Finding Hope: Book 6 of the Rollin On Series Page 2
She shakes her head. “No. She’s at the… she’s at the funeral home. She’ll be buried Friday.”
Pain crashes over my body in excruciating waves. Over my chest. Through my stomach. Deep in every bone and muscle in my body. “Where’s the guy? The guy that hit us?”
“He’s in his own room recovering,” the doctor answers softly, almost regretfully. “He’s under police watch until he’s well enough to leave, then he’ll be formally charged.”
I glance toward my sisters-in-law; toward Izzy and Tina, then to the five foot nothing Tink as she leans against her husband. All three have tears in their eyes, white faces, shaking hands. And all the guys hold them, though I see the shaking in their hands, too.
I turn back toward the doctor. “He’s in this hospital?”
Pen hesitating over his paperwork, he stops and looks into my eyes. Pressing his lips together, he shakes his head. “Jack, I can’t–”
I look up at my brothers. “Is he in this hospital?”
Bobby shakes his head and presses his broad fighter’s chest against my sister’s back. He’s not saying no, he’s saying he doesn’t want me to know the answer. He doesn’t trust me with the answer.
I look toward Jim with the long moppy hair, the eternal joker now wearing an uncharacteristically grim face, then to Jon, with the military haircut and no bullshit attitude.
I stop on Aiden. He’s the most likely to tell me the truth. “Aiden?”
Pressing a kiss to his wife’s brow and avoiding my gaze, he nods. “Yeah, Jack, he’s in this hospital.”
Although the pain throbs through my body and sets every limb on fire, although bile rises in my throat and threatens to choke me the way Steph choked on her own blood, I kick my legs out and attempt to sit up in my bed. Using my less broken arm, I throw my blankets away and swing my pain filled legs over the side of my hospital bed.
Jumping forward, Kit grabs my shoulder and pushes me back. “Jack, no. You can’t get up.”
“Take me home, Kit.”
“Jack.” The doctor steps forward with a hand to push me back, but Jon steps between us and has him warily backing away.
“Jack,” the doctor tries again – and keeps his hands to himself. “You can’t go home. Your injuries are too severe. It’s too dangerous. Your spleen could bleed again, your–”
“Write me a script, doc. I’ll take my narcotics home.”
“Mr. Reilly!”
My eyes snap up with fire. “Mr. Reilly was my dad. He died in this hospital, by the way. Get my discharge papers ready. I’m leaving.”
“But–”
“I won’t ask again, asshole! Get the paperwork ready. Trust me, this is best. If you make me stay, your drunk driver will not survive the night.”
He scurries away with a white face and big eyes, but at least he scurries away.
“Jack,” Kit admonishes softly. Her hand comes to my shoulder, but no one pushes her away. “You need to stay here.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to explain myself, but I can’t bring myself to speak to her the way I spoke to the doctor. She doesn’t deserve my anger. “Remember a long time ago when you were in here? When you wanted to go home? We kept nagging at you to keep your ass put, but you wanted home…”
A single fat tear slides along her pale cheek. “I remember.”
“You wanted to go home.” My voice catches on emotion. “Please take me home.”
Aiden clutches to Tina’s hand and opens the door. “I’ll organize nurses or whatever.” His dark eyes come to mine. “I’ll take care of it.”
I nod toward the empty doorway as the door shuts behind them. “He gets it.”
By dinnertime, I’m set up in my own home, though my room’s been magically moved downstairs instead of up. Eating warm broth for dinner and scowling at my matronly nurse, I push my bowl away. “You can go to bed, Jenny Greenteeth.” I actually have no clue what her name is. “I’m going to sleep.”
Turning away and painfully rolling over in my bed, ignoring my ribs and arm and, well, my entire body, I face my three-legged dog, Annie – my giant half Labrador, half black bear – as she pants in my face.
I haven’t seen her in days. I’m not even sure how long, but a few days, at least. She sits on her haunches and rests her chin on the mattress beside my pillow.
Her eyes are unbearably sad.
