Struck (Flawed Love Book 3) Read online

  Copyright 2019 © Struck by Emma Louise

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Struck is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  Editing and Interior Design by Silla Webb at Masque of the Red Pen

  Cover Designed by Mary Ruth at Passion Creations

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For Cornelia

  That opening line though...

  “In the bones of me is a better man than this.”

  -Tyler Knott Gregson

  I recognize the light tinkle of laughter that floats across the garden toward where I'm sitting.

  Lucy.

  I don’t have to turn and look at her to know she’ll have a captivating smile on her face, and her cheeks will be flushed a fucking adorable shade of pink. She’s probably using her hands to swipe away at the tears her laughter will no doubt bring on.

  I don’t have to look at her to know, but I do anyway.

  My eyes find her immediately. She’s standing on the back deck of my brother’s house, just a few feet away from me, her long dark hair blowing gently around her face. She’s still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

  I’ve made so many mistakes with her. We both have. Despite it all, I’ve never been able to forget her.

  One night.

  That’s all we’ve shared. One night where she made me feel more than I’ve ever felt before. One night that scared me stupid and had me running.

  “This was a mistake.”

  The look on her face when I lied to her with those words will forever be burned into my mind.

  In all the years that have passed, in all the ways we’ve lashed out and hurt one another, I’ve never, not once, not wanted her. It didn’t matter when she tried to make me jealous. It didn’t matter when she ignored me or got so mad I thought she’d never speak to me again. It didn’t matter when she thought I was sleeping with anything that moved.

  None of it matters, not when there’s no one else who has ever come close to making me feel what she does.

  She stands there, hands waving as she talks to my sister-in-law, completely unaware of me. Poppy laughs at whatever crazy story she’s telling this time. My nephew, Chase, joining in with them, even if he obviously has no idea what they’re talking about.

  My body burns with the effort it takes to stay in my seat, when all I want to do is pull her into my arms and show her exactly how wrong I was before. It's not that I haven’t tried. Lord knows how I’ve tried, but it’s never been enough.

  “I hate who I am when I want you.”

  The memory of the last time I begged her to listen to me sits sour in my gut. The finality in her words like a knife twisting in an open wound.

  Draining the beer I’ve been holding on to for the last hour, I walk slowly toward where everyone is standing. Taking my time because I need a minute to get the armor in place. My steps falter as I hear the glass doors at the back of the house side open. Anger poisons my veins as I watch him walk out onto the deck.

  The reason I haven’t spoken to Lucy in months. The reason I stay away.

  He makes his way toward her, stopping quickly to shake hands with my brother as he stands at the grill. He kisses Poppy on the cheek and makes Chase squeal with laughter with one quick tickle.

  No matter what shit we pulled with each other over the last year, there’s never been anyone serious for me. Never anyone serious for her. Until this guy. When I thought she was with Hayden, I was filled with jealousy. But seeing her with Scott, I quickly realized that she’s finally found what she’s been looking for.

  And it’s not me.

  Frozen in place, I watch as he slides an arm behind Lucy’s waist, pulling her into his side. Jealousy roars through me when I see the way she smiles at him. Has she ever looked at me like that? Or has it always been scowls and disgust on her face?

  I only look away when I see his face move closer to hers.

  “I’m out,” I announce as the loud smash of my beer bottle hitting the bottom of the trash can fills the air.

  “We haven’t even eaten yet!” Poppy cries.

  “Sorry, lolly-pop. Places to go, people to do.” I smirk at her, but I know she sees through the bullshit. She sees past the mask. She gives me one of her quiet, assessing looks, but she doesn’t say anything straightaway. I’m fucking glad, because I'm not sure I can hold my temper if she starts pushing me about why I'm really leaving. I distract her by stealing Chase from her arms, bringing him close to my chest so I can get a slobbery kiss from him. Making sure I get a bigger laugh from him before I pass him off to my brother.

  I somehow manage to say goodbye to Lucy without throwing her over my shoulder and taking her home with me. I even manage to give her boyfriend a back slap as I say my goodbyes. Seems like I can pretend that I don’t give a fuck with the best of them.

  It’s not until I make it to my truck that I release the breath that’s been choking me. Slamming the gear stick into first, I speed away from the house and the piece of myself I just left behind, wrapped up in another man.

  Instead of pulling into the nearest bar like I'd planned to, I keep driving.

  The more miles between Lucy and me the better. I drive until the need to numb myself wins out.

  Pulling over and parking outside the first bar I see, I quickly make my way inside, where I unknowingly fuck up my life even more than it already was before.

  "It’s okay. You don’t have to love me.”

