For You (The ‘Burg #1)(16)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I didn’t answer. I just stared at Alec, stared straight into his weird but beautiful gold-brown eyes.

His hands, both of them, came to the sides of my head. His palms, so big, so warm, were at my cheeks. His fingers, so long, so strong, were covering my hair. His face, a face I’d known as a boy and I’d watched grow into a man, was all I could see.

“February, talk to me.”

I did.

But, “Alec,” was all I could get out.

Then I fell forward and did a face plant in his chest. I grabbed onto his blazer and held on.

And for the second time in two days, I cried (essentially) in Alec’s arms.

I heard Alec’s phone ring but he didn’t go for it. With my face plant, his fingers had slid through my hair and both his hands stayed where they were, curling around the back of my head, holding me to his chest.

I knew I should move away, I knew distance was paramount but I couldn’t. I was like a leech, latched onto him but instead of sucking blood, I was sucking strength.

I couldn’t talk about Pete, not even now, not with anyone, especially not with Alec. But I wanted him to know I wasn’t crying for Pete, I was just crying about Pete. No one deserved that, even though he was a dick, not even Pete.

But I couldn’t tell Alec that, or anyone.

My crying stopped but I still held onto his jacket, my face in his chest, now because I was hiding.

Alec heard the tears subside and I felt pressure at his fingertips against my scalp.

“Can you talk to me now?”

I pulled away from his hands, let him go and stepped back.

We were alone in the bathroom.

I drew in a shaky breath and straightened my spine. Then I looked at him.

“I think seeing Doc would be good. Morrie’s right, I don’t sleep great.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you sleep great?”

I felt my head jerk and answered, “Because Tuesday’s bed’s small.”

He shook his head. “You get up at seven o’clock when you don’t need to, you gotta get home after three. You get three, four hours a sleep at night. That isn’t good. Why don’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been workin’ bars all my life, that’s the way it’s always been.”

“No it isn’t.”

My midsection moved back like he punched me in the stomach.

He knew how I used to sleep. He’d slept over lots when we were kids. When we were teenagers all of us slept too late in the morning. It drove Mom wild but that’s the way teenagers were. When he was at Purdue and Morrie would sneak me up there to spend the weekend with him, I’d sleep with him in his tiny bed in his dorm room, hiding from the RAs. We’d sleep in late and his roommate would scope out the bathroom, call the all-clear to Alec and he’d sneak me down when it was empty. Or when he’d moved to that apartment, he had three roommates but he commandeered the top floor, the attic room with the little three-quarter bathroom in the corner. The bed was a double in that room, much better. It had a desk, lots of floor space. I loved that room, I could pretend it was our place, our world and I did. That bed was perfect, just enough space so we weren’t cramped, not enough that we didn’t have to sleep close.

I used to sleep great, he knew that.

I used to sleep the sleep of someone who knew she was loved.

Now, I didn’t.

“Feb, answer me.”

“I don’t know, all right?” I was sounding impatient. “Does it matter?”

“How long’s this been going on?”

Apparently, it mattered to Alec.

“Long enough I’m used to it.”

“It’s not good.”

“It isn’t now. Now I need to close off my mind, for awhile, just for awhile.”

He watched me in a way that it felt like he was examining me. Whatever he saw, I could tell it troubled him at the same time it angered him.

Then he reached inside his blazer and brought out my phone. He handed it to me and I took it and then his hand went right to his back jeans pocket and he pulled out his own. When he flipped it open to look at it, his eyes grew hard at whatever he saw then he hit some buttons and put it to his ear.

I looked at him but he kept his gaze steady on the bathroom floor.

Finally he said, “Leslie? It’s Colt. I need to pull a favor with Doc. He’s gotta make time for Feb Owens. She’s having trouble sleeping.” He looked at me. “Yeah? Four? Good. Feb’ll be there. Thanks.” He flipped his phone shut. “You got an appointment with Doc at four.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not through with you.”

My mouth filled with saliva and I swallowed it down. His face was back to hard, the way it got when I called him Alec and I knew he was displeased.

He didn’t make me wait to find out why.

“You’re not gonna let me in, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but you gotta let someone in. You can’t go on like this, it’ll eat you alive. You’re makin’ your family watch, your friends, and it isn’t right. It isn’t you.”

“Alec –”

“Shut your mouth.”

I shut my mouth mainly because his tone was mean and he was scaring me, I felt the electricity of fear from head to toe. I’d never seen him act this way, not to me.

He’d been angry at me once, really angry, when I broke up with him. But even then he wasn’t like he was now.

“Christ, Feb, talk to Doc, get some f**kin’ help. You can’t deal with this shit, with Angie, with –”

He stopped talking before he said Pete’s name probably because I took an automatic step back. His gaze dropped to my feet and I saw his jaws flex, he was clenching his teeth.

Then he started talking again. “You can’t deal with all this when you aren’t dealing with whatever’s been botherin’ you since way before this shit started.” I opened my mouth to talk but he leaned in and finished. “And no, don’t try to kid me and for f**k’s sake, don’t kid yourself. It isn’t about that ass**le you married and what he did to you. Whatever’s been botherin’ you started way before that and we both know it, especially f**kin’ me.”

I felt winded at his words, the honesty at the same time him still sticking to his f**king lie. He’d never admitted it, he’d never copped to it, he’d acted like it was all me, like he’d done nothing wrong, he made me out to be the bad guy. I never accused him of it but he knew what he did and he never gave the barest hint of guilt or remorse. Now, even after all these years when I should have been over it, way over it, his words hit me on the fly and knocked the breath right out of me.