She’s just a dog, but she knows.
Bringing my hand up slowly, I play with her whiskers and watch her eyes close the way a woman’s might when her lover strokes her ribs.
The way Steph’s have when I slide my hand along her thigh.
Annie’s in mourning. She knows who’s missing from our home tonight. She knows I’m hurt. She’s the best dog in the entire world, and now that Steph’s gone, she’s my only best friend.
My sister insisted on staying with me tonight. All of my sisters did, but they have families and husbands to take care of. They have a life. And hell, they all live next door. We live in our own estate; seven houses all smacked together and protected by a giant gate.
Family only.
Usually the closeness is amazing. I love having everyone within shouting distance. We never have to eat alone, train alone, be alone… Not unless we want to be.
Right now, I want to be.
I sent them away and promised to call if I needed anything.
I won’t call.
I have Jenny, the old bitch.
I have Annie.
And I don’t have Steph anymore.
Tapping the mattress, I signal to my three-legged bear that I need a hug. Pouncing immediately, she jumps onto my bed, burrows into the hollow my body makes, and becomes my little spoon.
We stay like this until moss grows on us, until the world revolves seven times, until my nephews are old enough to grow beards.
Well. That’s how long it feels.
In reality, we stay this way until Friday. I can ignore reality, I can tell everyone to fuck off and leave me alone until Friday, but then I’m thrust back into the truth, and not even my narcotics can numb the pain.
I’ve been an athlete for a long time. I barely drink, just a casual beer with my brothers and friends, but not during fight camp. I don’t take drugs. I don’t smoke. I eat all the right things, and I treat my body like a perfect machine with regular maintenance – plus pizza.
But today, the day we lay my sweet Stephanie to rest, the day I have to get up and shave and get dressed again, the day I’m forced to face my family again; today’s the day I want to take some pills and escape for good.
Today’s the day I do take some pills. I numb myself to the world. I’ve had Steph for so long, I don’t even know who I am without her. I don’t actually know how to function without her.
We never officially lived together, but her underwear is still in my drawers, and her box of tampons is still in my bathroom. My sheets still smell like her, and my dog continues to peek around hallways looking for her.
I just want her back.
I want to scream at someone.
Anyone.
I want to hurt the man that hurt her, but since I can’t, since she’s no longer mine to keep, I choose to escape reality.
My brothers carried my stupid ass home after I stumbled around the funeral home. I got high, I got drunk, I knocked over a tall vase at the cemetery… then I fell on my face.
I’ve seen this show before; the cemetery, the hole in the ground, the timber box that swallows the person you love the most. I’ve been front and center while people read aloud all the best things they know about the person in the box.
Just like with my dad, I was too weak to step up and speak, and instead left that responsibility to someone else. To the women. Today, I simply sat down when I wanted to nap, and stood when I wanted to annoy my sister.
I didn’t say goodbye to Steph properly, I simply… tapped out.
My brothers took me home, put me to bed with disappointed scowl
s painted across their faces, then I took some more pills and escaped into oblivion where I told Steph goodbye in my dreams.
In my dreams, she’s still with me. In my dreams, her hair is still smooth and shiny. Her eyes are still green and sparkly. Her body is still healthy and beautiful.
My dreams are where I want to be, because real life fucking sucks.
– Jack –
Five Months Later
Shaking off tonight’s blonde and ignoring her… voluptuous tits, I scan the glass shelves behind the bar and consider what next ingredient will help me find the numb.
A shot of bourbon; makes me angry.
A shot of tequila; makes me forget.
A shot of vodka; gets me moving…
The bartender stops in front of me with an expectant gaze. “Scotch on ice,” I rumble. Helps me not roll into a ball and die. “And a beer.”
He nods and turns away. “Comin’ up.”
Blonde Tits, whose name I genuinely cannot remember, eagerly rubs herself along my arm and whispers secrets into my ear.
Blowjob. Let’s go home. I want some time alone with you.
I know she’s good at what she does. We’ve done it before; last week… or maybe the week before.
