Page 73 of Gorgeous

Cade is doing well with Anniston and the guys. He doesn’t need me. It’s time I go home.

Pulling my shoulders back, I look at Hayes with new resolve. If I’m leaving, I’m going to go out with a bang.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” Those pouty lips tip just slightly at the corners. “Ooh-rah,” he whispers, mischief dancing in his eyes. I’m not sure what I just agreed to, but I have a feeling my one bad decision tonight will soon have company.

“Seriously?” Spittle flies out of my mouth in a very unladylike way. “Poison Ivy?” Another fit of laughter doubles me over as Hayes continues to give me a play-by-play of how he screwed this girl in a bed of poison ivy, suffering its wrath on his nether regions. We’ve been at Patty’s for well over two hours and I’ve lost count of how many boilermakers I’ve had. Drunk is not the word I would use for the state we are in right now. Shitfaced would be the more accurate term.

“Hell yeah. In the beginning, commander discouraged us from having” —he waggles his eyebrows—“relations with anyone until we sorted out our lives.” He shrugs, taking another swig of beer.

“And you didn’t agree?”

He scoffs. “Hell no. Just because I was homeless doesn’t mean I didn’t have needs.” I wait, hoping he’ll say more. I’m more than curious about their unconventional relationship with Anniston. “I may not have known where my next meal was coming from or what I wanted to do for a living, but I knew my balls still felt blue at the end of the day. And after so many years of using sex as an outlet, I couldn’t give it up. Not even after Ans took us in.”

The greasy fry I shove in my mouth tastes like cardboard, or maybe that’s because my tongue is numb. Regardless, it doesn’t have a chance in hell of absorbing all the alcohol churning around in my stomach. At least it’s kept my mouth from asking too many prying questions, like the one that escapes me now. “And, Cade? Is that why he doesn’t date? Because of Anniston and the rules?”

Like I’ve asked the most ridiculous question on the planet, Hayes belts out a laugh, sliding down in the booth so he can put his feet on my bench. “You could say that,” he starts, taking another swig of his beer. He gives me a serious look. “We all have demons, Breck. We’re all fucked up, but Cade …” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. It almost looks as though he’s in pain. His forehead is creased and his mouth is turned down in a frown. And then he blows out a breath and crushes me with one sentence. “Cade will never be capable of a relationship, darlin.”

Who would have thought I could feel anything with all the whiskey and beer coursing through my veins, but here I am, in a bar slamming shots with a fine piece of man candy, and all I can do isfeel. My heart aches and a feverish sensation spreads through my body like I’m coming down with something. I want to cry. Hard, ugly tears that can only end with Tylenol and Rocky Road ice cream.

“Look at me, darlin.”

I don’t. I can’t believe I’m such an idiot. I should have never come here. I should have listened to Jess. She’s right, Cade doesn’t know me. He will never need me. This past year of working for minimum wage, barely getting by, has all been for nothing. Absolutely, nothing. What a loser I am, chasing a man that doesn’t want to be found.

“Breck.” Before I can answer, Hayes slides into the booth next to me and takes my hand, massaging it with slow, methodic circles. “I want you to understand something.” A tear drips onto our hands and he squeezes tighter. “We’re not the picket fence kind of guys. We’ve watched life drain from the eyes of our enemy by our own bare hands. We’ve killed women and children with one order. We are Marines, Breck. We don’t know how to be anything else. We don’t know how to love. We’re a mess, and I think it’s better if you see this for what it is. I’m not saying Cade doesn’t like you or could love you, eventually. I think he could. But he won’t allow himself. The only reason he sticks around is because he feels like he’s indebted to Anniston. She saved his life. Does that mean he’s healed and ready to settle down and pop out two-point-five kids? No. Guys like us don’t deserve a girl like you or a happy ending. Someone has to pay for what we’ve done. And well …” He trails off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.

Atonement.

They feel like this is what they deserve, but I don’t understand why. Other Marines live happy and healthy lives. Why does this group feel differently? I can understand some of why Cade feels responsible, but Hayes … I realize that I know nothing. What was I thinking coming here? I’m an idiot. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Sue and Jess. It’s time I move on and start thinking about Breck. This is not my home.

Hayes squeezes my hand again before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I let him pull me into his hard body, wrapping my arms around his chest. I’m essentially hugging this man who believes he’s not worth the ground I walk on after sacrificing his life for my freedom.

It’s fucked up.

Would this be Bennett? If he had lived through the explosion, would he have shunned me? Taken to the streets and believed he was serving his penance for killing an eight-year-old who was seconds from blowing up his team’s Humvee? The thought has tears stinging my eyes. “Is that how you feel, too?” I ask, because I have a feeling his speech is not all about Cade. “Do you think you deserve to be punished for the things you’ve done?”

Hayes grunts, making a soft noise. His breath smells of whiskey and beer when he forces out an answer I wasn’t expecting. “Don’t go mistaking me for a good guy, darlin.” He unfolds out of the tiny booth, pulling me out after him. “You’re killing my buzz, Breck. I think it’s only proper you make up for it with a dance.” His pupils are dilated from all the liquor, and by the way he sways his hips in a silly motion, I know those bad decisions have come to fruition.

But fuck it. I have nothing to lose. Hayes said so himself. Cade won’t ever love me.

I’ve been a fool, but not anymore. I’m going home.

I’m so sorry, Ben.

With tears in my eyes, I let Hayes pull me to the middle of the dance floor, where we drink.

And dance.

And drink some more until we feel nothing at all.

The first thing that occurs to me is that my eyelids feel like someone sewed weights into them while I was knocked out. My blinks are painful and heavy when I finally manage to open my eyes long enough to see the light coming in from the window. Clearly, I slept through the night, and by the sounds of the nuisance woodpecker outside, well into mid-morning.

Last night seems like a dream. A bad fucking dream.

I remember the mascara streaked down Breck’s swollen face the most. Fear and pity were the dominant emotions that stared back at me from those reddened eyes. I wanted the pain to go away so badly that even those tears didn’t stop me from letting Anniston inject me with a sedative.

I’m a coward.

I should have endured.

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