Fated Love (The Soul Sisters Series Book 3) Page 7
Even throwing myself at him didn’t work. I thought all the other girls were a distraction and it was just sex he needed, but obviously not. I want to feel angry but I can’t, I’m relieved that I finally know the truth about how he really feels about me. With nothing more to say, I turn away from him and head to the guest room. Once there I lock my door, kick off my stupid shoes and climb into bed without bothering to close the curtains or put a night gown on.
As the last hours of sunshine finally change the day into night, all I can hear is my own breathing. I concentrate on the in and out and pray it won’t be long until I fall asleep so tomorrow I can take control of my life and finally move on.
Chapter Eight
*****
Oli
I hardly slept a fucking wink.
Turmoil.
My brain is in total turmoil.
Every time I shut my eyeballs all I could see was Lottie’s smooth, manicured hand homing in on my cock, the thought of it makes me shudder, shudder with aching and want. I want to think it’s because I need to get laid, but I know it’s really excitement, because I’ve discovered something she’s tried to hide. She’s hidden it well so far, but I would never have thought that Princess Lottie had that kind of fire inside her.
I had to make her leave that bathroom before the monster inside me threw her on the floor and fucked the shit out of her. She was drunk and angry and even though I generally like a bit of angry, rage sex, there was no way I could let her do something she would completely hate me for the next morning.
That doesn’t stop me dreaming, hell, fucking fantasizing over it. I can’t stop thinking that she didn’t seem happy that I stopped her, but I reckon my brain is over playing it all, just because I had to get in the shower and sort myself out. If I hadn’t I would have never made it through the frustrations of the day. I’d be lying if I wasn’t intrigued by what could have been, but I’m not a complete twat and her being drunk was only a small part of it. She’d just buried her parents for fucks sake.
Completely fucked up timing and my cock has been punishing me for it all night long.
I didn’t hear a peep out of her all night, she locked herself in her room and even I understand what that meant, it was the universal signal for leave me the fuck alone. Things can’t continue like this, even though I don’t think she’s ready to be on her own yet and there is all the stuff with her parent’s estate and will that will need sorting out.
Ok, plan in place. Forget about the bathroom blip and help her get her shit back on track, become part of her life as friends again and go from there.
Glancing at my bedside clock confirms it’s early, like six in the morning early. I’m wide awake and irritated, so I shoot Sonny a quick text to see if he wants to meet me at the track, a few laps should clear my head and work out some of my aggravation before I come back and attempt what I know will be an awkward conversation.
Me: Track run? 20 mins?
Sonny: Already here, move it slacker.
Of course he’s already there, I’d expect nothing less from the high school gym coach. He practically fucking lives there.
Moving as quietly as I can I grab some clothes and change into them. I shut my bedroom door and pause to see if I can hear any movement from the guest bedroom. No, nothing but I plan to be back before she’s up and about anyway and I reckon she’s going to have the hangover from hell too.
I park my Escalade next to Sonny’s car and do a few more stretches between there and the track side, he’s already running so I fall in step as he passes by me.
“Dare I ask?” He says showing no sign of exertion. I’m not unfit, but shit, he’s not lost any of his athletic edge from when we were at school.
“Probably best not to,” I grumble.
“How much arguing did you two get into?”
“Arguing... none.”
“She seemed angry, correction, she was raging and I was sure she’d come at you once you moved her out of the other bitches air space.”
“Oh, she came at me,” I mutter back.
“What?”
“Nothing forget I said anything,” I’m breathing heavily and having this chat whilst my body is still getting used to the punishing pace Sonny is setting is going to give me a fucking stitch.
“Tell me you fucking didn’t?” Sonny says, applying the brakes and stopping dead, leaving me no choice but to stop and put him straight.
“No I didn’t. I stopped it.”
Sonny has an incredulous look on his face, he knows me well. He understands my voracious appetite for willing females and it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. “I can’t even believe you tried.”
“I didn’t, she did.”
“Oh man, awkward. Please tell me you stopped it at the suggestion phase and not the actual deed?”
“I’m not having this discussion with you. Lottie started it and I stopped it well before it got out of hand, but let’s just say I’m seeing our princess in a whole different light.” I exhale in relief or frustration, or both and it feels good to hear that I did the right thing by closing it down. “What do I do? She’s so all over the place I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”
“Oli, I don’t understand the question. You guys have had a fucked up relationship for years. What are you asking me?”
“Fuck. I don’t know. Look, forget it, let’s get this run done so I can get my head on straight before I head back there and have to talk to her.”
“Hang on,” he tells me, “Head on straight? It shouldn’t be bent, you’re just friends... apparently.”
I take off on another lap and hear his footsteps pound the ground behind me. “You want her. You’ve finally woke up and seen the fucking light.”
Now I stop dead in my tracks, “What?”
“Any jock with half a brain can see she’s been sweet on you for years.”