She sucked my dick and helped me forget for 3.2 seconds.
Unfortunately for us both, my come wasn’t even done sliding down her throat before real life came back and kicked me in the ass.
It’s getting worse, not better.
I haven’t fought in almost half a year. Hell, I haven’t trained in my family’s gym in half a year, but people still know who I am. Fuck yeah, they do. I’m Jack the fuckin’ Jackhammer Reilly.
Women know me, and dudes want to be me. Chicks in stable, long-term relationships will fuck around on her man if I look at her right.
And I do.
The chicks with wedding rings are my favorite kind. Feeling that metal slide along my dick when she’s blowing me gives me that extra kick, that extra asshole buzz.
Being an asshole is my new favorite hobby. It helps the same way booze and girls do.
Collecting my fresh drinks without offering to buy the blonde a round – because I’m a cheapskate – I turn away to scan the dancing crowd.
I need to find someone to spend time with in the dark.
I don’t need more than an hour. Hell, I’m not insecure; I don’t need more than ten minutes. It doesn’t take long, and a warm pussy always feels better than my hand. But not even Blonde Tits is gonna do it for me tonight.
Pulling my shoulder down, she trails wet kisses along my jaw and up to my ear. Moving my hand around to her ass, I knead, and drink, and watch other girls dance.
A group of beautiful girls – swaying, dancing, laughing – has my dick twitching. Sipping my drink, savoring the flavor, and squeezing blondie’s ass, I watch one of the four – a brunette – slide her hands along her ribs, and imagine it’s my hands on her ass.
The group of girls – who all definitely have fake IDs, or at the very least, they’re fresh as fuck – dance and sway and almost have me smiling. Two blondes, the dark brunette, and one with curly, mousy brown hair, just like Ste–
Nope.
Squeezing my blonde’s ass again, I remind myself that I’m an asshole and that I can survive without my good girl. I don’t need her curly hair. I don’t need to see her beautiful eyes. I don’t miss her perfect body.
Nope.
I’ve survived this long; I can keep going.
One day at a time.
One shitty night at a time.
One lonely, excruciatingly painful breath at a time.
The world has forced me to survive without her, so now I choose how I live it; I choose to be an asshole.
“Let’s go, Jack.” Blondie’s tongue plays with my ear lobe. Her teeth come out to play and have my eyes rolling.
She brings her hand up to cup my cock, but still, she gets nothing from me.
I can’t get hard for her because I’m too busy watching the dancing girls. One of them makes me hard, but the other reminds me of my late girlfriend and kills it again.
Drunkenly closing one eye to block out the mouse, I use the other to watch the blondes and brunette; thinking about all three at once has me stirring to life.
I’ve never done that before…
I’m all about new experiences these days…
They’re young, but they’re legal. And if they’re not legal, then they’re fuckin’ good with a makeup brush. They get it exactly on point.
No, they’re not close to my twenty-five, but maybe twenty-one. I might be high, I might be drunk, but I’m pretty confident they’re twenty-one…
Maybe.
This is my sister-in-law’s club, and we don’t allow the underage or the riffraff in. It’s a decent bet that if I fuck one – or all – of them, I probably won’t go to jail. Good deal.
Eyes tracking the brunette’s swaying hips, I study her rolling movements, her sensual thighs, her tiny stomach showcased in a tiny top that leaves several inches of her trim midsection bare.
Smiling at the back dimples an inch above the belt of her low worn skirt, I turn back to my blonde and push her away with gentle hands. “Turn around for a sec.”
Her eyes go wide. “Huh?” She actually looks excited, like I’m gonna fuck her against the bar. Ignoring her silent offer, I pull her top up and stop on the ugly tramp stamp where the brunette’s dimples are.
Blondie paid someone to stab a blurry dolphin and flowers into her skin. And if that ain’t bad enough, she went and put ‘Breathe’ in the space above.
Wow.
