Page 20 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

I stood up from the stool. “I’m out.”

“Come on, Kannon,” Riggs said, his tone almost pleading. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Dude, chill,” Luke said. “We’re just trying to keep you alive.”

“I’m alive,” I said.

I tossed a twenty on the table for my tab and headed for the door. I wasn’t in the mood to hear more of their preaching and sympathy. I wasn’t some goddamned charity case or a fragile trinket to be handled with padded gloves. I was just Kannon, the guy that all of them had known for years, the same guy I had been since Leah died.

The night air was cold. It felt good against my skin, pulling me back to reality and away from that weird cloud of doom and gloom that always hovered when people talked about Leah.

My chest was tight, my skin prickling with the need to move. The bike was right where I’d left it, gleaming under the streetlight.

I settled into the seat and fired up the engine. It roared to life, the vibrations humming through me like a second heartbeat. Leah’s name echoed in my head as I tore down the road, the wind ripping at my jacket.

I didn’t know where I was going, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the speed, the rush. They were the only things that could drown out the memories for a little while.

But even as I pushed the bike harder, my thoughts betrayed me. Leah’s face faded, replaced by Merritt’s. The stubborn set of her jaw when she told me she wasn’t leaving her dad’s house. The way her curves had filled out over the years, thicker and softer than they’d been when we were teenagers. The way she still called me on my shit like no one else could.

I cursed under my breath, slowing the bike as I neared home. The last thing I needed was to get tangled up in her mess. She had a life somewhere else and it didn’t include me. And I sure as hell didn’t have room for her in mine.

That didn’t stop me from thinking about her when I fell into bed later that night. The house was too quiet after the noise of the bar.

I closed my eyes but all I saw was Merritt. Her lips, her curves, the way her jeans hugged her hips. The way her eyes sparked when she argued with me.

“Damn it,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair.

I got out of bed and dropped to the floor to do a few pushups. Anything to distract myself, to exhaust my body enough that it wouldn’t betray me. But each dip down only seemed to bring her face closer.

When I could no longer endure the torment of memories and what-ifs colliding in my exhausted brain, I went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. I poured myself a glass and downed it.

I put the bottle away and went back to bed, doing all I could to silence my thoughts. I needed sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. I was going to help Merritt get that house fixed up. Not just for her but for Gary.

Just thinking about the necessary work should exhaust me. But it didn’t. Nothing seemed to help my restlessness. She had caused an ache in my balls that demanded release. I slipped my hand under the blanket and closed my eyes. My imagination ran wild with my hand on my cock. I imagined it was her touching me.

My thoughts filled with her scent, the feel of her against me, and her thighs squeezing mine. Heat surged through my body. My breathing grew harsh in the quiet room. I slid my hand up and down my own cock until I brought myself over the edge, gritting my teeth to silence a groan. The release was explosive and sent a wave of drowsiness washing over me.

But even as my body relaxed, my mind churned with thoughts of Merritt. Had she changed? Probably not. She was still stubborn as hell and would probably refuse to admit it if she ever needed me.

When I finally drifted off, it wasn’t Leah I dreamed about like I usually did. It was Merritt. And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

10

MERRITT

The sharp rap of knuckles on the door dragged me out of a deep sleep. My eyes snapped open, and for one disoriented moment, I had no idea where I was. I looked around. The old floral wallpaper, the sagging ceiling—right. Dad’s house. My house now, I supposed.

The knock came again, louder this time, and it caused me to jump like a frightened deer. I tumbled off the shitty air mattress, landing on my hip with a groan.

I wiped the drool that had dribbled out while I slept like the dead. Last night had been one of best nights of sleep I had in over a week. Exhaustion had taken me down into a deep slumber, dead to everyone and everything. The knock came again.

“Coming!” I shouted, my voice hoarse. I rubbed my hip as I pushed myself up, muttering curses under my breath. I tripped over my shoe and nearly fell again. It almost made me laugh. My bedroom looked a lot like it did when I lived here as a teenager.

It was the one room in the house that wasn’t in a terrible state. I had managed to clean it up on my own. Yes, it needed a lot more work, but it was fine for the moment. It was a comfortable place to stay with a large bay window overlooking the backyard and a door to the connected bathroom. It was my room, my safe place through the difficult teen years. Through my grief when I lost my mother. I supposed it was only natural it would be the space I claimed while I stayed in the house.

Knocking rattled the front door like a hurricane wind. The battered old thing couldn’t take much more abuse.

“Dammit, settle down!”