  The voice is a nothing but a whisper that cuts through the dark of my bedroom. I don’t know if it’s a memory or a figment of my` imagination.

  Maybe it’s a ghost, or maybe I'm just losing my fucking mind.

  All I know is that voice; those words have been haunting me for months now. Every time I try to sleep, it’s there. When I close my eyes, I see the tear-filled eyes. The lips that tremble ever so slightly before they say those fucking words.

  Dark hair that hangs over us like a veil.

 
Soft lips, smooth skin.

  No words, just sounds.

  No words until I say her name. No, not her name.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to love me.”

  Scrubbing my hands over my face, I lay and stare at the dark ceiling for a while until I can’t stand my thoughts any longer. Rolling to my side to look at the clock on my nightstand, I see it’s just after four am. It’s pointless trying to sleep now, so I throw the tangled blankets off my legs and get up. My body screams in protest as I move. I’m fucking sick of waking up like this. Bruised everywhere and pissing blood half the time. I shouldn’t have fought again tonight. I’ve not been giving myself time to heal properly.

  Throwing a coffee pod into the Keurig, I don’t move away until it’s ready. Not bothering to let it cool down, I swallow it down in a few gulps. I stand with my back to the small kitchen island and try to look out the window, but the sun is nowhere near ready to rise yet. The inky night sky means all I can see is my face reflected at me in the glass.

  I barely recognize the man looking back at me. The hair that’s a few months past needing a cut. The dark circles under my eyes that aren’t just from sleepless nights. Running a hand over the scruff lining my jaw, I feel the swollen skin beneath. I press hard on the tender spot and relish the sharp stab of pain the action brings. The longer I look at myself, the more anger begins to seep through me. Anger at who I've become. Anger that I've become the kind of guy who would use one woman to help him get over another.

  It’s okay, you don’t have to love me. Just give me tonight.

  By the time I’m walking into Flex that afternoon, I’m already dragging ass. Instead of going back to bed and trying to get some sleep, I’d hit the gym in my apartment building. I never workout here anymore. In fact, I avoid this place as much as possible. It’s just too fucking hard. Everywhere I look, she’s there. Even when she’s not in the building, her energy is. I just hope like fuck that I don’t see her here today.

  I make it to my office without seeing her and let out the breath I've been subconsciously holding. Unlocking the door, I let myself take in the dusty room. Has it really been that long since I've been here? I don’t even remember the last time, if I’m honest with myself.

  I don’t get the chance to sit before the door opens behind me, my brother stepping into the room. Keir is another person I really didn’t need to see today.

  “Didn’t expect you in today.” No hello. No how’ve you been. I don’t bother looking up at him, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me alone.

  “Didn’t realize I had to check-in with you,” I reply with more bite than I'd like to have used.

  “Don’t be a dick,” he replies, but there’s no heat behind his words. He just sounds tired. Taking a look at him, I see he doesn’t just sound tired. He looks it too. We might be twins, but we don’t look much alike outside of us both having the same dark hair. “I’m not here to fight with you.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  I wish I had a reason for why I've been determined to cut them all out. I don’t. Somewhere along the line it just became easier to stop being around them all. I didn’t have to pretend I was okay if I stayed away.

  “Do you have time to talk?” Do I have the time? Yes. Do I want to talk to him? Fuck no.

  “I just came in to grab some stuff. I’m not staying.” His jaw clenches with frustration, and part of me wishes he would hurry up and call me out on my crap. I’d have lost patience with him a long time ago if the roles were reversed.

  “Make time. Soon.” He doesn’t bother to look my way before he moves toward the door. “We need to talk about this place.”

  “What about it?” Flex is my baby. I came up with the idea to open it. A middle school obsession with wrestling turned into a teenage love of all things MMA. I’d been on the edge of going pro when a torn rotator cuff put me on the side-lines. With fighting no longer an option, I’d taken up training at my old gym. Anything to be involved in the sport. When my brother retired from the NFL, I asked him if he wanted in. It was more reason for him to move back to Savannah than anything else. I didn’t need his help, and I definitely didn’t need him trying to take over.

  He turns to answer me, and I can see he’s had enough. The frustration on his face has morphed into anger.

  “You’re not here,” he snaps. “When you are here, you might as well not be. Somewhere along the way, you stopped giving a shit. About Flex, about your family. About yourself.” I don’t argue with him. He’s right.

  “You’re fighting again.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  Gritting my teeth, I don’t bother to reply. It’s obvious, the bruises speak for themselves. “Flex is ready to expand, to grow into the very thing you wanted it to be, but I'm sick of waiting for you to catch up. Sick of waiting for you to give me a few minutes of your time. Sick of you risking it all for the thrill of an illegal fight.”