Sonny is the second member of my friendship group to point this out to me. First Flo and now him, which makes it hard for me to dismiss their theory. “Let’s just say you’re right,” I begin carefully, “And I’ve completely misinterpreted her friendship and been fucking other women, for a while under her nose and watchful eye, how do I go about undoing that ugly shit?
“Fucked if I know, do I have a pussy? No, I’d suggest you man up and ask someone that does. Now are we running or what?”
“No. I need to be somewhere.”
Sonny laughs at me and runs off, whilst I make a bee line for my truck. He’s right, unravelling the mind of a woman takes qualities I do not possess and seeing as I am never going to have tits and a vagina, I’m going to go and ask someone who does.
Flo started this shit, she can help navigate me through it.
I arrive at her house not giving a fuck that I’m still I my running gear and it’s early. When she opens the door she’s in casual clothes and is already working, either that or filing papers is a must do, early morning activity for her.
“What’s the matter? Is Lottie OK?” She looks disturbed by my sudden appearance and lack of appropriate clothing.
“Yeah, maybe. You got five minutes?”
“Sure. I could do with a break from Shakespeare and the amusing interpretations of his works by high school students,” she says leading me to the kitchen where she pours us both a coffee. “How was she last night? We were all worried about her, she was one angry girl when she left the country club.”
“She didn’t act as I expected but then when does Lottie act as any one expects?”
“How so?”
I decide to swerve that question because I am not about to discuss what went down last night, behind Lottie’s back, with her friend. If Lottie wants to share with her crew, then she needs to be the one to do it.
“I’m after some advice. Lottie and I have gotten off track, how do I get us back on the right one?”
“The friendship track?” Flo stops and waits for me to confirm or offer an alternative track, but when I don’t she ploughs ahea
d anyway. “Honestly, she needs to get a life and I mean that nicely. Shit, I’m not saying this right. Her entire life has been about doing stuff for others. She didn’t get a job or try for a career and did the charity thing because her folks expected her to. She did that crazy fucking dating thing for you, because you asked her to. She drops her stuff for any soul sisters crisis that we create and believe me there are plenty. Then she goes back to her place and has achieved nothing for her herself. Yeah, she’s a saint and a great friend but it’s nothing to be really proud of, in fact it’s just dull. Lottie then wakes up the next morning and begins the whole unfulfilling charade again. Life should be about more.”
“I don’t understand Flo, I’m tired and not fucking built to decode female psychology.”
“Where has any of it got her? Nowhere. She did the charity thing for her parents and they’re gone. She does the sisterhood thing for us but school is my priority and Dolly and Neely go home to their priorities so that’s unfulfilling to. Then she agreed to your Machiavellian plans and she doesn’t get you either, but because of that, she also doesn’t get anyone else. So it’s give, give, give and no one ever gives her anything back. Well not in the way she needs or deserves anyway.”
I felt like I’d been slapped.
I was a clever guy and shouldn’t need this shit pointing out to me. How the fuck have we all managed to take her for granted?
Fuck, my dad was right.
I am a complete bastard.
The girl, who has given everything, now has nothing and all she’s ever wanted was love and acceptance. That’s why she works her ass off for others, that’s why she ditched the pretentious bitches in school and hooked into these girls. These girls were real and it’s all Lottie’s been dying to be, accepted and real.
Now more than ever, I am convinced that I don’t even know who the real Lottie is.
“Fuck,” I whisper, showing the despair I feel, across my face.
“I know, doesn’t feel good does it?”
“No. Not one fucking bit.”
“In answer to your question, I can see the problem as clear as day, but not the solution. I have no idea how to reach her and help her get something real for herself. Something that she wants, something that she can say she’s earned and will be respected for. I’m ashamed to call myself her friend for all these years, but not understand how to make her feel valued.”
“I don’t want her going home on her own, but I’m not convinced being treated like a fragile child and forced to stay in my guest room is helping anymore.”
“Probably not. Maybe we should help her get her folks place and estate wrapped up and then just be there for her, help her to see she can be whatever she wants and then help her decide how to get it?”
“Yeah,” I say unconvinced, “I don’t have an alternative plan so I’ll go with it for now.” I was also struggling with how to draw a line under what happened last night. Lottie doesn’t need that as a complication, but one thing’s for sure, I need her to do the things she wants to do whether that involves me or not.
This is some poetic bullshit, that one about setting things free, but I can’t think about that now, because letting her leave my life, even if she doesn’t want to be in it, doesn’t feel right.
As I make to leave Flo’s I hear, “Oli, one thing, whatever happens in the future please remember she was your friend in the beginning and only a friend who genuinely cares would put up with what she has. If how she was drunk-truth-talking last night is anything to go by, I’d suggest giving Claire Michaels a real wide berth.”
“Noted and for the record, the last time I saw her was the last time and Claire was told that too.”
“Remember when you said you couldn’t decode female psychology?”
