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And god, those muscles…I could see them straining underneath his shirt, as if it was all the fabric could do to contain them.
I shake my head as if to physically clear the memory from my mind. “It doesn't matter, Nate. I'm just not interested in dating right now.”
“You've never been interested,” Nate points out stubbornly.
He just won't let it go.
“Cindy…” he tries again, and I finally snap at him.
“Why don't you worry about your own non-existent love life instead of always meddling in mine?”
Nate is quiet for a long moment, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, already feeling guilty for snapping at him when I know he just means well and is worried about me. “Look, Nate, I know you're just in big brother mode and you want the best for me, but you don't have to try to fill his shoes.”
An ache forms deep inside me at the thought of the father who up and left us when I was only eight years old. Nate was thirteen.
Our mother died of cancer, and our father may as well have died when she did because he turned to the bottle. And then one day he just left us. We were put in the foster system because of him.
We did a people search on him a few years ago and found out that he’s still alive. All this time he was still alive, and he just abandoned us. He never came back to check on us.
It's not like he's really moved on either. To make matters worse, I think he just lives on the street and stays drunk all the time. It's really sad, but I can't find it in me to conjure up any sympathy for the man who made our childhood hell by leaving us. We'd already lost one parent. We needed him, and he turned his back on us.
Yeah, so maybe I've got abandonment issues. Maybe I've got some daddy issues too. Why would I want to get into a relationship with that kind of baggage? Who wants to deal with that?
I'm doing just fine on my own, and Nate can throw stones at me all he wants, but while he does have a very active dating life, the shelf life of the girls he dates is usually less than two weeks.
He might not want to admit it, but he's just as fucked up by our childhood as I am.
I don't get into all that with him though. “Look, I'm just tired. I had a long day at the salon, and I'm glad we went out for drinks, but my head is pounding now, and don't you have to get up early for your big game tomorrow?”
Thankfully, Nate drops it and agrees with me, “Yeah, I do, sis. You get some rest. If you need me, you know I'm always here.”
I can't help the tiny smile that stings my lips. Nate is a good big brother if nothing else. “I know,” I tell him softly. “Hit a home run for me tomorrow, okay?”
“You bet your ass I will,” he laughs. I’m glad Nate is doing something that he loves and is good at. Baseball helps take his mind off everything. He had to grow up too soon to try to take care of me, and I can’t help feeling guilty about that sometimes.
“Goodnight, big bro.”
When we hang up, I finally fall into bed, completely exhausted.
As I drift off to sleep, the last thing I see in my mind's eye are emeralds set beneath dark brows and a strong jawline with a sinfully sensual mouth.
I don’t want to, but I dream of Jesse Hamilton all night.
CHAPTERTHREE
Jesse
I can't believeI'm still sitting outside Cindy Crews’ apartment like a psycho stalker. I've been parked out here all night because what was the point in going home? There was no way I was going to be able to sleep a wink.
Better yet, I just couldn't bring myself to pull away from the curb. I've sat here staring at her window, transfixed, even though her blinds are shut. I've been pining for even a glimpse of her silhouette when she passes in front of the window with a light on.
Of course, the light has been off for hours now as she sleeps. The sun is just starting to rise along the horizon, and I should be feeling tired, but I'm not. It's like I'm high and she's the hit I took.
I've never felt this way before, and fuck it. I'm just going with it. I'm not even trying to fight it. Every atom in my body is screaming at me to claim this girl before she gets away.
I spent all night on my phone doing a thorough search on her. I found out her last name. I found out that she's twenty-one and works at one of the hippest hair salons in the city.
Her brother—the guy I saw her with last night—is an up-and-coming baseball star. I thought the guy looked familiar. I don't follow baseball much, but I've definitely seen him around—at least on TV. There wasn't much else I could find out about her since she doesn't appear to have any social media.