  He pauses before saying the last thing I expected to hear from him, “Let me buy you out.”

  “What the—” the words explode from somewhere deep inside me, and before I know it, I'm on my feet, standing nose to nose with my brother. The guy that I thought would have my back, always.

  “This place is mine,” I grit out, “and I'll be dragged out of here swinging before I let you take it from me.”

  “You don’t give a shit, T.” My hands fist in his shirt as I yank him closer to me. Keir is a big guy. Years of playing pro football, followed by running a gym mean he’s in great shape. Usually I'd say it would be hard to pick a winner between us in a fight. But right now, he doesn’t have the same kind of anger fueling him that I do. Anger that’s masking the small warning voice inside my head that’s telling me not to do something I might regret soon.

  “This place is mine.” I repeat through clenched teeth. “Don’t push me on this.” He doesn’t flinch, though. His always calm demeanour still in place, eyes quietly assessing me.

  “If you care this much. Start showing it.” He pushes my hands off his shirt, still sounding completely unaffected. “I’m sick of running this place alone.” He looks at me as if he’s debating with himself over something. “Poppy is pregnant.”

  A long-forgotten warmth hits me. I know they’ve been trying for another baby since my nephew was born eighteen months ago. I’m such a prick. I can’t remember the last time I saw Chase. He probably doesn’t even remember me. The fight drains right out of me, leaving me to sink into the seat behind my desk.

  “Congratulations. I know you’ve wanted this for a while.”

  “She’s three months along.” I don’t know if he means it to, but the words seem like an accusation. Three months. Has it been that long since I've seen them? I've spoken to our parents here and there, but I know this is news Keir would have wanted to tell me face to face.

  The silence hangs heavy around us.

  “You know I came back here for you.” He sighs. “You sold me this idea of us being a team, working together, and I bought it. But us being a team, that doesn’t just mean in here.” He stabs a finger into the desk. “It means we’re here for each other all the time. How would you feel if I'd have cut you out when Pop left me all those years ago?” Keir and Poppy had their fair share of hard work trying to get to where they are now, including a ten-year separation. The first year after she left was brutal. Our parents and I had had to stand on the sidelines while he fought his demons. Demons that included too much booze and too many women. It hits me hard how wrong I've been to shut them all out. Memories of how it felt to watch him struggle, how frustrating I felt that I couldn’t help him, hit me hard.

  “I’m sorry.” The words stick in my throat. Running a hand over my face just to give myself a minute to think of how to explain things to him. When I don’t speak, Keir drops into the seat in front of me.

  “I don’t need an apology. I just want you to let me in, let us all in.”

  “I didn’t know how to deal with it. With seeing her.” I do
n’t have to say her name. Keir knows who I’m talking about. “It was easier to stay away. And then...” I let the words die instead of finishing.

  “Then, what?” There’s only concern in his question, no judgement, and fuck if that doesn’t make me feel even more guilty. I think I prefer dealing with his anger.

  “And then I did some shit I’m not proud of.” I’m not ready to give him more than that right now, and I know he won’t push it. “I couldn’t face you. Not when I couldn’t even face myself most days.”

  “She’s happy. You know that, right?” His words sting, but they don’t pack the same punch they would have just a few months ago. I want that for her. Would I rather her be happy with me? Of course, but I fucked up, and now I have to deal with it.

  “He’s good to her?” I ask, bracing for his answer.

  “Treats her like a queen.” There’s no hesitation in his answer. There isn’t anything I can say to that, so I don’t even try to answer.

  We sit in the heavy silence for a beat. Keir is the one to break it. “You done hiding from us now?” I want to be, so I nod.

  “I’ll do better. I’ll be better,” I promise him and myself. I really fucking hope it’s a promise I can keep.

  “There’s good things happening around you, brother. Wake up and be a part of them. Chase misses you. We all miss you.”

  Spotting an empty parking space right outside the hospital, I park my truck and shut off the engine. Pulling my phone out of the holder, I check Keir’s message again, telling me what room Elliott is in. I’m stalling. I don’t want to be here, not when I know that it’s pretty much guaranteed I’m going to be in the same room as Lucy.

  The last few months I’ve seen her around. We’ve spent time together in the same group, nights out, family parties. Now that I’m back at the gym full time, we have no choice but to be civil to one another. We have avoiding each other down to a fine art, only speaking when absolutely necessary. I’m still not sure how I feel about that, but I'm dealing with it instead of running away from it, and that’s progress in my book.