I nod in response and she continues, “Well, just because you broke it off with her and told Claire that, doesn’t mean she’s done with you.”
“Fuck. Ok, thanks for the warning Flo.”
I get back in my Escalade and drive home, by the time I get there I’ve made the decision that I’m not going to ignore last night but tell her we’ll talk about it when the time is right. If her coming at me was an attempt to get something for herself, the least I can do is acknowledge it and not sweep it under the carpet.
Fuck knows when that will actually be, but in the meantime I can help sort through what her parents have left behind, gain her trust and leave the girls some space to help Lottie discover her purpose, get her happy back.
On opening my front door I hear, “Oh you can have him, he’s all yours. He always has been anyway,” from Lottie.
What the hell. Claire.
At my fucking house again.
“Don’t worry, I intend to. Thanks to you we’re out in the open and we’ve no reason to hide anymore, now run along and get out of my guy’s house.”
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I stride into the lounge area wondering how I’m going to stop myself from beating the fuck out of Claire. Before I can get there Lottie comes in my direction, showered dressed and swinging her purse on her shoulder as a car horn sounds from outside. “Lottie, where are you going?” It’s then that I realize her holdall is packed and sitting by the door, she’s leaving.
“You’ve got a visitor, although I’m really surprised, she seems quite at home here. I guess I was wrong and she really is more than just a convenient fuck.”
“Wait, we need to talk,” I try to get in her way and calm my panic down, but I can only manage one of those tasks. I move out of her way because the conversation we need to have is private and not one to be had in front of Claire. That reminds me, it’s time to put the final nail in that fucking coffin. “Just tell me where you’re going, I need to know you’re going to be OK.”
The ugly expression on her beautiful face tells me I’ve chosen the wrong fucking words, what was I thinking? Of course she’s not going to be OK, she’s just buried her parents. “Shit, Lottie...”
“We’re done,” she sums up all her Groves strength and leans into me, kissing me gently on the cheek. “Thanks for... well anyway. I’ve got to move on, start again, sort things out for myself.”
I turn and watch her as she grabs the holdall and heads out of my front door. It then hits me that she thanked me, or attempted to, because she couldn’t think of anything to actually thank me for. Her impeccable grooming means manners above all else.
What hurt more were the words, we’re done and I’ve got to move on.
Fuck. I feel sick.
And very fucking angry.
I pitch my keys at the sideboard and turn my anger on someone who deserves it, well partially deserves it, because I’m the reason this is all fucked up. “You’d best have a good fucking reason for appearing at my motherfucking house when I made myself clear last time. We’re done,” I say menacingly through gritted teeth. Any other bitch would have wilted in my presence, but not Claire, like the true bitch she is, she squares up to me.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I know you didn’t mean that. We can stop all the games now and be together.”
“Obviously I wasn’t clear enough or you’re hard of hearing, so I’ll repeat. We. Are. Fucking. Through. Now I know you’re not deaf so don’t make the mistake of ignoring what I say again. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Oh I know I’m not deaf because I seem to have heard every sexy thing you’ve ordered me to do since we started this. I know you like me to work for it baby, but making me angry or upset is unnecessary. You want it extra rough, then that’s cool, all you’ve got to do is ask.”
It would appear that Flo was right, just because I’m done doesn’t mean she is. That’s a lesson I could have done with learning a while ago.
“How do I get this communication into that stupid, slutty skull of yours? Begging for it when it’s not actually wanted is a big fucking turn off. You were a filthy fuck when I needed something local and didn’t want to waste gas driving out of town.”
That does it.
I roughly grab her wrists and transfer them into just one of my large hands, putting an end to that stupid slapping shit. I wrap my other hand around her throat and push her up against the wall. “Have you got the message? Are we clear? Stay away from me Claire,” I snarl but she still tries to protest, so I tighten my grip on her throat so she can no longer get any words out. When her hands grab at mine in an effort to stop me strangling her I urge myself to calm down and release her. When I finally release her, she starts gasping for air and backs out towards the still open front door.
“I see we understand each other. Now fuck off.”
Chapter Nine
“Where to Lottie?”
“Hart, Hart & Smythe please,” I manage to say whilst keeping my head down and rummaging in my purse for a tissue.
“Lottie,” Tommy Sevens says gently, “Are you OK? Can I call someone for you or take you somewhere else first?”
“No, but thank you, Neely will be at the office when I get there.”
“OK, sweetheart,” he tells me as he’s pulling away from the curb.
I battle back my tears, it feels like I’m grieving all over again, but this time it’s not about my parents, it’s because of Oli and the life I imagined I could have but am not destined to live. It’s amazing how long you can survive on hope, hell, you can even thrive on it because you have that belief in fate. You put your trust in fate and that it will eventually shine on you and give you what you deserve.
Clearly in my case karma is an evil motherfucker. It would appear that I deserve more crap because taking my parents wasn’t enough, they now have to take away my hope.