened with anger, “If you don’t see her through this, you’ll hate yourself for the rest of your life. You can pretend that you don’t give a shit about me, but you can’t pretend Ellie means f*ck all to you. I’ve seen you. Do you hear me?” He hissed, his hot breath blowing across my face, his words cutting through my soul. “You love her. You can’t sweep that under the rug because it’s easier to pretend she means nothing to you than it is to bear the thought of losing her. She deserves better than that.”


I closed my eyes in pain, hating that he could see so deep inside of me. And he was right. Ellie deserved better than my cowardice. I couldn’t hide from what I felt for her because everyone had seen it and understood it. She had seen it and understood it. How could I desert her when I was the one who’d let our friendship happen? For her, I would have to be brave, even if it took everything I had left. “I’ll be there for her,” I found myself promising. I opened my eyes, hoping he could see my sincerity. “You’re right. I’ll be there for her.”


Braden squeezed his eyes closed, exhaling heavily. When he opened them, there was a tenderness in them again that I told myself I hadn’t missed for the last five minutes. “Jesus. We lost you there for a few hours. What are we going to do with you, Jocelyn butler?” He reached an arm out as if to wrap me close to him, and I dodged it, stepping back.


“You should go home and get some rest. I’ll see to Ellie tonight.”


Braden tensed, his eyes searching again, his jaw clenched. “Jocelyn?”


“Just go home, Braden.” I turned to leave but he grabbed my hand.


“Jocelyn, look at me.”


I tried to tug my hand loose but he wouldn’t let go, and it took everything within me to harden my features as I glanced back to face him. “Let go, Braden.”


“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding like he’d swallowed sandpaper.


“We’ll talk about this later. Now is not the time. This is about Ellie.”


Looking dangerous now, dangerous and determined, Braden glowered at me. “Don’t even think about breaking up with me.”


“Can we talk about this later?”


Instead of answering, Braden yanked me hard against him and crushed his mouth over mine. I could taste the Scotch and desperation on his tongue as his hand held my head against his, the kiss deep, wet and bruising. I couldn’t breathe. I pushed against his chest, making a noise of distress and he let me go. Well his mouth did. His arms still bound me tight.


“Let me go,” I whimpered, my lips swollen and sore.


“No,” he breathed harshly. “I’m not letting you do this to us. I don’t believe for a second I don’t mean anything to you.”