Turning back to the back-dimples and no tramp stamp, I sit my drink on the bar and watch her dance. Turning slowly, seductively, like she knows I’m here, and she knows she’s dancing just for me, she slides gentle hands along her body, turns, then stops with a daring grin when our eyes meet.
She doesn’t stop rolling her hips, but she stops spinning. Laughing with her girlfriends, but studying me as closely as I study her, her body hums for me and sets me on fire.
The good kind of fire.
Not the my-girlfriend-just-died kind of fire.
Studying me curiously, her dark makeup has her looking a little goth. Sexy, straight, almost black hair falls to her elbows. Sexy, almost black eyes watch me. And a black top and skirt, topped off with a black hair band thingy, all come together to make her beautiful and trendy, and so fucking intriguing, my teeth almost ache.
Almost.
Large pouty lips have mine tingling. Already plump, they dare me to bite and make them swell.
“Jack.” Blondie slides her hand along my chest. “Are you listening to me? Do you wanna get out of–”
“No.” Walking away and letting her hands drop, I step through the parting crowd… Yeah, they fucking part for me. They part, or they get run the fuck down.
Moving toward the side of the club where the girls dance, it occurs to me halfway across the dancefloor that maybe they’re hiding all the way over here for a reason. Maybe they’re not looking for company.
Wanna know how many fucks I have to give?
She’ll tell me no if she doesn’t want it.
Nodding at my buddies as I pass the main stage, I grin as Scotch rips raspy lyrics up his throat and tweaks his guitar with talent. He tosses me a fast nod, but his attention quickly goes back to the main crowd, to the gyrating bodies, to the people who pay his food and electric bills.
Stopping by the small huddle of girls, the one with dark eyes doesn’t back down from my stare. I look her up and down, appreciating the sexy heels that give her a few extra inches and bring her eyes up to my chin.
Slim, but muscular thighs have my mind imagining all sorts of filthy shit as my dick grows in my pants. When her eyes – bright, light blue under all that makeup – meet mine, she traps her bottom lip between her teeth and makes my mind up.
Her friends move around me like they’re used to guys approaching their group. The
y encase me and the goth chick in the middle, though she and I aren’t dancing.
“Hey.” Lifting my chin, I watch her eyes flash across my face.
I know where she’s stopping, the same places all women’s eyes stop; my eyes, light blue like hers, my dimple, singular and on my left cheek, my teeth, straight and pearly white.
My mom might’ve been a bitch, but her side of the family gave me nice teeth and perfect vision.
Bravely nodding back – no blush, no evasion – the girl of contradictions smiles. “Hey.”
“Come with me?”
Extending my hand, offer and demand, she studies me for only a second before she nods and places her hand in mine. “Okay.”
The erection I couldn’t muster for blondie now rages and presses against my zipper. That’s cool, because three minutes from now, I’ll be nestled inside this beautiful woman, and I’ll be numbed for another night.
Leading her toward the upstairs offices – toward Tina’s office – and letting us in with my set of keys, I slam the door behind us and spin fast as a snake.
Diving in tongue first, no time for chatter, no time for pleasantries, I do exactly what I wanted to do – I clamp my teeth over her bottom lip, and when she whimpers and wraps her arms around my neck, I smile and dive in for keeps.
She’s beautiful.
She’s delicious.
And for the next little while, she’s all mine.
Reaching down to grab her ass – perfect round globes, tight skin, lean muscle – I pull her close until my cock presses against her belly and her tongue comes out to be an equal in want.
Her hands explore my chest and shoulders, still big and broad, despite my lack of training. I was always a big guy – thanks, Dad – but training as hard and as often as I have since I was fifteen years old has landed me with a shit ton of extra muscle that even the abuse and misuse I’ve put it through this year can’t ruin.
I haven’t stepped foot into my brothers’ gym in months, and yet, I’m still bigger than any of them – even bigger than Bobby, the oldest.
He used to be the world heavyweight champion, but he retired the year I decided to go pro; we didn’t want to fight each other, neither of us would’ve had the heart to fight the way it needed to be fought, so Bobby stepped down and I stepped up.